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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748885">Until It Sleeps</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShhImWriting/pseuds/ShhImWriting'>ShhImWriting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Hatchetfield Anomaly [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid, Nightmare Time - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternatively;I dig too deep into the language of plants, Amputee Emma Perkins, And they were soulmates, Angst and Comfort, Autistic Hannah Foster, Autistic Paul Matthews, Because we love these characters they must suffer, Becky and Tom will have more focus in this one, Did I mention that there would be angst, Do we actually know what the Bastard Box does?, Emma had ADHD, Ethan is Dyslexic and Has ADHD, Expect loads of self-indulgent Paulkins angst and fluff, F/F, F/M, Give these guys a hug, Half-Blind Tim Houston, He's just...so smitten, I give my Grammarly a seizure:the fic series, I made this a baby fic as well, I was half asleep while writing the first one and now I'm three-quarters asleep while writing this, Implied Sexual Content, It gets really intense at points, It gets very convoluted, It's VERY complicated, LOTS OF FLORAL SYMBOLISM, M/M, Multi, Nightmare Time Spoilers, Oh My God, PEIP MAY OR MAY NOT BE TRUSTWORTHY, Paul Matthews is a SIMP, Paul is still disgustingly in love with Emma, Poisoning, Protect Hannah Foster 2020, Protect Tim Houston 2020, So I tried to make these chapters short, Stan Miss Holloway or Die by my blade, They all need hugs, They need it, They were soulmates, TransPokey, Why don't we find out?, i mean...a lot, it didn't work, please, yes - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:27:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>489,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShhImWriting/pseuds/ShhImWriting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months have passed since the world ended.<br/>The few survivors remain in the safe tunnels of the underground PEIP base, not knowing whether or not they'll live to see the next day. Though grief is prominent and the iron fist of PEIPs leaders is uncompromising, the tests of this new world may return those who were thought to be dead to their loved ones.<br/>And in the darkness, hope could be found.</p><p>Part Two of ’On the Outside Looking In’</p><p>READ PART ONE (OTOLI) FIRST!!!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Becky Barnes/Tom Houston, Deb/Alice Woodward (Minor), Lex Foster/Ethan Green, Miss Holloway/Douglas "Duke" Keane (minor), Paul Matthews 23/Emma Perkins Android (Minor), Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Xander Lee/John McNamara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Hatchetfield Anomaly [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Crying Softly For the Way it Was Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>IM BACK GUYS<br/>BACK TO THE WORLD OF BONDS AND DEPRESSION!!!!</p><p>Continuing with the trend from the last fix, I will be naming these chapters in accordance with different songs.<br/>The title for this chapter comes from the song ’Hymn for the Missing’ by Red</p><p>As always, I will try to be good about posting trigger warnings with the beginning of each chapter (if you feel like I need to add one to the beginning of a chapter just let me know)</p><p>I'm so excited to be writing this!!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: November 27th, 2018</p><p>End Days </p><p><br/>
Every single day passed at an agonizingly slow pace now. </p><p>Each second felt like it lasted hours. </p><p>It was depressing to Paul that he couldn’t remember time passing faster. He’d stare down at the watch they’d provided him with to keep him on pace and watch as the hands made their slow pace around the circle of numbers. </p><p>Not that time mattered anymore. </p><p>Nothing mattered anymore. </p><p>The world had snapped apart and what people that had survived were stuffed into the tunnels to be made soldiers in an unforgiving world. </p><p>August seemed like it had occurred centuries before. The day the world had shattered into a million pieces to bend to the will of a family that came from what might as well have been Hell itself.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen the real sky. </p><p>He dragged himself out of his cubicle when the alarm bell rang out, signaling that their workday was done with a heavy sigh. </p><p>Since John and Xander had joined several of the people whose faces occupied the missing and dead wall, Colonel Schaeffer had taken over PEIP, instilling a strict schedule and a means by which every citizen would be put to work. If rules were not complied with, and curfews weren’t met, there would be issues and consequences. </p><p>He’d thought the new routine was bullshit...why would they attempt to move on in life in these tunnels when so many were missing? Why couldn’t they at the very least <em> try </em> to give some of the people who were missing someone peace of mind?</p><p>Out of the 2,984 inhabitants of Hatchetfield as of August 27th, 2018, 1,899 were confirmed dead or under the influence of the Beings of the Black and White (so, basically dead), 489 were living in the tunnels under the care of PEIP, and another 596 were missing...Emma, John, Xander, and Tim included.</p><p>He pushed the painful thoughts of them away as he was stopped by a new PEIP recruit.  </p><p>“Hey Paul,” a tired Bill greeted him, “Headed back to the apartment?”</p><p>Paul nodded tiredly, “Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Well…” Bill began, biting down on his lower lip as if trying not to say anything that might make Paul feel uncomfortable, “Alice finished her latest work...if you ever want to read it…” </p><p>Paul managed a small smile that didn’t go all the way to his eyes, “Sure Bill...I’ll read it at some point.” </p><p>“Really?” Bill smiled, “She just really likes your input...we’re having Spaghetti tonight, compliments of Deb, if you want to join us and read it then?” </p><p>“Um…” Paul didn’t want to socialize, he didn’t feel up to doing anything, “Not tonight, Bill...sorry.” </p><p>“Oh,” Bill worked hard to contain a disappointed smile, “Okay...whatever you’re comfortable with, Paul.”</p><p>He nodded, “I’ll see you around, Bill.”</p><p>“Yeah...see you around,” Bill smiled sadly, before hesitantly turning  “You know…” he started, “If you need anything, we’re always here for you...right?” </p><p>Paul nodded sadly, “I know...I just need...” What did he need? He didn’t even know what he wanted. Instead of delving deep into those thoughts, he settled on the simplest thing he could think of, “...time.”</p><p>Bill gently put a hand on Paul’s shoulder, before removing it at Paul’s flinch, “Of course, I get it. Just...know that we’re here for you.” </p><p>Paul nodded slightly, “Thanks, Bill.”</p><p>With that, he set off in the direction of the residential quarters, another day to scratch into the metaphorical lines on the wall.</p><p>He was back to his old self again. </p><p>Not the happy, excited Paul who’d possessed a passion for the world around him and a means by which he would see each day as an opportunity...even if he still maintained the position of an extremely boring man. </p><p>No.</p><p>He was back to the shell of a man. The background character with no major aspirations, no major source of joy, and no knowledge of whether or not he’d wanted to continue in life. </p><p> </p><p>The happier Paul had died with Emma. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Emma. </em>
</p><p>His heart ached at the thought of her. The thought of John, Xander, and his nephew, who’d been buried in the tunnels when the world was shattered.</p><p>He’d heard her scream, shattering his heart as her fear and pain echoed through his soul, possessing every cell in his body with grief. </p><p>It had been three months since that fateful day. </p><p>Three months exactly. </p><p>Three months since the world ended, and the last of them had seen the sun. </p><p>He’d been at the mouth of the tunnel when it happened, watching and praying that the three people they sent out would return safely to them. They knew the risks, and still, they’d taken the mission, under the chances that it wouldn’t be a success. </p><p>Emma had gone to save Tim, who’d been taken captive by the thing that had never been Henry Hidgens, while John and Xander went to try and neutralize the threat. </p><p>None of them had come back. </p><p>Their vehicle of escape, which was supposed to get them back to the base as quickly as possible, had been destroyed by Hidgens, and they were forced to seek another mode of entry to the base, as the portal Hidgens had created, released the Lords in Black. Hidgens was killed, which was a success, but six beings of terrifying power had been released into the world. </p><p>Thinking quickly, Emma had led John, Xander, and Tim to Hidgens’ home, seeking to lead them back to the PEIP base through Hidgens’ tunnel. </p><p>They hadn’t made it in time. </p><p>The tunnel had collapsed before they’d been able to reach the base. All Paul was able to hear was Emma’s scream of pain as the debris devoured her. </p><p>And then silence. </p><p>He could hear her no more and yet...the world hadn't reset... they must have been wrong about what caused the resets, because there was no indication of anything logical that would insinuate that Emma had lived.</p><p>When the silence came, he'd closed his eyes and waited to wake up on Christmas of 2017, the death of Jane rocking Emmas world and setting their lives in motion again. He wanted the resets to take away the pain...but he remained in the end of the world.</p><p>Why couldn't they go back to the start?</p><p>When he came to the apartment he’d once shared with Emma, he felt a painful tug at his heart.</p><p>She’d promised him that she would come back. He knew that it was a promise he wasn’t sure she could keep, but he wanted her to. He needed her to. </p><p>Still, that was the last time he’d laid eyes on Emma Perkins.</p><p>His soulmate.</p><p>The love of his life.</p><p>He forgot way too often that she was gone. Sometimes he’d wake up with a smile on his face, roll over to wish her good morning, only to be met by cold sheets and a side of the bed that had been vacant for the past few months. Sometimes he’d pass by the lab and feel his heart skip a beat because he thought she was in there somewhere, but the wall containing pictures of the dead and missing was across the hall from there, and a singular image of Emma that he’d left there remained. A reminder that she was likely gone forever.</p><p>It sickened him.</p><p>What cruel universe was this where one could fall in love with the same person lifetime after lifetime, only to be torn apart time after time?</p><p>It was inhumane. </p><p>He’d also left an image of Tim beside hers, a reminder of the nephew he wanted so badly, only to lose to the greed of the beings who sought to take their world for their own. Tim had been so young...and Tom still hadn’t completely recovered from the wound he’d received before the disastrous mission took place. Adding the grief to the physical wounds had left Tom on psychological leave...which was a fancy word for Schaeffer telling him to man up and move on.</p><p>If he was being honest, a <em> real </em>psychological leave was something every survivor needed. </p><p>Memories of her warm smile, that wonderful grin that made his heart melt haunted him day by day. In some ways he knew, he’d never be free of her. In truth, he didn’t want to be. Her memory was a blessing. The fact that he could remember the sound of her voice, the scent of her hair, the feel of her in his arms...everything made each agonizing day a little brighter...until he was reminded that she wasn’t there. </p><p>Grief was a funny thing for him.</p><p> He refused to hold a funeral for them, mainly because a part of his soul illogically insisted that Emma wasn’t dead. That maybe she, Tim, and their friends had survived the collapse and they were out there somewhere...fighting to live another day. But the logic screamed at him that he was holding onto threads of hope that would only make his predicament all the more miserable.</p><p>They’d lost. </p><p><em>He’d</em> lost. </p><p>He’d lost the one person who made him feel completely safe. The one face he looked forward to waking up next to every single day. The person who completed his soul. The person who made him want to work towards being a person worthy of living alongside her.</p><p>Emma Perkins. </p><p>After losing and finding her several times over, he figured it was normal to refuse acceptance of the fact that she was gone. After all, they’d both died several times to get back home to one another...so why couldn’t this time be the same? </p><p>He dug his key out of his pocket with a defeated sigh, unsure of what he should do, other than prepare for the mundanity and blandness of the next day. Food no longer had any taste. The world lacked color. Nothing was new and exciting for him. </p><p>All there was, was a void. The void, and the grief. </p><p>“Hey Paul,” a small voice interrupted his thoughts. Rather than filling him with a dread of interaction, however, a small smile crossed his face. </p><p>“Hi, Hannah,” he greeted her warmly. </p><p>She was sitting outside the apartment, wearing the grey clothes that had been distributed to all the youth living on base. In some ways, it was a good way for people to recognize the Hatchetfield refugees, but it lacked the color and life that had made Hannah, well...Hannah. </p><p>Since the collapse in the caverns three months prior, Paul had grown close to Ethan and his cousins. Although they admitted it was odd that they had a cousin who was much older than them, they still got along well enough, and he enjoyed their company more than he did most adults, these days.</p><p>He sat down beside her, leaning against the wall with a sigh. </p><p>“How was work?” she asked, her voice calm as she took in the look on his face, “Good day or bad day?” </p><p>He sighed and shook his head with a shrug, unable to find a correct answer. </p><p>She quirked an eyebrow at him as if she was reading his reactions, “In between?” </p><p>He nodded, “What about you? Was today a good day or a bad day?”</p><p>She chuckled slightly before shrugging, “In between.” </p><p>“Hmm,” he muttered, “Seems like everyone’s been having those kinds of days, right?” </p><p>She nodded. </p><p>For a while there, they just sat in silence. Since PEIP had begun to try and pick themselves up since the fall of the world above, everything had been scheduled rigidly. Rations were delivered first thing in the morning. Families were assigned apartments or were placed in a large warehouse where they had been provided with small curtained-off excuses for rooms. Everyone was given a job, and had to work at it until alarms rang for either break or for quitting time...then the process was repeated the next day. He’d been allowed to keep the apartment that he and Emma had once shared, and had even shared it with Bill and Alice until they’d been designated an apartment, but he felt guilty. Few people had to be placed in the warehouse, due to how few survivors there had been and the availability of apartments that PEIP had, but he still figured someone could use the apartment better than he was using it now. </p><p>Still, Schaeffer ruled PEIP with an iron, uncompromising grip...everything that was assigned was set in stone, regardless of what might have been morally sound.</p><p>It was funny. He used to <em> need a </em>routine to be normal...and yet, now he was hating every second of each passing day. </p><p>Hannah hummed as if she was deep in thought, “Missing her.” </p><p>She turned to look at him, her voice remaining soft and calm as she took in his facial expressions, “Emma…” she clarified. </p><p>He inhaled and exhaled sharply, “Yep...you could say that Han…” </p><p>Hannah, despite his knowledge of her being the most powerful psychic in the world, always astounded him with the way she could read him. He’d always been closed off for the most part...never really wanting to talk about the feelings he couldn’t necessarily process. The only people who’d ever been there to help him process his emotions and read when things were rough, were his mother and Emma...both of whom were gone.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Hannah muttered, holding out a hand and placing it gently on his arm, “Normal.”</p><p>He nodded, “Yep, I know.” </p><p>He hated how normal it was to feel the weight of the loss. Of the grief. It was paralyzing in some way...making him feel like he was chained to a twenty-ton ball that he was dragging around with every step she took. In some ways, he wondered if it was penance for what he’d done. He’d been the one to send Emma, John, and Xander to their deaths by telling them where Hidgens and Tim were, after all.</p><p>“So,” he questioned, managing a small smile and changing his tone of voice for  Hannah’s sake, “Hear anything interesting today?”  </p><p>Hannah nodded and grinned slightly, she leaned in, as if she was telling him one of the deepest darkest secrets she’d ever heard, “Four hundred and ninety…” she whispered.</p><p>“What?” he whispered, smiling slightly at her excitement. </p><p>“New survivor,” she smiled, “Birthday...new baby.” </p><p>His smile grew as he understood what she was saying. A new person had come into the world. Part of him was angry at the world, for being in such a shitty state. No child deserved to be born in a world like this...No child deserved to have this be their normal. But still, new life meant new hope. Something to be happy for. He tried to stifle more thoughts of Emma and a life he wanted with her as he turned to Hannah with more questions.</p><p>“Healthy?” he asked her, hoping for the best, “Mother and child are good?” </p><p>Hannah smiled and nodded, “Both healthy.” </p><p>He sighed in relief, that was good news. He didn’t want to get good news, only to have it ruined by life. </p><p>“What’s the name?” he asked her. </p><p>“Emily,” she whispered with a smile, “Emily Jocelyn Flynn”</p><p>He nodded, “A good name.”</p><p>He felt bad for the new baby. While anyone was lucky to be alive in these times, she’d been born into a cold and unforgiving world. A world where life and light were stifled out if it was met by the wrong force. It hurt to know that this was the life she would know.</p><p>Hannah looked up at him, a puzzled look on her face, “Have you been listening?” </p><p>“Hmm? What do you mean?” He asked her, “I’ve been listening the whole time…”</p><p>“No,” she cut him off, her eyes filled with intent as she looked at him, “<em> Listening </em>.”</p><p>Oh. </p><p>He shook his head, “No...it’s too much for me.” </p><p>“Oh,” she nodded in understanding, “Okay.” </p><p>Ever since the collapse all those months before, he’d refrained from using his abilities. With the addition of all the new people into the tunnels, everything was too loud. It was all too much for him to handle. He didn’t want to intrude upon the personal boundaries of their lives, nor did he have any interest in messing with his abilities from the Black and White. The last time he’d done so, he’d sent some of the most important people in his life to their deaths, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.</p><p>Listening to the thoughts of others was just too...intrusive and loud for him to handle, so he drowned it out as his mother had taught him.</p><p>He wondered if his mother was able to hear things like he was. After all, she was the one who instructed him on how to focus on what was going on in the real world as opposed to everything he could hear.</p><p>To be honest, there were a lot of questions he wished he could ask his mother.</p><p>How to move on despite the grief, for example.</p><p>He never wanted to move on from the reminders of Emma. </p><p>Emma had been the best part of his life. The thing that made every single day worthwhile.</p><p>It was accepting the fact that she was gone that made everything painful.</p><p>Hannah looked up at him again, “Okay?”</p><p>He sighed, meeting her dark eyes that could see so much. She was the most powerful person he knew, besides Emma. Hannah possessed <em> literal </em> power and wielded it with the wisdom that wizards and old clergymen in fantasy novels only possessed. And she was only eleven! She could handle the noise much better than he could and knew much more than he ever would. </p><p>He was okay with that, honestly.</p><p>He was making the conscious decision to not indulge what power he did possess for the sake of others, as well as attempting to pass as normal. It was his choice, and he made peace with it. There were more important things he had to make peace with when it came to his life.</p><p>Still...was he okay?</p><p>He didn't know. </p><p>He moved on in daily life, yes. He was still breathing. All the scars and bruises that he acquired during the downfall of the world had healed. Physically, he was healthy. </p><p>But the pain was still there.</p><p>It was in every empty moment when he would turn over to say something to Emma or text her, and be met by the cold reminder that the woman he loved was no more. It was in every time he passed by the casualties wall and saw her picture alongside Tim’s. It was in every dream of Emma suffering that he received since she'd been gone.</p><p>Reluctantly, he sighed and looked at Hannah, “Nope...I don't think I am, Hannah.”</p><p>“That's okay, ” she nodded, a look of pain in her eyes, “I miss them too.”</p><p>“Hey, Banana!”</p><p>A bright and cheerful voice snapped them out of their melancholy reverie as they looked up to see Lex and Ethan, dressed in their black work uniforms, freshly returned from another long day of work down in the mechanics bay. Paul could tell from the sight of them, that they were exhausted- as most people were these days- but they tried to keep up a cheerful mask for the sake of Hannah. If Paul was honest, he was sure Hannah could see through it, but the efforts on Lex and Ethan’s part were valiant all the same.</p><p>“Hey, Paul,” Ethan greeted with a tired smile, eerily similar to the one Bill had used earlier, “How was your day?” </p><p>“Same as always,” Paul shrugged, “How’s the mechanics bay?”</p><p>“Rivalling a 1910’s sweatshop,” Lex snorted as Hannah stood up to hug her, “But it could be worse.”</p><p>Paul nodded. After everything had collapsed, Schaeffer had mandated that all people ages seventeen and up were required to work for some facet of PEIP, being treated like soldiers in a makeshift survival complex. Because of that, Alice, Deb, Lex, Ethan, and so many others were forced into different aspects of PEIP’s inner workings. In return, they were given rations, uniforms, and the ability to stay in their assigned quarters for the duration of their stay with PEIP. He didn’t think it was very fair for this to be the means by which children had to function...but it wasn’t necessarily a fair world they were living in. </p><p>Paul stood, smiling at the trio as Lex worked at her keys to get the door open, “I’m glad you guys are doing well,” he said calmly...which wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was happy that they were making do with the hand that life had dealt them. At the very least, they were together and happy….which was a luxury few were privy to. </p><p>So many people had lost their family members to the fanaticism of the Beings of the Black and White...or the Lords in Black, as they preferred to be called now. Some were killed by the zealots, while others joined in their ranks. Either way, they were as good as dead. It was rare to come across a family that hadn’t lost at least <em> one </em>family member.</p><p> Bill and Alice were fortunate to have each other, and Deb, when everything was considered (they hadn’t heard any news of Alice’s mother). Ted and his nerdy little brother had both survived, which was the only family Paul was aware that he had. Charlotte’s husband, Sam, had been lost to a wave of Wiggly’s forces, having joineD in their ranks...Charlotte was lucky enough to have survived as she did. And then there were other people in Paul’s life, that shared in his grief...Tom for example. </p><p>Tom had recovered partially from the wound he’d received when Hidgens had thrown him into a shard of wood, but that good news was quickly negated when the tunnels collapsed, and Tim and Emma were lost with it. </p><p>Paul could remember overhearing the final conversation Emma had with Tom when she’d volunteered to go out and retrieve her nephew because Tom was too physically weak to do so on his own. Paul had heard every ounce of desperation in Tom’s voice as he begged Emma not to go, to let him save his own son and not throw herself in harm's way. In some ways, Paul guessed, Tom wanted to fix things, as was his nature. Tim was his son, so his kidnapping was Tom’s issue to fix...and Emma was another member of the family that Tom wasn’t willing to sacrifice in the game they’d all been caught up in. He’d shared in the relief that they’d gotten Tim out of Hidgens’ clutches...but the grief and rage that followed afterward…</p><p>It was a rage that kept Tom isolated from most people. Even Becky. </p><p> Paul knew it was warranted. Tom blamed himself and the rest of the world for the loss of Tim. In some ways, Paul shared in that rage. He blamed himself for letting Emma leave to go get him. Still, it was out of his control and Paul understood that to an extent. Tom, however, did not. </p><p>It was because of that, that Paul hadn’t seen much of Tom in the past few months. </p><p>Part of him didn’t care...but the part of him that still desired to protect what was left of their little family screamed in outrage at his indifference. </p><p>The little part of his brain that sounded painfully like Emma would have said that grief was a bitch. And he would have agreed. </p><p>“Hey, man,” Ethan murmured, “If you wanna come over for dinner at some point you can...I know it’s just shitty rations, but…”</p><p>“No…” Paul muttered as politely as he could, “No thanks...it sounds cool...but I’ve-uh...I just…” </p><p>He couldn’t think of any excuse. Way back when, he was able to come up with a simple answer of ‘no, I don’t want to’ like it was his second language. But turning down the kids who were also his cousins and neighbors was different from turning down Bill. </p><p>If he was disappointed, Ethan didn’t show it. He merely shrugged with a small smile, “Hey, it's okay, man, do what you need to do.”</p><p>Paul nodded gratefully, before digging his key out of his pocket again and moving back to his door, “I’ll see you guys later, then.” </p><p>Lex smiled slightly, “Okay...see ya around, Paul.” </p><p>With that, the trio of kids slipped into their apartment, leaving Paul fiddling with the lock endlessly, struggling to get the key to turn in place. </p><p>After a moment of muffled curses and annoyance, he finally managed to get the door open, and stumbled like a zombie into the dark room.</p><p>With a sigh, he dropped what belongings he had onto the small kitchen table he’d once shared with Emma and stumbled to the bedroom, not wanting to do anything more than go to sleep. After another long and agonizing day, where every second seemed to last forever, he wanted to fall asleep and forget about the grief for a while. Perhaps some rest would relieve him of the weight that was crushing his heart, leaving him trudging about his daily life like a bricklayer. </p><p>He felt old. He felt like his body was slowly decaying into nothingness as he moved on in life. He rarely ate, and whatever sleep he could get was scarcely good before the thoughts of Emma and what had happened consumed him. Oftentimes, he’d be up in the middle of the night, expelling what little was in his stomach from the memories. The jarring memories that made almost every waking moment feel agonizing. </p><p>For those first few weeks, he’d eaten nothing, and slept on the floor, not wanting to disturb the bed he and Emma had shared in that month they’d had one another for. It had taken some serious intervention on the part of Bill and Becky, after he passed out in the middle of the day, to get him eating somewhat normally, and at the very least taking care of himself to a certain extent. It was hard, he knew, but it had to be done.</p><p> He didn’t quite know what he was moving forward for. </p><p>Maybe it was his fondness for Hannah, Lex, and Ethan, who were in need of some adult-like guidance in the absence of Tom. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to leave them alone in a world that had claimed everyone else he’d cared about. Maybe because he didn’t want Bill to lose his best friend, or Alice to lose her godfather. Maybe it was because Schaeffer severely punished those who tried to end it all...in her own twisted, dictator-like way. </p><p>Maybe it was because that small part of him still hoped Emma was still alive. </p><p>It was a painful thought to know that they’d had each other back for only less than a month. If you took the time between when he woke up from his attempted infection, to the day when the caverns collapsed and destroyed everything he cared about, one would have  found that they’d actually only really had one another for almost two weeks. Not even, actually...it was eleven days. </p><p>Eleven days after he’d woken up without the infection. </p><p>Eleven days of the two of  them being together. </p><p>Eleven days of them being happy. </p><p>Eleven days before it all fell apart.</p><p>With a tired sigh, he collapsed onto his side of the bed, trying very hard not to disturb the area where she once slept. Glancing over the stiff, unused pillows sadly. In some ways, they still smelled like her, a reminder that Emma Perkins had once shared the bed with him. Her clothes were still in the right drawers of the small dresser they shared, which he hadn’t had the heart to throw out or donate. Her toothbrush and face wash was still in the same messy position she’d always left it on the counter. </p><p>He figured it was odd...of course, to be preserving what physical memory he had of her. But it was all he had. Some nights, he’d fall asleep with the resolution to clean the apartment out, in doing so get rid of the source of his prolonged grief, only to wake up knowing he couldn’t do it. </p><p>As he curled into the softness of the blanket, not even bothering to get under the blankets and sheets, he felt himself sinking into a sleep, knowing it wouldn’t be blissful or peaceful. Resigning himself to a punishment he felt he was deserving of. </p><p>As he was claimed by sleep, a few tears slipped past his eyes soaking onto his pillow. </p><p>And he waited for the nightmares to come.  </p><p>—-</p><p>The sound of a large crash snapped her out of her daze, making her muscles tense and fear for the worst. Just as she was reaching for the gun she kept beneath her pallet, she recognized the curses and sounds of her companions trying to dig their way out of their desolate location and groaned, falling back on her pallet to earn a few more moments of precious, albeit uncomfortable, sleep, trying to ignore the raging pain that ran through her residual limb.</p><p>Three months and she’d not been able to move without the assistance of a wheelchair. Three months of her staring at the ceiling and trying to keep her now half-blind nephew entertained. Three months of being alone with her thoughts. Three months of pain. Three months of wondering how long it was gonna be before they either escaped or died off. Three months of stifling tears for a life she’d wanted so badly, but was now being kept from her by several yards of fallen rock.</p><p>Three months of missing Paul. </p><p> </p><p>Despite all of this, Emma Perkins was still very much alive. </p><p> </p><p>They’d told her the tunnel collapsed on her, engulfing her lower half in rubble and metal. </p><p>They told her that Tim had been the one to start digging her out. </p><p>They told her that John and Xander had tag-teamed it to remove her decimated leg.</p><p> They told her the leg had to come off. </p><p> They told her they were trapped in Hidgens’ basement.</p><p>They told her that the world above was on fire. </p><p> They told her she’d been unconscious for a month, the infected tissue in her residual limb taking its toll. </p><p>They told her they’d been waiting for her to die and were shocked that she hadn’t. </p><p>They told her the chances of them going through the tunnel again were extremely slim. </p><p>They told her they didn’t know if Paul was still alive. </p><p>Emma couldn’t remember much from the moments before the cavern had come down upon her. All she could remember was grabbing Tim and screaming at him to get back before a wave of ruin had engulfed her, allowing blackness to detain her vision and make her feel nothing but pain. </p><p>She couldn’t remember if she’d screamed. If she had, she hadn’t heard it. </p><p>Only a small section of the tunnel had collapsed, almost as if the world, in its little way of saying “<em> fuck you” </em> had placed a wall that was presumably a few yards thick. They had the mouth of the tunnel, of course, but they would only get a few yards in before the cutoff. </p><p>When she’d opened her eyes a few months before, she’d been met by a worried but relieved-looking Xander, who was calling her name, asking her if she could hear him. She could, but she was extremely confused.  </p><p>The next person she’d seen was Tim, who’d thrown himself into her, sobbing loudly. Through his tears, he’d explained how everything had gone wrong. How the tunnel had collapsed, trapping them in there, pinning her underneath rock and rubble that they were certain would have killed her. </p><p>She didn’t know what was happening, but she could tell from the pain in one of her legs that something was wrong. </p><p>She’d looked down and seen that she no longer <em> had </em>a left leg.  </p><p>Then she’d screamed and had to be sedated by Xander. </p><p>When she opened her eyes again, she was still in the remains of Hidgens’ basement, trapped with Xander, John, and Tim...and what was left of a Professor she’d once loved. Between the four of them, they had seven legs, seven working eyes,twenty-seven scars (not including the ones received before this disaster), one doctorate, three high school diplomas, and one major issue; they were trapped in a basement.</p><p>It could have been worse, she knew. After all, it was <em> Hidgens’ </em>basement, which was already stocked up with years worth of food and medical supplies (including instructions on how to properly remove various kinds of limbs, which was something that had come in handy when John and Xander had to take it upon themselves to remove her leg and save her life). </p><p>The emotional wounds were far worse than the physical ones. </p><p>They only had one working clock, which was John’s watch...and the only function that remained working was the date. They only had the fact that today was August twenty-seventh...three months exactly since all hell broke loose and they’d been sealed away from the people they loved. </p><p>This was a reminder that time no longer meant anything to them. All that mattered was survival and waiting. Since John and Xander were the only mobile ones, they’d done their best to recover fast from what injuries they’d sustained and try to dig them a way out. Tim had even tried to help, but John had assigned him with making sure Emma didn’t hurt herself even more than she already was. </p><p>So, she spent her time doing what she could from her pallet, attempting to sit up, get more mobile, moving into a dilapidated wheelchair they’d found, organizing rations, calculating how much time they would have before John and Xander would presumably make their way through what damage had been done (which was months away at best), and thinking about Paul. </p><p>Mostly about Paul. </p><p>Her thoughts did wander to Tom...poor Tom, who was living without his son...under the assumption that he was still alive.  Or maybe she thought about Lex, Ethan, and Hannah, who were trying their best to keep themselves alive. Or sometimes about their friends from before the onslaught of terror had claimed them...wondering whether or not they were alive...but her thoughts always went back to Paul. </p><p>She’d promised him she was going to get back to him. </p><p>She intended to keep that promise. </p><p>She didn’t even know if he was still alive, or if anyone else was..for that matter. All she had was a sense of hope that she couldn’t abandon. Those and the memories. </p><p>Just a few months ago, those memories from past resets had been the thing dragging her to her deathbed. Now, they were the only thing that kept her alive. That and Tim. </p><p>She cracked open an eye to see the boy sitting beside her in a small chair. She managed a small smile, “Hey, kiddo.” </p><p>Tim looked over at her, his shaggy hair hanging in his face, “Hey, Aunt Emma.” </p><p>She had to stifle a flinch at the scar that now covered his right eye, marking the place where he’d been thrown into a tree. The boy coped with his new half-blindness well, despite the circumstances. </p><p>Tim scooted closer to her pallet, “You sleep okay?”</p><p>She shrugged, trying to push herself up into a sitting position, against the complaints of her body, “As well as I could. You?”</p><p>Tim shrugged, “As well as I could.”</p><p>Another crash came from the mouth of the tunnel where Xander and John worked tirelessly to free them. She looked to her nephew, running a hand through his messy hair, "They making any progress?”</p><p>Tim sighed, “Xander thinks it'll still be a few months.”</p><p>She sighed and tried to keep a look of disdain down for Tim’s sake, “Okay…okay...okay…”</p><p>They'd already been at this for three months, and though she’d offered to help as much as she could, Xander refused to let her or Tim help. Tim, because he was so young, and Emma, because they didn't want her to endanger the work they’d done on her leg. She thought those were bullshit arguments and tried to explain that with at least three of them working in the tunnel, there would be a greater chance of them going home before Hidgens’ supplies ran out, but Xander and John would hear nothing of it.</p><p>Apparently, removing a leg was something neither of them had done before, but the assessment they'd made of Emma when they finally managed to pull her from the rubble was that the leg had to come off lest she want to lose so much blood and die as a result of it. They'd already thought it was a miracle that she was alive when she was pulled free of all the rocks and metal, so why not try and save her life with all the medical equipment Hidgens had kept? It wasn't the best, but they managed to get the leg off...which was good, she guessed…but Xander wasn't entirely sure that her residual limb had healed properly. It also certainly didn't help that his doctorate was in theoretical physics, not actual medicine.</p><p>So, she humored them while they made their agonizingly slow pace through the dirt and stone that had severed them from PEIP’s underground base. She could only hope that they weren't wasting their time digging. Hoping that the base was still standing. Hoping that those she loved were still alive…</p><p>The thoughts of Paul returned. </p><p>She remembered their last conversation. When she’d been putting on tactical gear to prepare for the mission that would save Tim, and hopefully the rest of the world. She’d been alone, so no one was there when Paul wandered in, his eyes filled with sadness and understanding as he watched her. But, instead of asking her to stop, he’d merely helped her into the vest and padding, making sure she would be protected. She’d almost been completely finished with getting ready when she’d seen the tears in his eyes. She’d remembered how she’d promised him that she would come back...how she wouldn't abandon him. How she would get Tim back, get him back to Tom and the rest, and when worse came to worst, they would at the very least be together. All that mattered to her was that they were safe and together. He’d wanted it too. And she’d promised to see it through.</p><p>And life had made her break those promises. </p><p>She couldn’t forgive herself for breaking them. Between losing her leg, watching Tim get injured, and being trapped in an area where they were sealed off from all the other potential survivors, she could only hope that Paul was still alive in there. That the base hadn’t fallen, that PEIP still survived. That the survivors of Hatchetfield had made a home in there, in spite of PEIP being without the proper leadership of John. Mostly, though, she just wished that Paul was alive and okay. </p><p>It was all she could think about before she went to sleep, and all that occupied her mind when she woke up.</p><p>She tried not to let it eat away at her every waking moment, but the fact was, that they were both in states where neither of them knew if the other was alive. She certainly hoped he was.</p><p>The idea of him being dead was too much for her to take. </p><p>She could go over that same old spiel about how many times they’d lost one another. In the previous lifetimes and the present, but none could equate to the more recent. It was almost as if every single time got all the more painful. Each time they were forced apart, she was left wondering if she would ever see his dopey blue eyes again. Those eyes that she loved more than anything else in the world. </p><p>God, the mere memories of him were what she had to hold onto in her hopes that he wasn’t dead, but the fear remained all the same. </p><p>In spite of her attempts to distract herself with work (which mainly was a repetitive cycle that left her mind jumping from place to place anyway), she always found herself reflecting on Paul. And it hurt. </p><p>Everything about their situation-emotional and physical- hurt. </p><p>She wouldn’t cry in front of Tim, though. </p><p>Despite her insistence that it was okay for him to cry, he’d been putting on a stiff upper lip, insisting that he was okay and that he would continue to work until they got home. She was proud of him in his willingness to work and do what he could to make sure they didn’t die as they attempted to return to the people they loved and cared about. Still, she knew it was unhealthy for him to not be releasing the emotions she could see in his dark eyes. Much like Emma and Jane had been when they were younger, they were never keen on letting others see themselves cry...which made the eventual breakdown all the worse, and sometimes over the smallest things. Jane, for example, had been bottling up a great deal of anxiety regarding college applications over the course of her senior year. All it took was a single scathing grade in calculus, and then she lost it. Emma couldn’t blame her, to be honest...but after witnessing how often stuff like that would happen, she knew it couldn’t have been healthy for Tim to be holding everything back. </p><p>God, she wished Jane was here to give him the advice and comfort they were all in desperate need of. </p><p>She wished Tom was here to hold his son and give him the reassurances she never could. </p><p>She wished Paul was here...Tim adored him and always seemed to take whatever dorky advice he had to offer. </p><p>She wished he was there to comfort her, too. </p><p>It was selfish, she thought, to want him back so badly...but they’d barely had time together when she’d gotten him back to the point until she’d been nearly crushed. He’d always made her feel like everything was going to be okay. He didn’t even have to try to reassure her for her to feel like everything could become okay. One look into those crystal clear blue eyes and the stormy skies of her life would clear. </p><p>A loud crash from the tunnel sounded again, and moments later, a dust-covered pair of idiots emerged, arms around one another. </p><p>John’s beard had grown out of hand over the course of the last few months, to the point at which he’d attempted to trim it with a scalpel they’d salvaged from a destroyed lab station. Xander’s stubble had grown too, but not nearly as out of hand as his husbands. In the course of digging, however, they’d always managed to emerge looking like statues...or something out of an Alexandre Dumas novel. </p><p>Xander grinned, making the clay-like dust across his face ripple and crack as he approached where Tim and Emma sat. </p><p>“What’s your progress?” Emma asked as he sat down on his own makeshift cot, using a washcloth to wipe away at the dirt and dust that covered his face. </p><p>“We’re making good progress and managed to get what we think is cement out of the way,” Xander smiled, his voice sounding raspy, “But it was rough.” </p><p>John sat down next to his husband, combing his fingers through his beard to rid it of any spare flecks of dust and rubble, “We were worried we might cause another cave-in, so we’re gonna stop for today.”</p><p>Emma nodded, “How long?” </p><p>Xander bit down on his lip, lifting a water bottle to his lips, taking a long swig of it, “We think maybe two or three months.”</p><p>She sighed and leaned back, propping herself up on her hands, “You know if you let us help you, it would go a lot faster…” </p><p>“Absolutely not,” John said curtly, “We can’t risk damaging your leg any more than it already is...at least until we can get a proper doctor to examine it. Remember the fever you had shortly after we lobbed your leg off?” </p><p>She, in fact, didn’t remember the occasion, because she was unconscious for a majority of the time. However, she’d heard an earful about it from them afterward, and was grateful for that fact. </p><p>Shortly after they’d removed her leg and burned what was left of the damaged appendage, she’d developed an infection around the area, rendering her burning up and delirious. By some stroke of luck, they’d found some antibiotics and stuff that could potentially help ward off any infection of the area, but during that time, she’d been delirious. Almost as if she’d been put under some hallucinogen or toxin, that made her express her agony in a very loud and visceral way, often leaving Tim to play nursemaid and give her whatever pain meds they had to stop her from screaming in pain. </p><p>According to Tim, when she’d been unconscious and stuck in this almost satanic delirium they’d not known whether or not she’d wake up from, she’d called out for Paul several times. The thought of appearing so weak to her nephew would have once seemed humiliating, but the fact broke her heart instead. </p><p>It was true, she knew, how painful and confusing everything was once she’d woken up.  At that moment, all she wanted was Paul. And he wasn’t there. She didn’t even know whether or not he was alive. </p><p>Still, she carried on. Maintaining the facade she could keep of toughness and strength. She was a fighter. She was no waif. She wouldn’t allow herself to give up because she was in pain or wanted to see him so badly. She wouldn’t succumb to the uncertainty. </p><p>She would survive on the hope that somewhere out there, Paul was alive. </p><p>Because she was Emma <em> fucking </em> Perkins. </p><p>She sighed and nodded, “I think we have enough rations to last us that long, but we have to remember that Hidgens was preparing to take care of himself when he was preparing for the apocalypse...not four people.” </p><p>John nodded, “If we keep at this pace, though, that shouldn’t matter...right Xander?” </p><p>Xander nodded after taking another sip of his water, “If we keep up the pace, we should be fine, under the assumption that we were right about the collapse being only three yards thick.” </p><p>In three months, they’d been able to move forward about four feet. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t realistic to believe they’d made that much progress in such a short amount of time. Hadn’t it taken those guys in the Count of Monte Cristo, like, five years to move that far? </p><p>Regardless of how odd the situation was, she was grateful for the progress they’d made. After all, with each inch of dust they cleared, they were one inch closer to the people they cared about. They were closer to going home. </p><p>Emma inhaled and exhaled sharply at the thought of the months that lay ahead. The months that would sever her from any chance at seeing Paul again. </p><p>Tim noticed her discomfort at the idea and took her hand gently in his own, “We’ll get back to them,” he promised, keeping his tone as hopeful as he could, “I know we will.” </p><p>She smiled at the hope in his eyes and ran a hand through his scruffy hair, “I know we will, bud.” </p><p>Did she? </p><p>Was there any guarantee that they’d be making it back to the ones they loved? </p><p>Was there any guarantee that they were still alive? </p><p>She knew the answer was no. But the hope...the hope that occupied the bright eyes of her nephew was all that mattered. As long as it gave them a reason to survive she would indulge it. </p><p>Because she couldn’t lose sight of the belief that Paul was still out there. That maybe he was waiting for her. That maybe they still had a chance at a life together...with the family they’d forged in the middle of confusion while awaiting Armageddon. </p><p>Later, when everyone had collectively decided that it was time for sleeping, she stared at Tim’s small sleeping frame on the pallet a few feet from her own. </p><p>He slept on his stomach, his mouth open as he snored softly. His already-messy red-brown hair was tangled and growing all the more ruffled as his head turned about in his sleep. All four of his limbs, which were growing slightly more knobbly and gangly with the amount of food they could afford to eat on a daily basis, were extended across the width and the length of the mattress like he was gripping the corners. Still, in spite of his unruly positioning, he looked peaceful. Something that had evaded her since they’d been trapped in Hidgens’ basement. </p><p>John and Xander were curled up on their own ratty, makeshift mattress on the other side of the room, cuddled up in one another's arms, looking peaceful and worn out from a day of working. She owed a great deal to them. </p><p>Xander had helped her bring Paul back to her all those months ago. John had been the one to prevent Hidgens from killing Paul once they’d got him back...keeping him alive despite the malicious cerulean stain his blood had. John and Xander had been the ones to allow her to come on the mission that would save Tim’s life. They’d been the ones to help Tim dig her out of the rubble. They’d been the ones to save her life by removing her decimated limb. They’d been the ones to take care of Tim while she’d been unconscious and out of commission as a result of the blood loss and infection. </p><p>They’d been like some sort of guardian angels to her and Tim over the course of the past few months. And they’d been working their asses off to return themselves to PEIP. </p><p>To Tom. </p><p>To Lex, Ethan, and Hannah. </p><p>To Becky. </p><p>To <em> Paul. </em></p><p>She owed a great deal of her survival to them, and she was certain she’d never forget them in her lifetime. She only hoped their digging wasn’t a fool's errand. </p><p>She leaned back against the basement wall with a small sigh, a small tear slipping down her cheeks as the soreness in her leg rose to a stabbing pain which made her want to grip at it and remove what was left. Pained sobs choked up in her throat as she tried to swallow her agony, the cramping and stabbing making her feel like she was bruised from the inside out. Trying to avoid waking up Tim and the others, she bit down hard on her lip, trying to stifle her shallow breathing and cries. </p><p>She lay back against the makeshift pillows she’d been leaning against for what seemed like an eternity, letting the tears roll silently down her face, praying for some form of sleep to claim the agony from her. </p><p>
  <em> I miss you, Paul. </em>
</p><p>---   </p><p>
  <em> He didn’t know what he was seeing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For once, the dreams hadn’t come to him in vivid shades, defined lines, and clear images that would make him live the next morning feeling like he’d been deserving of what horror the dream had to convey to him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everything looked brown. If not, it looked like someone had placed a sepia filter over his eyes, painting everything as if it were a photograph from the eighteen hundreds. There were a few bursts of color, which seemed to be coated in dust as he passed them. Almost as if he was walking through a deserted wasteland, he could make out the remains of different objects that might have once held importance but because the world was a blur, he could see nothing exceedingly clearly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A small sound caught his attention, causing him to whirl around in the darkness of...wherever he was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At first, it sounded like a small cry from a wounded animal, but as the place was almost entirely devoid of life, it didn’t make sense that something would have been alive down here. He began to pace through the blob-like figures of the area, unable to see clearly what he was looking at. For a moment, it looked almost as if he were walking through one of those nuclear towns from the 1960s (was that what they were called?), an empty ghost town, filled with colorful figures that might have once tried to portray life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A sharp sigh caught his attention once more, causing him to stumble forward, looking for what he was pretty sure was a wall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he moved forward, he tripped over something. Something...cushion-like, forcing him to fall to the solid, hard ground. His palms ached as he slammed down upon the cool floor, which felt vaguely like concrete. As he tried to push himself up, he took note of another blob of color that seemed to be leaning up against the wall...almost like a statue.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Only, it wasn’t a statue. It was a person.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The blurred figure was mostly covered in faded shades of grey, minus the areas that might have been skin. He could make out no features of the person’s face, only that they had tanned skin and dark brown hair...and they were shaking.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sound of stifled cries of pain cut into his heart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why did they sound so familiar?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He tried to reach forward to comfort the person. To perhaps, see the person more clearly. To let them know that they weren’t alone. But then of course, he remembered, it was all a dream.  </em>
</p><p><em> Suddenly, in spite of the lack of movement from the person, a loud, clear voice erupted in his head. Not like they’d spoken, but like he could </em> hear <em> them.  </em></p><p>
  <em> He recognized the clearness of thought as one message and one message alone reached him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A message that echoed in his mind in a familiar voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A voice that made his heart shatter even more as he recognized it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In spite of not listening to anyone’s thoughts in the last three months, Paul Matthews heard this one almost as if he was in the same room.  </em>
</p><p>“I miss you, Paul.” </p><p> </p><p>He shot up in bed with a hoarse gasp, coughing and grasping at the blankets with grabby hands that needed something- anything- to hold onto. He wiped his sweaty brow with a shaky hand unable to believe the voice he’d just heard. His breaths were choked off as he took in his surroundings. He was in the apartment. He was okay...right?</p><p>He was only able to get one word out as he gasped for air, desperate to process what he’d just experienced.</p><p>The name of the person, the voice- or rather the thought- had belonged to. </p><p>“<em> Emma…?” </em></p><p>  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AAAAND WE’RE BACK!!!!!</p><p>Poor Paul.<br/>Poor Emma.<br/>They're back in the ’needing hugs’ stage.</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos to let me know what you think!!! I certainly hope we're off to a good start here!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! If you've already read ’On the Outside Looking In’ thank you for sticking with this story and my word vomit!!!! I hope you're as excited as I am to continue on with the second part of this story that I'm having an amazing time writing!!!</p><p>THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Put Me Inside Flesh that is Dying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ted Spankoffski is a Bastard<br/>Xander and John are in love and digging a tunnel<br/>New friends arrive on the scene<br/>Paul contemplates and mourns</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ’Please Don’t Take Your Love Away’ by Vast</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Descriptions of wounds (yes, I mean Emma’s leg)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: November 28th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p><br/>Ted Spankoffski went by many names. </p><p>To the many women he’d had affairs with, he was a horny bastard. To Jenny, he’d been Teddy. To his parents, he was Theodore. To his brother, he was Theo. And to his coworkers, he was just Ted. </p><p>None of that changed in the end days, even as the world was now in a state of pseudo-dystopian bullshit he’d never truly understood. </p><p>When he’d escaped and found the world burning, he’d been fairly certain that he didn’t have to do anything useful. He didn’t have anything left to offer the world now that his crappy low-work expectations job was finished. Vaporized, actually, if he understood it. Not that he cared. He just assumed that he could get away without doing anything for the rest of his life. These people for the government would take care of him while he sat back and relaxed, right? He knew the world was going to hell long before the emergency broadcasts had erupted through every technological device owned by the people in Hatchetfield. All he did was get in his car, not even bothering to wait for his coworkers, and drove off in the directed area, knowing that surely, everything would be okay. </p><p>Apparently, that wasn’t the case. </p><p>As soon as the world they knew had been sealed off, that Schaeffer bitch had demanded that everyone above the age of seventeen contribute to PEIP’s cause to receive benefits. Which, of course, landed him back in a tech support area, right next to the information department where his until-recently-nonexistent-best-friend, Paul worked, alongside Bill Woodward. Charlotte remained in tech support with him, which was fortunate because she was a recent widow, and they were both very horny, which allowed him to avoid studying the more unfortunate and shitty aspects of their new day-to-day life. </p><p>He didn’t get to talk to Paul as much anymore. Mainly because somehow, for whatever reason, Paul had been making more efforts to avoid him, looking like he was an expressionless ghost as he walked the halls. In addition to that, he was noticeably thinner and sickly-looking, making Ted wonder what Emma had been doing to make him be this way. </p><p>It wasn’t until a few days before, that he learned Emma was, in fact, dead. </p><p>He’d not made the effort to actively know what was going on in Paul’s life. Unless it made him feel better about his own shitty life, he didn’t care. It wasn’t until he was walking back from getting food at the commissary, that he realized that Emma’s picture was on the wall of the lost and missing. Suddenly, Paul’s new behavior made sense, and Ted found more and more reasons to avoid the man as emotions like grief were always things Ted could poke at, and poking at Paul didn’t seem like it would be as much fun as it normally was.  He’d never seen Paul angry, and for whatever reason, something was stopping Ted from pursuing it any further.  </p><p>Another day had passed by in an agonizing blur where he’d spent most of it hitting on Charlotte, just trying to get any form of attention that would distract him from how shitty his life was. Once the bell rang out, he watched as the people from the Intelligence and Information department filed out of their area, taking note of two of his coworkers from CCRP as per usual, Paul and Bill. As per usual, Paul seemed to leave before anyone else, not stopping for any pleasantries, but something was...off. </p><p>He noted that today was slightly different in the way Paul looked. Rather than looking just plain tired, he looked...thoughtful. Almost as if he had something on his mind that he couldn’t quite make sense of. Like he’d been told a joke that he couldn’t quite get and wouldn’t stop until he understood the punchline.</p><p> Soon after Paul walked off, however, Ted found himself watching Bill look like he was about to stop the dead-looking Paul in his tracks, only to hesitate and let the much taller man walk off in silence. </p><p>He’d found that this was normal over the past few months, seeing as how Bill had reverted to an even more meek and stupid version of himself and Paul had unwittingly reverted to a shell of himself. A shell that looked even more like a fucking twig that was raised on nothing but chicken soups and fear of failure. Bill not knowing what to say to Paul, or having something to say but not indulging himself</p><p>Ted snorted and walked up behind Bill, clapping him on the back. </p><p>“You know Paul’s your friend, right?” he snorted as Bill stiffened under his hand, “You can still talk to him.”</p><p>“I know,” Bill sighed, “He’s just been...through a lot lately...and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable…”</p><p>Ted shook his head, “The best cure to grief is ignoring it.” </p><p>Bill groaned and rolled his eyes, “And how would you know that?” </p><p>“I mean, take Charlotte for example, ” Ted pointed across the room, to where Charlotte was meekly making her way towards the exit that would lead her back to the holding area where she was staying,  “She loses ol’ Sam, and now look at her...sleeping with me and happy as a lark...Paul just needs to find a new person to bone.” </p><p>Bill’s face contorted in disgust, a wave of anger that Ted had never seen on the mans face burning in his eyes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed. </p><p>Ted shrugged, “Can’t apologize because it’s true.” </p><p>“You honestly have no idea what this is doing to him, do you?” Bill snarled, before chuckling bitterly, “Of course you don’t, because I’ll bet you’ve<em> never </em> loved anyone as much as Paul loved Emma…”</p><p>“Where the fu-” Ted began, not knowing why the hell Bill had picked <em> now </em>of all times to get angry. He had to admit, it was quite funny to watch the man get angry, for he didn’t know whether or not the man was serious or not. </p><p>“I’m not done yet!” Bill loudly whispered, dragging Ted aside, “You didn’t even know Emma was dead until a few days ago, did you? Of course, you didn’t. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You didn’t have anyone to lose..<em> .but Paul did </em> ...I mean, Emma was <em> everything </em> to him...and you couldn’t care less about the impact her…” he hesitated on his words, tears forming in his eyes making Ted suddenly feel a slight amount of guilt and anger build up in his chest. Bill inhaled and exhaled sharply, “The impact that her loss had on him... ” </p><p>Bill was shaking with anger now, “Honestly, Ted, at the very least could you just leave him alone…” </p><p>Ted held his hands up in surrender, not really feeling the guilt that the overemotional Bill was trying to get him to feel, but was willing to do anything to get the man off of his soapbox, “Alright, alright, Woodward, I get it.”</p><p>“Really?” Bill snapped in a way that was almost uncharacteristic of the meek and mild Bill that Ted knew, “Because I don’t think you do.”</p><p>“Nah, I do...I do…” Ted muttered, “I’ll leave the noodle alone.”</p><p>Bill nodded, “Good.”</p><p>With that, turning in a fashion of righteous fury, Bill turned on his heel, stomping off in anger that made Ted laugh. </p><p>What a fucking moron. </p><p>Bill had no idea what he was doing, claiming Ted had never loved anyone. Sure, he was an asshole nowadays, but there was once a time when things had been sweeter. A time when he actually gave a damn about the woman’s feelings in an affair (because that was where the bar was set for him). </p><p>Those were the days where he and Jennifer Henderson would get high behind the school during lectures and yet somehow manage to maintain good grades that would keep them afloat throughout the year. Most people knew her as Jennifer, but her close friends knew her as Jenny, and she was the coolest person he’d known. With fiery red hair and intelligent green eyes, she always reminded him of a force of nature. Despite her being the college dorm party type with a knack for rolling blunts, she was unusually gentle and soft-spoken, which he’d found endearing. That wasn’t to say she was a pushover by any means. No. That just meant that it was all the more terrifying when she got angry, especially with him, and <em> she did </em>get angry with him on several occasions. Man, those were the days…</p><p> Those were the days when someone would laugh at his jokes because they thought he was funny and not because they wanted to get laid (mainly because they hated their lives just as much as he hated his). Those days were over, however, changed by an impromptu marriage proposal and a move to Clivesdale of all places. Or so he’d thought. </p><p>One night, around January of 2008, he’d gotten mostly drunk off his ass. Not too drunk to the point where he wouldn’t remember the affair the next morning, but enough to make him incoherent and able to make even worse decisions than he actually did in his everyday life. With a stroke of genius, he’d decided he was tired of feeling sorry for himself and the fact that Jenny had left him for <em> fucking </em>Clivesdale, and that he was gonna track her down and convince her to leave her marriage with the pushy asshole that had taken her away from him, to begin with. So, naturally, he found her parent’s home phone number, especially since Hatchetfield still used the YellowPages, and called them around eleven o’clock at night. The plan had seemed so simple to his non-sober mind; he would call Jenny once he got her number or address from where she lived with that dick she’d married, profess his love and succeed in talking her into leaving her husband for him.  He knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse. </p><p>The information he’d received from her less-than-kind father had made him blubber like a baby in his drunken stupor. </p><p>Apparently, Jenny had been on the missing person list since October of 2004. Her case was cold, with no evidence, only a severe lack of Jennifer Henderson. </p><p>The police had interviewed her would-be fiance, Andy something-or-rather, who’d been ‘shaken to the core’ over Jenny’s loss and had also been mugged the day it happened by an unknown man. Andy had sustained wounds that had left him half-blind and with short-term memory during the assault, so he’d been unable to recall the features of the man responsible, who they’d figured might have murdered Jenny. The only problem was that there was no evidence of Jenny anywhere. No security camera footage. No DNA was found in her apartment. No evidence of a struggle. Just no Jenny. He’d gotten off the phone and gotten drunk off his ass after he learned all this information and woke up with a hangover from the depths of hell. </p><p>The days when he cared and gave a damn about other people were over. Bill would never know those days had existed. </p><p>Ted was a bastard, and he was proud of that fact. </p><p>So, who cared if Paul was grieving? He could do what Ted had done for the past fourteen years; live to forget how shitty life had gotten. But, naturally, Paul was a stupid romantic that was too attached to a fucking barista that gave Ted a headache and probably spat in coffee more than she actually made it. He wouldn’t deny the fact that Emma had been attractive, but she was <em> mean. </em> Why Paul, a sensitive man who had more in common with a bottle of mayonnaise than he did an average person, had fallen in love with a woman like <em> that </em>, he’d never know.</p><p>Ted snorted to himself before looking up at the digital clocks that lined the hallway walls. He had about an hour before curfew started, and he was determined to spend that hour obtaining a beer from the commissary...he was pretty sure he had seen some on the back shelves.  Regardless, he was determined to drink; a small price to pay for being admonished by Bill. </p><p>As he made his way to the elevators, he stared at the floor, watching the way his PEIP-issued shoes made scuff marks against the floor that would no doubt give the janitors a tough time later. He pushed the button on the elevator door and waited, something he’d never been able to do. </p><p>Like Charlotte, he’d been living in one of the warehouse holding areas, since he didn’t have anyone of close relation that he wanted to stay with him. He still had no clue where his brother was, but he honestly didn’t care. With such a big age difference, his brother (what was his name again?) could do whatever he wanted. Ted was just glad that <em> he </em> was safe. The warehouses themselves, however, had consisted mainly of a bunch of wire-framed cots and sheets in areas that were sectioned off with thick curtains from other people. Inside each small curtained-off section, they’d been given the cots, sheets, blankets, and pillows for the aforementioned cots, and a large chest where they were able to store their clothes that had been distributed to them, which indicated their job and demographic group. </p><p>Slowly, the elevator doors pulled open and he stepped inside, only to be joined by a few people from the science division, dressed in a light shade of grey and starchy lab coats. He rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear their hushed talk about science shit he’d never be able to understand. Sure, he’d once worked over a lab, but that had driven him insane by the way the people working at CCRP talked. He just hated scientists. That was all. </p><p>Unlike the more pleasant elevators that he’d been in before, this one had no music to distract from the way that the people from the science division talked and stood, annoying Ted even more. </p><p>Instead, he tried to focus on the sounds of the elevator as it slowly made its way through the different layers of the PEIP base. </p><p>He yawned. Maybe once he was done with eating his portion of shitty rations for the evening, he’d not bother trying to smuggle Charlotte into his curtain home. Maybe he’d sleep. If his neighbors had cared about him and Charlotte having sex in the not so private area, they didn’t bother reporting him or asking him to stop. So long as that was the norm, he would continue to do so. </p><p>He groaned loudly as the elevator continued its slow pace, drawing some slightly incredulous looks from the other passengers. He was just about to tell them to fuck off when he heard something that was barely a whisper echo in his mind. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Oh...you’re PERFECT”</em> </b> </p><p> </p><p>The sound was small. Barely audible, but he had heard it loud enough to discern that the words had been spoken by a cartoon sounding voice. It almost reminded him of Goofy for some reason. As he looked at the scientists, none of them had moved their lips. So unless they were good at ventriloquism, there was a chance he was already drunk or something. He honestly didn’t know, nor did he care how inebriated he was. </p><p>“Did you hear that?” he loudly asked the other passengers, who uncomfortably shifted away from him with a shake of their heads.</p><p><em> Huh, weird, </em>he thought to himself, trying to get the creepy cartoon character’s voice out of his head. </p><p>As he walked out of the elevator towards the commissary, Ted lingered on Bill’s words. </p><p>No, he was not a good man, he knew. </p><p>He was a bastard. </p><p>And he was alright with that. </p><p>---</p><p>The rhythmic clink of the chisels and tools against the stone and rubble was almost like a lullaby to Xander as they spent another day trying to dig out as much as they could. </p><p>Three months of them planning and trying to remove as much dirt and rubble as they could. </p><p>Three months of emerging from the cave mouths covered in dirt. </p><p>Three months of wondering why such a specific section of the cavern had collapsed on them. </p><p>Well, not <em> them.  </em></p><p>Emma. </p><p>It had taken four days of digging to get Emma out of the rubble that had trapped her for so long. It was lucky that only a part of her arm had been left exposed from the rocks and stones, allowing them to check her pulse and see that she was alive. Tim had been the one to start digging her out, pawing away at the rocks and stones whilst crying loudly, the shock of it all crashing down upon the small boy in a way that broke Xander’s heart. Quickly, he and John had joined him in helping extricate Emma from the ruin, a feat that ended up taking much longer than they planned as they didn’t want to risk anything else falling on Emma and compromising her life. </p><p>When they’d pulled her from the rubble, she’d resembled a raw piece of meat, and he’d had to cover Tim’s eyes. There was so much blood. If it weren’t for the scarily faint pulse he was receiving from her wrist he would have thought he was looking at the work of a serial killer. </p><p>Her body was broken and bruised all over, varying shades of red and purple painting her body like graffiti. Her eyes were squeezed shut like she was caught in the middle of a nightmare she couldn’t escape. In some ways, he felt like Miracle Max from The <em> Princess Bride, </em> and had to resist turning to Tim to tell him his aunt was only ‘mostly dead’. She should have been dead, however, with as much blood as she had lost and was <em> still </em>losing. If there was a higher power, they’d picked the right time to suddenly come to Emma’s aid. Whatever it was that was making Emma hang onto life by a thread, it must have been some powerful shit. He would have thought he’d taken a corpse out of the rocks had it not been for Tim’s insistence that she was still alive, and the very faint pulse. </p><p>The most horrifying part of this, however, had been her left leg.</p><p> It had been pinned under something he and John had to lift while dragging her out of the rocks so that it didn’t fall on her again and cause more damage. When they pulled her out, they could see that it fell limply at multiple weird angles, and the swelling and bruising indicated enough that the bone had been snapped. Even worse, there were several gouges that looked infected and covered with dried blood which made him want to vomit the longer he looked at it. Almost instantly, John had decided that the leg had to come off. It was a miracle in itself that she hadn’t succumbed to blood loss or infection already. </p><p>This is why Xander realized very quickly that he was very lucky to not have pursued medicine. Despite not knowing how to properly remove a decimated limb, Hidgens had multiple medically-suited facilities and medical-grade narcotics that he could not have gotten legally. Most fortuitous, were they in the fact that Hidgens kept scarily detailed instructions on how to amputate and seal up a decimated limb, which is why they managed to avoid killing Emma in the process of removing her leg just above the knee. </p><p>Then they’d had to wait. </p><p>They’d decided that they’d all stay in the main lab room where the access to the tunnel was, that way if anyone came through for them, they could easily have access to Emma, who remained unconscious for about a month and required extreme medical attention, as well as Tim, who was adapting quite well to his half-blindness. Then, he and John had set to work on figuring out how to dig themselves out, leaving Tim to care for Emma while they would work. </p><p>According to Tim, Emma took on a fever shortly before she woke up, muttering pained sayings that didn’t make sense, or muttering Paul’s name over and over again. Despite the pain meds that Hidgens had a stock of (namely, Oxycodone and Codeine), Emma was still very obviously in pain and had been fighting for her life for as long as a month. At some point, John and Xander had discussed putting her out of her misery while Tim was asleep. </p><p>Still, she’d persisted and woken up, admittedly shocking them all. </p><p>Though initially, she was terrified to learn that she no longer had a left leg and that they were stuck in Hidgens’ basement, Xander thought she adapted well to their situation. Besides, she had Tim to care for, which gave her something to do despite her not being mobile. She was anxious to get out of there, he knew.</p><p>He could see it in her eyes that she missed Paul with her whole being. He could tell she was fighting against letting it show, so he wouldn’t ask unless she wanted to talk about it, but he couldn’t imagine the kind of physical and emotional pain she was in. </p><p>At least he and John were together. </p><p>If they’d been separated again, he didn’t know if he could bear it. After being separated for so long, him in reality while John was stuck in the Black and White, any more time spent apart would have killed Xander, made him lose hope.  After getting John back after so long, he’d been silently determined to not let him go again. He couldn’t imagine what Paul must have been thinking while on the other side of the blockage...if everyone at PEIP was still alive. </p><p>He just needed to be grateful that everyone on their side was alive and together. That was enough for him to ask for. In the past few months, he and John had done everything they could to move as quickly as they could through the fallen rubble without endangering themselves or making the damage worse than it already was.</p><p>With each passing day, they managed to make a little more progress. While it wasn’t enough to warrant a whole lot of hope, it did provide Xander with just a little bit more optimism to get him through the day. </p><p>John rolled aside another rock, moving it to the small pile that they would drag out of the tunnel when they saw it fit to stop with a small groan, his eyes shadowed deeply underneath them from a restless sleep he’d been afflicted with the night before. Though they’d both emerged from the tunnels every single day, caked in dust and dirt and grime, he’d never looked more handsome to Xander. </p><p>To be honest, every single day he spent knowing that he and John were alive and together made him feel safer and stronger with each passing day. He could only hope John felt the same. </p><p>“You okay?” he whispered, causing John to look up and smile at him. </p><p>“Never better,” he chuckled, “I love lifting rocks from a cave-in during my spare time” </p><p>Xander chuckled and shook his head at the sardonic humor that John was slowly adopting after spending so much time with Emma, “Don’t we all? We should have done this for our honeymoon.”</p><p>John laughed before raising an eyebrow, “Nah, I think I preferred Tahiti to this…” </p><p>“You kidding me?” Xander exclaimed, trying to make his voice sound as incredulous as possible, “You would have preferred relaxing on a beach rather than lifting boulders in a cave?” </p><p>“Any day of the week,” John nodded, “Although, I must say, the Professor has better booze than we did on our honeymoon.”</p><p>“I can agree with that!” Xander laughed. </p><p>Although they stayed inside the lab where the tunnel had access to, rather than the small bedrooms and other areas that characterized the Professor’s expansive basement, they often paid visits to the bar, raiding the liquor that the Professor had a hearty stock of. It helped make their extended stay in the underground cryptic basement of nightmares slightly better, in Xander’s opinion. </p><p>“Do you think-” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ring! Ring! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Behind them, the small signal bell that he had set up for Emma and Tim to use while they were deep in the tunnels to signal if anything had gone wrong went off. </p><p>He turned to John, “Something’s wrong.” </p><p>John pulled his firearm from the small pile of tools that they had in the small corner formed by a crevice in the rock.  They both nodded at one another, silently shifting back into the mode of operation that made them the best soldiers to enter PEIP since 1960. </p><p>Whatever had gone wrong, they’d make sure they lived to fight another day. </p><p>---</p><p>It was supposed to be a short holiday in Hatchetfield, Lucy knew. Just a small stop to appease Jonathan with wedding shopping before returning to England for the wedding itself.</p><p>She’d seen it as an excuse to go through the Witchwoods in search of her favorite savior, the Hatchetfield Ape-Man. Not that Jonathan needed to know that. He’d seen all of her previous exploits in Hatchetfield to be a waste of time. An indulgence of her childish fantasies. </p><p> She didn’t care what he thought. She didn’t care what her parents had said about her ideas regarding the hulking man that had saved her life when she was a little girl. She didn’t care that they justified it by being a way by which she made sense of trauma. </p><p>She knew he was real and she was going to find him, regardless of what anyone said. </p><p>What she hadn’t been expecting, however, was the apocalypse.</p><p>Jonathan had told her to hurry back from her little ‘hike in the woods’ as their flight was supposed to leave that afternoon and he’d wanted to see the famous Hatchetfield cliffs and cave paintings. She had intended to take her time in the woods themselves, admiring them for their beauty in the early morning light. </p><p>Jonathan was a hunter in his spare time, a rather good shot too, but he only saw the forest as a place from which he could gain trophies to boast how wonderful he was. A trait that certainly had done nothing to endear him to her. She, however, had always loved traversing through the bleak forests, seeing only beauty in the way the forest had been painted silver in the early morning light, adoring the quiet in spite of her loud personality.  </p><p>She’d always loved Hatchetfield. Since she was a little girl, she’d decided that it was her favorite place on Earth to visit. Though the locals had been strictly divided between those who absolutely loved it and those who wanted nothing more than to be free of it, she’d only been drawn in by the small charm of the town and the way that they all shared a common hatred of their sister city, the far more snobbish Clivesdale. Jonathan rather liked Clivesdale, but she found Hatchetfield to be far more endearing and delighted in the town itself. </p><p>    So, there she had been, that early August morning, walking through the cool forest, admiring the elegant patterns by which the trees stretched up into the heavens, spying a few nighthawks who took flight in the early morning, hoping she might run into, by a stroke of luck, the Wooly-Foot. The Ape-Man that had saved her life all those years ago. </p><p>She’d been met by something far worse. </p><p>She didn’t know how far she’d made it into the woods when the loud sound of crashes and booms echoed throughout the forest, sending shivers up her spine. For a moment she thought it might have just been hunters, like Jonathan...but these...these were too loud to be the sounds of rifles. </p><p>Then the trees started collapsing around her. </p><p>She’d started to run in the opposite direction, having to stifle a scream as the shadows of something she hadn’t been able to see overtook her and the vast expanse of the forest around her. With each sound of crashing, she could feel the ground beneath her shake as she bounded for the edge of the woods, hoping that she would be able to get away. She could run, but she was clearly not fast enough, as another step of whatever it was that was behind her sent her flying, crashing to the ground unconscious. </p><p>When she’d opened her eyes again, she was in a cave. </p><p>In a cave, with the being that had saved her not just once, but twice. </p><p>He resembled a man in some ways, standing up on two legs, but hunched over slightly. His entire body was covered by thick black fur that was knotted together in several places. However, rather than appearing like he might have been the cousin of a gorilla, he was moving around with the intent of gentleness and appearing non-threatening. His eyes, a shade of espresso, were kind and gentle as he looked at her,  just like she’d always remembered him. </p><p>The Hatchetfield Ape-man.</p><p>She’d been right this whole time. </p><p>Better yet, it wasn’t the monster everyone had made him out to be, rather, he was a partially civilized being, using something that resembled a saucepan to boil water over a concentrated fire and mix a fragrant assortment of leaves into it. He’d offered her tea and told her that she’d fallen. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Big monster,” he whispered, offering her a hot drink of something that smelled wonderful in a cup that seemed to be made out of a small tree stump, “Nasty fall.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Thank you,” she whispered, staring up at him in awe as she accepted the tea from him, “What was it...the thing that made me fall?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shrugged, “Don’t know...don’t like it.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shuddered at the memory of the terrifying way the thing that had been following her stomped about the earth. She lifted a hand to her head and winced when her fingers brushed against a plaster that he’d made out of leaves rested on her head, sealing up a small gash where she’d hit her head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Still hurt, Lucy?” he asked, his eyes widening in concern.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Just a little, but I’ll be fine,” she smiled up at him, still in awe that he’d saved her...again. He’d saved her life twice now. Not only that, he was </em> real. <em> After nearly fourteen years of people telling her that he couldn’t have been real and she’d been imagining things, she felt gratification like a drug sweep through her veins. She had to learn more about him, “Well, you know my name…” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” he smiled, “Lucy...really pretty name.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She blushed, “Thank you,” despite being a literal ape-man, he had more manners and charms than any man she’d ever encountered, “You simply must tell me...what is your name?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyes widened, almost as if nobody had ever asked him that before.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry, “she began, worrying that she’d offended him, “I didn’t mean to-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, no…” he whispered before lifting a hand to his chest, “Chumby.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Chumby?” she confirmed, to which he nodded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, that’s a wonderful name,” she said decidedly, smiling brightly, “Thank you, Chumby, for saving me...both when I was a little girl and...today.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled at her, “My happiness.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Happiness?” she smiled, giggling slightly at the earnest way with which he said it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” he nodded, “Saving Lucy...make me happy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled wider. Good Lord, he was even more wonderful than she could have ever hoped him to be.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A loud bang from outside the mouth of the cave made her jump suddenly, making Chumby stiffen and stand a little stronger. His upper lip pulling back to reveal sharp teeth in a small snarl.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Monsters,” he mumbled, before turning back to her, “Outside not safe.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It isn’t?” she asked, not wanting to believe the words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, “Never safe. Six monsters...rule now...kings of the forest.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t believe the words, “But...but what happened to everyone...the people of Hatchetfield, I mean?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Left,” he muttered gravely, “Left or dead.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He turned back to her with a small sad smile, “Chumby sorry…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t think of anything to say. It was no secret that she was only marrying Jonathan for the sake of his money, which would further fund her exploits in Hatchetfield by which she would pursue the very man she was with.  Despite all of this, Jonathan was still a good man. A little posh and stuck-up for her taste, but he didn’t deserve to die. Nor did Rupert, who’d taken care of her and her family since she was a little girl. Since her father had died, Rupert had been in close confidence with her, allowing her to grieve and pursue the Hatchetfield Ape-man without any judgment at all. Even if he might have been silently dubious when it came to her insistence that he was real, he never hesitated to be supportive and help her move forward in her pursuits.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She wiped silent tears away, silently mourning for the two of them when Chumby placed one of his large hands gently on his shoulder.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay to cry, Lucy,” he assured her, holding up a scrap of cloth like it was a handkerchief “Normal.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She laughed tearfully before wiping more tears away. The joy of knowing that she hadn’t been traveling to Hatchetfield all these years for nothing could be prioritized over her mourning for now, “Thank you, Chumby.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Welcome,” he murmured, a small, reassuring smile crossing his face, “Can stay, if you want…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And stay with him she did. In Chumby, she found a friendship she’d never expected. He kept her safe as they traveled through the vast expanse of tunnels and caverns beneath the ground, while she helped him fill his voracity for learning new words. As they traveled beneath the surface of Hatchetfield, bringing with them the few belongings they’d both had, she tried to teach him as many words as he wanted, while he was able to find the places where they would be safe for the night. All the while, they’d learned more about one another which helped strengthen their bond. </p><p>He couldn’t remember when he was born, nor could he remember if he’d ever lived outside of Hatchetfield. He didn’t even remember if he had a family before all of this. While most of Hatchetfield had believed that he lived in the forest, he was more of a cave-dweller, having been hidden from the people of Hatchetfield throughout what must have been centuries. Only a few people had been able to catch a glimpse of him over the years, making the name Wooly-Foot synonymous with the infamous Muck-Witch, and Axe Murderer whose name she couldn’t remember. Chumby found the name to be rather funny, but he much preferred his name. </p><p>In the three months they’d spent together since the world ended, he had learned words such as gregarious, vivacious, and anomalistic, learning to say them at a relatively slow pace, but he was learning them all the same. Lucy just enjoyed his company. His mere presence somehow left her at ease...like whatever had taken Hatchetfield didn’t matter as long as she was with him. </p><p>She smiled at these thoughts as they continued down the unfamiliar tunnels, trying to find another place where they could make camp and sleep for the night. They’d created a system over the past few months where they would locate several different small caves that would make useful checkpoints, areas where it was safe for them to remain hidden for the night. They always marked these spots with a spot of light blue paint that Chumby had made himself from some small blue rocks they’d found a few weeks earlier. Every so often, they would revisit the same checkpoints, where they would stock some food and materials that they’d managed to hide away, hoping that they survived long enough to use them. It was a good system, and with Chumby’s impeccable sense of direction, they often found the same checkpoints several times. </p><p>“Should stop soon,” Chumby muttered, “Lucy look tired.” </p><p>“Hmm?” she hummed looking up at him in the dim lantern light that she carried. He was hunched over, walking on his knuckles like he always did when they traveled. While he could stand up straight, it was easier for him to travel through the low-ceilings of the Hatchetfield caves on all fours. She smiled at him, “Oh no, I’m fine! No need to stop on my account!” </p><p>He raised an extremely bushy eyebrow, “You sure?” </p><p>“Positive,” she affirmed with a smile. </p><p>He smiled in response and they kept moving, navigating their ways through the multicolored Strata of Hatchetfield. The cave walls were deep shades of burnt umber, segmented off with shades of mustard yellow and sierra brown that reminded her of a cake with many layers. Over the past few months, she’d found herself fixating on the many rock fixtures of the caves. One of their favorite pastimes was looking at different rock formations and deciding what exactly they looked like. </p><p>Suddenly, he stopped and stiffened looking ahead in puzzlement. She followed his gaze and found that he was staring at a metallic structure embedded in the dead-end of the cave. With a start, she realized she was staring at a door.</p><p>“Door,” he tilted his head at it, almost as if he were confused as to where it led. </p><p>“Want to check it out?” she asked him, to which he nodded, looking as if the door was hiding something suspicious.</p><p>“It’ll be okay, Chum,” she smiled up at him, “Maybe we can find some more supplies, or somewhere safer to stay.” </p><p>He nodded, “Okay.”</p><p>Cautiously, he approached the door and looked at the handle, making her giggle. </p><p>“It’s just a door,” she laughed, “I’m sure it’s nothing horrible.”</p><p>He hummed in response before lifting his hand and smacking the door open with gusto, almost like the door was made of paper. Once the dust cleared and the door came to rest within the room, he held out a hand and smiled politely, “After Lucy…”</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” she grinned before stepping forward and into the room. </p><p>What she saw took her breath away. Though the room was dark, she could make out the sight of a large bar with elegant carvings into the wood. She scrambled blindly around the wall for a while until she found a small light switch and flicked it on. At the far side of the room, there was a raised platform and a grand piano on what looked like a miniature stage. Around the center of the room, surrounded by a few tables and chairs, there was a perfectly square, large dance floor which appeared as though it had been rarely used with as neatly polished as the floor was. She stepped onto the floor admiring the satisfying clink of her flat shoes against the hard surface. The room was dusty and slightly disheveled like the people who’d last been in there had left in a hurry, but she smiled at the sight. In some way, it reminded her of clubs that she’d see in wartime period films. </p><p>“It’s a club of sorts,” she smiled up at Chumby, who looked about the room intently, almost like he didn’t understand it’s function. </p><p>She stepped onto the stage and walked over to the black grand piano. Gently brushing her fingers along the wood, she lifted the lid and looked down at the elegant keys. </p><p>“Know how to play?” Chumby asked from his place at the center of the dance floor.</p><p>“I haven’t in a very long while,” she sighed, “But I did love it.”</p><p>She gently traced her fingers over the keys that appeared slightly dusty from a lack of use.  It had been a very long while, but the sight of the beautiful piano was so enticing that she began to play. </p><p>It was soft and slow at first, starting with what she remembered from the <em> Clair De Lune, </em>before falling into a rhythm as the memory of the song came back to her expertly. She was reminded of the day her father had begun to teach her how to play, the way his elegant and strong fingers traced over the keys reminding her of better times. Times before she’d been made the laughingstock and pity of the high society in England. Times before she’d fallen into the spell of a world where she was drawn between duty to her father’s estate and memory, and her desire to search for the very person who’d been helping her survive these past few months. </p><p>Suddenly, Chumby stood stiffly from where he’d been swaying lightly with the music, his eyes widening as he searched the air with intent deep eyes. She stopped, “What is it?” </p><p>“Not alone,” he murmured, “Child.”</p><p>“A...a child?” she asked, not sure what he meant. </p><p>He nodded, “A child...can hear him…”</p><p>“Well, he could be alone,” she reasoned, stepping off of the stage, “He may need our help.” </p><p>He nodded, holding out his hand and dropping onto his knuckles before walking in the direction of a hallway, taking their lantern with them. </p><p>As they walked through the hallways, she took note of several open doors that seemed to lead to different-looking laboratories and bedrooms (which seemed like an odd placement of rooms). How big was this underground...home?  This area was too large to be a basement, she was sure, so who had lived here? Was it someone who’d prepared for the end of the world as they knew it? </p><p>Either way, she was confused. </p><p>They came to the end of a hallway, with a partially open door that looked as though it had been...singed around the edges. She and Chumby exchanged an odd glance. He held out a hand and pushed her behind him, “Could be dangerous…”</p><p>She rolled her eyes playfully at his chivalry (another word she’d taught him) but dutifully stood behind his massive frame as he gently pulled open the door. </p><p>The door was half-open when she heard the sound of a human voice. </p><p>“It was music, Emma!” a voice that could only have belonged to a child echoed through the tunnel, “I heard a piano...it was that one that Mom used to play…”</p><p>“How?” A woman’s voice- possibly Emma- answered back, “Tim, we’re the only ones down here…”</p><p>“I don’t know,” the boy- Tim- mused, “But it sounded beautiful…”</p><p>At that moment, Chumby pulled open the door and was met instantly by a shriek. Lucy followed him in and found herself in a room that might have once been another massive laboratory. The pristine white walls, however, were coated in dust and ash. Great big piles of broken wood and slabs littered the base of the walls. In one corner of the room, there was a mattress, probably dragged in from one of the bedrooms they’d passed with messy sheets and blankets that had been thrown aside. On the wall beside it, there was a massive hole in the wall, leading to what looked like a small tunnel that a person with a height under ten feet could walk through. The next corner had a set of pots and pans set up beside an unlit fire, almost like a makeshift kitchen. Then her eyes fell on the final free corner where two small mattresses lay against the wall. However, unlike the first bed, the owners were present. </p><p>Sitting on the first bed, was the little boy that Chumby had heard. His hair was a messy mass of shaggy red and brown mixed together. His brown eyes were wide as he took in the gargantuan figure of the Hatchetfield ape-man. Well...she noted his eyes...but to say eyes in terms of plural would be incorrect because his left eye was scarred over with a gash that looked painful. </p><p>Sitting in a wheelchair beside him was a woman. She had dark hair that was tied in an extremely messy braid. Beneath a pair of shocked brown eyes, there were immense shadows that indicated either sickness or exhaustion. She looked to be older than Lucy, probably around thirty years old. At the sight of Chumby, she threw an arm out and gestured to the young boy to get behind her as she reached behind her wheelchair to reveal a gun. </p><p>“Tim get behind me!” she shouted, pulling on a string a few times. Distantly, Lucy could hear the chime of a bell. </p><p>“Don’t shoot!” she shouted emerging from behind Chumby who appeared extremely confused, “Please don’t shoot, I swear we’re-”</p><p>“Bitch, I won’t hesitate!” the woman shouted, not lowering her gun, “Now tell me who you are or I swear…”</p><p>“Lucy!” she shouted desperately, “My name is Lucy Stockworth and I swear...I mean you no harm!” </p><p>“Yeah?” the woman raised an eyebrow, “Then who’s your friend?!”</p><p>“Chumby,” Chumby muttered loudly, gesturing to himself, “Me Chumby.”</p><p>“<em> Chumby?! </em>” She sounded incredulous.</p><p>Chumby nodded, to which Lucy joined, desperate to get the woman to lower her gun, “He’s the Wooly foot?” she offered, hoping that would make a valid explanation. </p><p>The woman scoffed, “The Wooly foot?”</p><p>“Yeah,” the boy offered meekly from behind her wheelchair, “Y’know, the Hatchetfield Ape-man?” </p><p>The woman regarded the pair for a moment before scoffing, “I’m not buying it.” </p><p>“Please!” Lucy shouted, “We didn’t know anyone was down here! We’re just trying to survive what’s going on upstairs!” </p><p>“<em> And who exactly are you? </em>” A new voice joined the conversation. </p><p>Lucy turned and saw two men emerging from the tunnels. Though they both were caked in dust and dirt, she could see that the first man had dark skin and inquisitive dark eyes. He held a gun aloft in his hand and pointed it at them, regarding Chumby with a kind of question in his eyes that Lucy wasn’t sure she liked. </p><p>The second had a long beard that was in desperate need of a rim and long hair that had been pulled back in a ponytail. Though covered in dust, she was fairly certain the hair itself was red or light brown and he wore a watch on his wrist that looked like it had seen better days. </p><p>Upon finally registering Chumby’s appearance the second man held out his hand, gesturing for his companions to lower their weapons, “It’s okay...this isn’t the work of Webby...How ya doin’, Chumby?”</p><p>Chumby raised an eyebrow before recognition rose in his dark eyes, “John Mac?”</p><p>The second man nodded, “Been a long time.”</p><p> The woman in the wheelchair whirled on John and Xander, “John, you know this...man?” </p><p>The man with the beard- John- apparently nodded with a small smile, “Yes,” he turned to the first man who looked equally confused, “Remember the mission me and Cross went on...Witchwoods thirty-six of 07?” </p><p>The first man raised an eyebrow, “You mean when you and Cross went to the woods for a cryptid...<em> You went on a search for the Hatchetfield Ape-Man!?” </em></p><p>John shrugged, “Yeah. Though he prefers his real name, Chumby,” he turned to Chumby, “That is your name right? I didn’t just make that up?”</p><p>Chumby nodded with a smile, “Right.” </p><p>“Great,” John nodded, “It’s okay, Emma, we can trust him.” </p><p>Reluctantly, the woman in the wheelchair- Emma, as confirmed by John- lowered her gun, still eyeing Lucy suspiciously. </p><p>“My apologies for the guns, Ma’am,” The first man said calmly, “We don’t know who we can trust.” </p><p>Slowly, he and John walked over and held out their hands to shake hers, “My name is Major Xander Lee of the United States Military,” he gestured to the man with the beard, “This is my husband, General John McNamara…”</p><p>“How do you do,” John greeted her as he shook her hand. </p><p>“That over there,” Xander gestured to the wary-looking woman and the little boy with her, “That’s Emma Perkins, and the little boy with her is her nephew, Tim Houston.”</p><p>Chumby smiled at the little boy, to which he offered a small wave. </p><p>“Oh,” Lucy began, “I’m Lucy Stockworth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” </p><p>“Say,” John started looking intrigued, “What’s a British Duchess doing all the way over here in apocalypse central?” </p><p>“How did you know…” she began before he cut her off. </p><p>“The local news likes to cover it when important people come to town,” Xander smiled, “You were certainly no exception.”</p><p>Lucy looked down and straightened her shirt, “Well...I’ve been holidaying here for the past couple of years in search of…” she gestured to Chumby, who had been looking with fascination at the little boy, “Well...him.” </p><p>“That was you?!” Emma exclaimed, looking from her to Chumby with an incredulous sort of air, “Well, back then I would have called you crazy...but now that you guys are...well, here…It’s kinda hard not to.”</p><p>Lucy looked down again, “Yes, it’s all rather strange isn’t it? Anyway, when the world decided to end I was knocked unconscious while I was hiking in the Witchwoods, and when I came too, Chumby here was taking care of me. We’ve been surviving together ever since.” </p><p>Emma nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation but not really accepting of it. It was at that moment, that Lucy noted that where a left leg should have been on the woman, there was only a scarred stub that looked red and bruised. Emma’s wary and short-tempered attitude sort of made sense now. </p><p>“If you don’t mind my asking,” she asked, “How did all of you end up down here?” </p><p>The three of them exchanged sad looks as Tim went over and began to whisper excited things to Chumby. Lex was able to make out a few excited ‘cool’s and ‘awesome’ as he stared up at Chumby, who looked just as equally fascinated with the little boy. A sad smile crossed Emma’s face at the sight before John spoke. </p><p>“Miss Stockworth,” he sighed, “We work for a special faction of the military known as PEIP, we call it PEIP. Our department attempted to handle certain crises of a certain nature, and as a result, we were attempting to stop the apocalypse which has now been affecting us today.”</p><p>“We were on a mission,” Xander continued, his face falling “To eliminate the threat, a demon called Mask, who was in the body of Professor Henry Hidgens- whose house we are currently in- and retrieve Tim, who’d been taken captive by the man.”</p><p>“Our vehicle was destroyed, so Emma here thought fast and got us over here, where Hidgens had dug an access tunnel into our base,” John continued, his eyes looking sad, “We were almost there when the tunnel collapsed.” </p><p>Emma noticeably flinched at the statement and cast a disdainful look down at her leg. </p><p><em> Ah, </em> Lucy thought, <em> So that’s how that happened.  </em></p><p>“ We’re trying to get back to base by clearing away the wreckage,” John explained, “That way Tim and Emma can get the medical attention they require and back to their loved ones.”</p><p>Tim’s face softened as he looked up at Chumby, “I have a dad on the other side, he doesn’t do well alone...so I hope he thinks I’m okay,” he smiled slightly, “But he has Becky, so maybe he’s alright!”</p><p>“Tim loves his dad?” Chumby questioned, smiling down at the small boy, who was sitting close to Chumby like they’d been friends for a long while. </p><p>“Very much,” Tim smiled, “I hope he doesn’t worry though...since my mom…”</p><p>He trailed off, a sad expression on his face that made Lucy realize he thought he’d said too much. He looked to Emma apologetically, but all she offered him in response was a reassuring smile. </p><p>She couldn’t believe it. This was the first time in three months that she’d seen someone who wasn’t Chumby. It was unbelievable. And the fact that they had somewhere they were going...somewhere where she and Chumby could potentially be safe…</p><p>“You guys can stay with us, if you would like,” Xander offered, “We need to dig out the tunnels faster and we could use some extra help...if you don’t want to though…”</p><p>“Chumby can help,” the big man offered, as he allowed Tim to stare in awe at his large and leathery palms, “If Lucy wants to stay too…?” </p><p>He turned to her, an earnest expression on his face as he regarded her, almost pleading with her to stay with these new people that he’d seemingly already had an affinity for. </p><p>She smiled at him, looking from a dubious-looking Emma, to John and Xander who seemed to think that it was a brilliant idea. </p><p>She looked back at Chumby, “You trust these people?” </p><p>“Friends of John Mac, friends of Chumby,” he said decidedly, before smiling down at Tim who was preoccupied with playing with his hands (Lucy had to admit that he had an excellent way with children), “New friend, Timmo.”</p><p>“Timmo?” the little boy giggled, “I like that.” </p><p>At his exuberance, Emma smiled, almost like she hadn’t seen the boy present this much life in however long they’d been down there. Lucy felt sad for the woman. In her brown eyes there was a sadness that she was trying desperately to keep at bay, Lucy could tell. While Lucy wouldn’t pry into what had made Emma so sad, she could tell it had something to do with loss.</p><p>Loss and pain. All underneath a facade of strength. </p><p>Lucy looked back at Tim and Chumby, both of whom seemed to be having a great time before she turned back to John. </p><p>“Alright,” she grinned wide, “We’ll stay.”  </p><p>---</p><p>Paul sighed as the day drew to a close again, retreating back to his apartment for another miserable evening alone. Instead of going straight to bed, however, he decided to sit on the couch and think. </p><p>That dream he’d had the night before...it <em> had </em>been a dream...right? </p><p>He had no reason to believe otherwise?</p><p>He’d had so many nightmares where he heard Emma’s voice and saw her in pain, there was no way that this was different, right?</p><p>Wrong. </p><p>He’d never heard her voice in his dreams so <em> clearly </em>before. </p><p>The last time he’d heard her voice that loud and clearly had been the day she’d…</p><p>Hell, or even before that, really, when he’d been sedated and suffering the effects of Hidgens’ betrayal. He’d heard her voice so clearly when he’d been battling the Blue away...so why was he able to hear her in his dreams that clearly? </p><p>It was a dream. </p><p>If Emma was alive, he’d know...right? </p><p>She was his soulmate. Her soul had completed his, and through dying, his soul had been splintered, shoved aside. Shattered upon the rocks of his mind and his grief. Nothing would repair that, he knew. All he had to do was attempt to move on. </p><p>It was silly, he knew. Stupid, actually, that he was considering this. </p><p>Emma was dead. </p><p>He had to accept that. </p><p>...But <em> God, </em>he didn’t want to. </p><p>A knot formed in his throat as the memory of that horrible day...the last day he’d spent with her rose in his memory. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I promise,” she began  “We’ll be together again. I will save Tim, and we’ll be together...safe and sound...I swear to you, Paul…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma…” he breathed, his voice cutting off with a choked cry. He closed his eyes as she continued to talk, holding onto him tighter, making sure he knew she was serious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I swear,” she continued, “We’ll be okay...everything will be okay again...okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shakily exhaled, opening his eyes again. For a moment, he just stared at her, his tear-filled blue eyes staring into her own like he was trying to take in their every detail. Committing every inch of her face to memory.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In a small whisper, he affirmed what she’d promised him, “Okay…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She leaned up and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, “Now let’s go kick the Black and White’s ass, okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d kissed her moments later, praying to whatever higher power existed that he wouldn’t have to know this as their last kiss. He’d wanted nothing else than her. He never wanted her to do anything for him but be herself. The knowledge that they loved one another more than anything else in the world was enough. The thought of losing her was so much for him to bear. It gripped at his veins as he continued to move his lips on hers, desperate to convey to her just how much he loved her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He should have never let her go.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They should have been wiser than to make promises that were out of their control. </p><p>She’d promised she’d come back. </p><p>All he’d wanted was for her to be alive and okay. During those wonderful eleven days that they’d had each other back for, he’d been able to turn over in bed and be satisfied just by hearing the sound of her soft breathing as she slept. The knowledge that she was alive and okay was enough to make him realize that he was safe and they were okay. He couldn’t do that anymore. </p><p>He wiped at his eyes, not even realizing that the warm tears were rolling down his cheeks, each one stinging at his eyelids as the grief decided to make itself known. </p><p>He buried his face in his hands and gasped for air in deep gulps, desperate to take in air as the weight and pain of the loss weighed itself down on his lungs, flattening them and making him feel like it was suffocating. </p><p>Grief was like a pendulum for him some nights, swinging between varying stages of pain and bartering, where he would plead with the universe to tell him the fact that she was gone wasn’t true. That it was some twisted lie that he was being forced to believe. </p><p>While he currently lived in a state of grief in which he walked the earth like a ghost, there were nights when things would get worse than the others. Nights when the grief would tie it’s noose around his neck and try to sever him from the pain itself. Nights where his screams were silent as he cried out for a woman he’d once promised to live forever and always…</p><p>
  <em> Forever and always.  </em>
</p><p>That had been his promise to her. </p><p>That had been a promise he intended to keep regardless of whether or not she lived. </p><p>A part of him would always love Emma Perkins. </p><p>No, not just a part. </p><p>The <em> whole </em> of him would always love Emma Perkins, and now that she was gone it felt like he could barely breathe anymore. Everything hurt in a way that he couldn’t describe, weighing down heavily on him. </p><p>He’d been completely in love with her.</p><p>Body, mind, and soul. </p><p>Forever and always. </p><p>The fact that he kept dreaming of her didn’t help. </p><p>But still...her voice had been so clear…</p><p>What did it mean? </p><p>As he buried his face into the couch, exhaustion suddenly weighing heavily on him like a sedative, he thought of Emma. The scent of her hair. The feeling of her hands as they combed reflexively through his hair. The warm smile that always seemed to be hiding a joke or some form of brief mockery that always endeared him. Those clever eyes that he’d loved to get lost in. </p><p>And just like the night before, the sound and memory of her voice, just like from the dream echoed through his brain before sleep laid claim to him. </p><p>
  <em> “I love you, Paul...forever and always…” </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this one was a lot longer than I planned!!!!!😬</p><p>Okay, so here's the unpopular opinion of the day...I DO NOT LIKE TED. He's an entertaining character, yes, but Time Bastard did nothing to endear his character to me. He will still be VERY important to the story, but I have to place this disclaimer. To me, he will always be the pushy, horny, office asshole. Sorry 😬</p><p>I love Joey Richter and the way he plays him is brilliant but I CANNOT STAND TED!!! Sorry if my portrayal of him is a little biased, but that's the way I'm writing him.</p><p>Xander and John are in love, thank you and good night. They're also having a grand time flirting in the caves.👍</p><p>Also!!! ✨LUCY AND CHUMBY✨!!!<br/>Chumby is a soft gentleman despite being a literal ape-man and I love him (Also, Chumby and Tim friendship is something I need)<br/>Also, I don't know if I'll put them in a relationship (Lucy and Chumby, I mean), right now they're just best buds.</p><p>Paul needs a hug and to realize he's ACTUALLY HEARING EMMA!!!!!!!!! </p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!!! I really appreciate your taking the time to read my work!!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!<br/>Please remember to be kind to yourselves and others and have a blessed day!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Need a Summer but My Summer’s Come and Gone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Checking in with Ethan Green<br/>Tim likes his new friends<br/>Emma tries to distract herself from the chronic pain<br/>Paul tries to move forward</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song ’Winter in my Heart’ by Vast.</p><p>ALSO!!! I am in need of good song suggestions with lyrics that I can use for chapter titles. I like to use 80’s, 90’s grunge, and early two-thousands kind of Emo songs, but if you have any lyric suggestions please leave them in the comments!!! If you would like to, please leave the specific lyric, the song name, and the artist with your suggestion! Musicals would also be accepted!!! I'm honestly just in desperate need of chapter title suggestions!</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Very minor suicidal idealization (not explicitly said but its there and worth mentioning), description of wounds, chronic pain</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: November 29th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p> “Hey, Myrtle!” Ethan greeted the middle-aged woman at the desk with as much gusto as he could, as not to annoy the woman any more than he had in the previous weeks, “What’s shakin’?” </p><p>The woman rolled her eyes from behind her wire-frame glasses that he could have sworn were as thick as ashtrays, “Okay, kiddo, what now?” </p><p>Ethan laughed nervously. He was visiting the registry office for the seventh time in the past few months in which he would visit Miss Myrtle, the fifty-something-year-old that always manned the registry of survivors and missing person files. It had become a habit of his to anxiously check with her to see if there were any updates on the numerous people he had missing. </p><p>Most people just went to the large wall dedicated to holding pictures of the missing people, to see if the pictures had been moved to the confirmed dead column or the survivor column, but Ethan enjoyed talking to Miss Myrtle. Despite the fact that he was there often, and she seemed annoyed from time to time, she always answered his questions and provided him with some comfort as he went. </p><p>The infirmary containing any new survivors that might have been recovered on Schaeffer’s disastrous scouting missions had been barred from public knowledge. So any new survivors or knowledge of whether or not they were people of close relation were considered confidential information until they got out of the infirmary itself. Of course, the confidentiality rules never applied to Myrtle’s office, so he often went there.</p><p>She turned on her computer and offered him a tired smile, “What’s the first name on your list today...I’m guessing your father, again?” </p><p>“Tony Green,” Ethan said without hesitation, “Although it may be under Antonio. Antonio Clark Green.” </p><p>Myrtle hummed in response and typed the name down into the computer. </p><p>“Oh, and I just thought of another identifying mark,” he spoke quickly, “He’s got a tattoo on his ankle, it’s my birthday in that number format...so it would be somethin’ like…”</p><p>Growing gracefully impatient Myrtle asked, “What’s your actual birthday?” </p><p>“May eighth, two-thousand,” he repeated calmly, “And the ink for his tattoo was navy blue…”</p><p>Myrtle typed some more things down into the computer, updating the information that  Ethan had already provided her with throughout the past few months. He wished he could crane his neck enough to see what she was typing. </p><p>Almost as if she was already in the rhythm that she’d followed the previous six times he’d visited her, she typed out a few more things before hitting the enter button in a rhythm that he recognized. He anxiously tapped his feet against the floor, hoping that this time would be different from the last six. That maybe he would have answers as to whether or not his father was alive or dead. Any answer was better than none, even if that meant permanently saying goodbye to his dad. </p><p>His dad hadn’t known about his and Lex’s plans to go to California. Even though Tony had loved his son to the ends of the earth he didn’t understand Ethan’s plans to leave Hatchetfield or his desires for something more. To tell Tony that he planned to leave Hatchetfield to begin a new life in California (on the complete opposite side of the country), would be to witness the freakout of the century. Still, Ethan was legally an adult. He couldn’t stay in the nest forever, right? He remembered that Tony had flipped out when Ethan moved into his own apartment, even though it was just a few blocks away from the garage. He knew it was his choice, but Tony just couldn’t let go. </p><p>After Ethan was born and his  mother left them, Tony had put everything into taking care of Ethan, making sure he grew up fed. Even when bills were stretched and Tony sometimes couldn’t cope well enough, he’d never hesitated to make Ethan feel loved. And not just Ethan. It was obvious that Tony had an affinity for children too. This was obvious in the ways that Tony loved to hang out with Hannah and watch her while Ethan and Lex were out on dates. He even gave them both a place to stay on nights when it wasn’t safe for them to return home to a drunken Pamela. Part of him was guilty that he’d decided to leave for California, given that his dad was gonna be all alone, but was it so selfish to pursue dreams? </p><p>He stared down at the floor, trying to distract himself from the agonizing wait of Myrtle pulling up information as to whether or not Tony had been found. </p><p>His father was a good man. An honest man. He didn’t deserve to die. </p><p>“Nothing, Kid,” Myrtle said quickly, making Ethan’s heart sink to his feet. He should have expected this. Nothing had changed over the past few visits, so why would it start now?</p><p>Myrtle offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, Ethan.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” he muttered, thinking of the next name on his list, “What about Emma Perkins?” </p><p>Myrtle typed the name down while Ethan continued to think. Emma, like Tony, had been a regular name he’d asked about. </p><p>While everything insisted that Emma had died, Ethan wasn’t so sure. Emma was a strong bitch, she knew how to hold her own. It didn’t seem right that a cave-in of all things should kill her. Of course, she’d been on the missing person list, instead of confirmed deaths, but that was only because no body had been found. He’d figured he’d ask Myrtle if Emma had been found so he could give Paul closure. It was the least he could do for the man since he and Emma had already done so much for them. </p><p>Emma didn’t deserve the fate she’d seemingly received. </p><p>She’d been trying to retrieve Mr. Houston’s son (Another name on his list) in hopes that she could get him home to his father and then they’d all be together. She didn’t deserve to be crushed and snapped out of the world as everyone thought. Lex and Hannah had been fond of her and Tim. </p><p>“Nope, sorry.” </p><p>His heart sank again, “Tim Houston.” </p><p>The boy was so young, he didn’t deserve to die. </p><p>“No record of him.”</p><p>“John McNamara?” </p><p>Johnny didn’t deserve to leave this world when he’d just started to make an impact on it. Besides, he’d been a much better leader than Schaeffer was being at the moment.</p><p>“There is no updated record on General John McNamara,” she said apologetically. He opened his mouth to offer Xander’s name before she cut him off, “Or his husband, Major Lee.”</p><p>Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at the ground. These people had been extremely important to him and there was no updated record on whether or not they lived or died. </p><p>He supposed it was normal for people in the events of a world-ending cataclysm to receive little to no information on the status of their loved ones, but he couldn’t help but feel impatient and sad in regards to the information he’d received. </p><p>He wanted them all to be alive and happy. Not just for his sake, but the people he knew were still alive and with him. </p><p>Paul walked the halls like he didn’t remember what it was he was supposed to be doing. Though he wore a small smile when he talked to Lex, Ethan, and Hannah, he could see that the loss of Emma and the others weighed heavily on him. He noticeably looked less healthy and more exhausted, like he was slowly dying as a result of the grief. Ethan would do anything to reverse that. </p><p>He’d not even seen Mr. Houston since Tim had supposedly been lost. The last he’d sen Tom was a month before when he was passing by the physical therapy window and even then it was only a brief glimpse of red flannel. Wherever Mr. Houston was, he only hoped that he looked better than Paul. Sense told him otherwise. </p><p>Then there was the matter of Johnny and Xander, who had no family members but had been so impactful on all of their lives. To leave the information regarding whether they lived or died unresolved seemed cruel and unfair. Johnny had taught him so much while they were stuck in the Black and White, even before Paul had joined them. Ethan owed it to him to have his case resolved...not just loose ends. </p><p>Silently, he thanked Myrtle and walked off, his heart was heavy in his chest. </p><p>Life was a lot harder, now, it was true. He tried to be grateful for the fact that he still had Lex and Hannah, and that they were provided for as long as they kept working, but the lack of knowledge surrounding his loved ones left him feeling helpless. He hated feeling helpless. </p><p>He wagered a small glance up at the clock and cursed. </p><p><em> 5:52 </em> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p><p>He started to jog quickly through the hallways, trying to reach the residential sector quickly before the curfew bell rang out. He’d already been caught twice before, outside his apartment during the curfew period. A third ‘offense’ would result in him getting thrown in the brig for two days, which was something he sought to avoid. </p><p>Thankfully, he made it back to his hallway at five fifty-nine, and just managed to throw open his door and enter the apartment, just before the bell rang out. </p><p>He leaned back against the door, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat. The pain of another day with no new leads weighed heavily on him. </p><p>“You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”</p><p>He looked up and smiled at the sight of Lex leaning against the wall, her eyes wearily searching him. </p><p>“Yeah,” he muttered, “Where’s Hannah?” </p><p>She nodded into the living room area, “Watching <em> Cutthroat Kitchen </em>or something like that…” </p><p>Ethan smiled as he recognized the sound of stressed chefs cooking and cursing as they tried to whip up some weird concoction that was probably going to taste like shit, “She’s gonna start Gordon Ramsay-ing us if we’re not careful with these rations.”</p><p>“I’m glad you brought that up, “ Lex smirked at him, “Because it’s your night to cook.” </p><p>He groaned slightly, “Is that because I was late?” </p><p>She nodded, “Yup. That, and the fact that I nearly broke my back moving the drill press earlier so you get to do it.” </p><p>“But it’s not my fault that Myrtle takes fuckin’ forever to type things up,” he playfully whined, not really caring that it was his night to cook. He was a good cook. Somehow he’d learned to make the dry rice and broth that they were delivered every morning taste half-decent. </p><p>Another tug at his heart made itself known as he thought of his dad, who’d taught Ethan how to cook from the time he was young. He tried to stifle the memories of his dad teaching him how to make pizza, cookies, spaghetti (<em> “But where you make your own pasta, Ethan, not the store-bought strings” </em>), tiramisu,  the whole shebang that would make anyone’s grandma jealous. He never knew his grandma (who’d supposedly taught Tony how to cook), but he was sure she’d be proud of all the things that Ethan learned from him. </p><p>Lex’s eyes softened as she recognized his pensive look, “Did you hear anything new?” she asked softly, understanding the meaning behind Ethan’s mention of Myrtle.  </p><p>He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, “All of them are still on the missing list.”</p><p>“Shit,” Lex cursed, “Nothing at all?” </p><p>“Nope,” he said, anger and emotion welling in his chest, “For all I know my old man is dead out there and-”</p><p>A tear rolled down his cheek and he stopped himself from saying anything else. His clenched fists shook by his sides. Lex stepped forward and pulled him into her arms, comforting him and making him feel instantly like he could melt. </p><p>He buried his face in her neck and let the tears fall, the sobs wracking his body as he unleashed all of the frustration and pain that had been building with every visit to Myrtle that he’d returned empty-handed. </p><p>Lex ran a hand through his hair, “It’s okay, you can let it out, Ethan.” </p><p>Though Lex was mostly known as Hatchetfield’s resident rough-around-the-edges, ne’er do well teenage daughter of Pamela Foster, there were moments like this where she would get unbelievably soft. Almost like she could read his emotions at their base value and knew just what he needed to make him feel better. </p><p>He supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was his soulmate, and that he couldn’t have asked for a better person to enter his life at the right time. </p><p>God, he loved her. </p><p>He was so grateful that he wasn’t in the Black and White anymore, having to watch her put up with her mother’s bullshit without anywhere safe to go, watching as Hannah grew up having to be juggled around. He wanted Hannah to feel safe. He wanted both of them to feel safe and happy. </p><p>He knew he certainly felt safe when he was with them.</p><p>He was bonded to them for a reason and he loved them more than anything else in the world. </p><p>So, while everything hurt with the power of not knowing, he could live with the fact that he still had Hannah and Lex. For now, that was enough. The fact that all three of them were alive and well could make him be somewhat satisfied. </p><p>Though he had no knowledge of whether or not the remainder of his family was alive, this was enough. </p><p>It was more than enough. </p><p>Though the pain of not knowing whether his father was alive or dead, he would move onward, taking it one day at a time. </p><p>Because, right now, he was in Lex’s arms. </p><p>And they were safe. </p><p>---</p><p>Tim was happy that new people had been added to their small group. </p><p>Since the day before, when Lucy and Chumby had joined them, he’d been showing them around and equipping them with what was needed while John and Xander went back to work in the tunnels. </p><p>He’d already decided that he liked Miss Lucy, who was pretty and sweet. He also liked the sound of her voice, which seemed to be relaxing and kind with every word she said, kind of like Miss Becky. </p><p>He’d also grown rather attached to Chumby, who seemed to enjoy asking Tim questions and hearing his answers. To be honest, hanging out with the Hatchetfield Ape-man, a person he’d heard ghost stories about his whole life, was the most fun he’d had in the caves since he and Aunt Emma had drawing competitions with small sticks. </p><p>Best of all, they hadn’t judged him for his new scar, something that Xander had called a deep corneal abrasion caused by when he’d been thrown into the tree earlier on in the year. He’d been afraid of it for those first few weeks, worried that nobody would like it, or the fact that he was blind in that eye would make people look down on him, but Emma, John and Xander certainly hadn’t, and now Lucy and Chumby had both said it looked rather cool. He only hoped that when they made it back, his dad would like it. While it wasn’t great being blind in one eye now, he felt like he needed to ignore the fact that one of his eyes looked white now and instead focus on the fact that he could still read and write, and his other eye worked perfectly. It was still difficult for him to open the eye fully, due to some of the scar tissue surrounding the area, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. What mattered, was that he was able to use his other eye perfectly well. </p><p>He led them through the levels of the basement, showing them all of the labs and side rooms where they would be able to grab what they needed to survive. Xander and John had already dragged a mattress down to the central lab area for Lucy, so she could sleep in there with them while Chumby had been given a pile of paper and leaves (which he’d made himself, saying that it was what he wanted). They’d been with them for only a day and Tim was so enthralled at the idea of having new friends. </p><p>It had seemed like forever since he’d made a new friend. He felt a pang in his heart as he thought of his friend, Hannah, with who he’d liked to play Minecraft and other games. He hoped she and her sister were okay. And her sister’s boyfriend, Ethan, too. He seemed nice. His dad liked them. He shoved thoughts of his father away as he opened the door to another lab, pulling on the heavy door with much effort. </p><p>“So, this is lab 4A,” he explained, leading them into a large room that was lined with small boxes of soil, with a string of irrigation equipment running above them, “We think this is where Hidgens might have been conducting botany experiments...whatever that means.”</p><p>“Oh, botany?” Lucy brightened up, smiling politely down at Tim, “Botany is the study of how plants grow and their classifications. </p><p>“Oh,” Tim nodded, not really understanding the word’s true meaning, “So when Aunt Emma said she was a botany student…”</p><p>“She studied plants,” Lucy confirmed, “Was she planning to become a botanist?”</p><p>Tim shook his head, “No, she was planning to start a pot farm.” </p><p>Lucy’s face grew slightly red and her eyes widened, making Tim giggle, ”Oh...that’s interesting.”</p><p>“That’s the response she’d usually get,” Tim laughed, “But it looks like she’s gonna be a scientist no...at least when we get back.” </p><p>He gestured for them to follow him out of the room, pulling the door shut once more as he struggled with it. In the end, Chumby helped him pull it all the way shut with his strong arms. </p><p>Tim gazed up at him in awe, “So cool!” he muttered.</p><p>“And this is lab 3A,” he said as he led them into the sterile white room, “This is where we think Hidgens kept most of his medical equipment, it's also where Xander and Mackie cut off my aunt’s leg..” </p><p>Though he gave the information excitedly, the memory made him shudder. He’d not been allowed in the room when they were doing it, but the scent of blood was something that would forever stay in his mind. He’d been so scared that day. So scared that he’d have to watch her die, much like he’d seen his mother lying dead in the middle of the street. </p><p>In some ways, he blamed himself for the accident. If Emma had not come to get him away from Hidgens, then she wouldn’t have been crushed in the caves. Furthermore, if he hadn’t been kidnapped by the monster, she wouldn’t have had to come and get him. </p><p>He knew it wasn’t his fault that he’d gotten kidnapped, of course, but the fact that Aunt Emma had come for him and ended up getting hurt in the process weighed heavily on his mind. </p><p>Moving out of the lab area, he showed them to the bar area. </p><p>“You’ve already found yourself here,” he cheered, “I heard some of the music you were playing and it sounded beautiful.”</p><p>Lucy blushed, “Well...thank you…”</p><p>Tim nodded excitedly, “My mom used to play a lot too, before she…”</p><p>He swallowed hard, talking about his mother was still extremely hard. It was hard to believe that it had truly only been a year since the car crashed. He’d never forgotten his mother, nor the grief, but for whatever reason, it had been somewhat easier for Tim to move forward in comparison to Tom, who wouldn’t even talk about it. </p><p>Lucy’s eyes softened, “Is Emma your mother’s sister?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Tim nodded, “I didn’t actually meet her until last January, but she’s the coolest.” </p><p>This was true. He hadn’t met Emma until the funeral for his mom and even then, Tom hadn’t let her talk to him all that much. To be honest, he’d not even really gotten to know Emma until after the memories from what he’d assumed were past lives were returned. Suddenly, he’d been reminded of all the great times she and Uncle Paul shared with him when they’d come over. Even though the memories had been from a time he didn’t understand, they were real. </p><p>God, he missed Uncle Paul. </p><p>‘“So,” Lucy inquired, trying to make more conversation, “It’s just you, your aunt, and your day?</p><p>He shook his head, “I have an Uncle too!” </p><p>“Your dad's brother?” Lucy asked, “Or your mothers?” </p><p>“Neither,” Tim shook his head giggling, “But you’re close.”</p><p>“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed after looking deep in thought before her eyes softened, “Is that…” She hesitated on the next few words, almost like she couldn’t think of a good way to say them, “Is that Emma’s husband?” </p><p>Tim’s face fell at the way Lucy had said it. Almost as if she were insinuating that Uncle Paul had died. He shook his head, “No...but he was as good as.”</p><p>“Was?”</p><p>“Well,” Tim started, unsure of how to continue, “I like to hope he’s alive...but since we’ve been stuck down here...I don’t know if anyone really is.”</p><p>He felt a lump rise in his throat and he swallowed it down, “Emma misses him though...she thinks I don’t hear it when she cries at night...her leg hurts a lot and she misses him...so she tries to hide it all.” </p><p>Lucy nodded in understanding, “Strong woman?” </p><p>“The strongest...right after my mom,” Tim nodded, “But Aunt Emma tries so hard to keep how much everything hurts hidden...like she’s afraid it’ll scare me away…”</p><p>“Does it scare you?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>He shook his head, “We weren’t really a family until after mom was gone, but nothing she’s done has ever scared me away...it never did. She and Uncle Paul are the coolest...”</p><p>He looked down, swallowing the lump in his throat again as his small chest tightened, “I miss him...Emma does too…”</p><p>“I’ll bet,” Lucy whispered looking down.</p><p>“Uncle Paul is so cool!” Tim said, looking up and trying to ignore the sadness that was building in his mind as he began to show them around the bedrooms which were pushed on the other side of the basement, “He was a little weird when I first met him, because he and Aunt Emma hadn’t put a label on their relationship, but once I got to know him we played video games and talked about comic books and computers!”</p><p>He sighed, remembering each one of those occasions with happiness that seemed to make all of the sadness melt away. Most of all, however, he remembered Aunt Emma’s smile as she would watch them getting along. She’d called them her favorite nerds for the longest time, always making them laugh. While Paul certainly wasn’t his father, he’d provided a sense of security and friendship in times where Tom couldn’t. And he was happy when he spent time with Emma and Paul. Every visit had some new adventure to it. Some new happiness that he missed. Something that Tom would come home to and laugh at like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. </p><p>Tim really missed that.</p><p>All four of them laughing together.</p><p>Being happy. </p><p>“What about your father?” Lucy asked, “What’s he like?” </p><p>The lump formed again in Tim’s throat and he wiped at his eyes, “He’s...amazing.”</p><p>“Really?” Lucy smiled down at him, her eyes softening as she noticed his sadness, “You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to…”</p><p>“No,” Tim interjected quickly, “I...I want to talk about him…”</p><p>He inhaled and exhaled sharply, “My dad looks kind of like a lumberjack….he likes wearing flannel and not shaving...and just looks like he just stepped off of those paper towel wrappers…”</p><p>He dissolved into tearful giggles at the memory of his mother comparing his father with the Brawny paper towels. Those had been a commonality since before he’d been born, if Tom had told him correctly. </p><p>“And he…” Tim continued, swallowing the cries that were welling up in his throat, “And he can build things...he teachers shop class an’ ...and he taught my friend, Hannah’s big sister how to work stuff...like a band saw...or something I can’t remember right now...and he’s <em> really </em>good at it. One year, he made me a small wooden train for christmas…” </p><p>He trailed off, wiping away at the tears again, trying to hold them all in. Behind him, Chumby placed a heavy hand on his back, “Can cry, Timmo,” he grumbled, his tone sounding like he was trying to comfort as much as he could. </p><p>He shook his head as a shaky sob made its way out, burying his face in his hands. He’d tried so hard to be brave for Aunt Emma all this time. He’d tried to do what his dad had done when his mother had passed and keep it all in to at the very least appear like he could function normally, but there were moment’s where it all hit him. </p><p>He didn’t think they were going to die. He had faith that they would get out of here and see the others again, but the leftover grief from when his mother had passed had taken root in his heart, and the fear that he’d never see his dad again was there. </p><p>Hidgens had given him a horrible lie that his father had died before the attacks on the world above began. He’d said that Tom had died wailing and begging for his life...but John and Xander had quickly negated these claims. His father <em> had </em>been injured, but had survived surgery and was recovering nicely. Though this news had given Tim some relief, the fear that something bad might happen to Tom while he was still away was a painful thought to consider.</p><p>Lucy placed a hand on his shoulder gently, “You know…” she began, looking like she was choosing her words very carefully, “I lost my parents a short while ago...but they were the most fantastic people I knew…” </p><p>He looked up at her, “Really?” </p><p>She nodded, “My mother could play the cello amazingly well...and my father, despite being a duke and economist, was an expert pianist...he could have been a professional.”</p><p>Her eyes were sad as she went on, “Though we might not have always agreed,” she smiled, “I never once doubted that they loved me...and I’m certain that wherever your father is right now, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he loves you...your mother too.”</p><p>Tim sniffed, not sure what to make of this statement. She’d known what it was like to lose parents? </p><p>Without thinking, he buried his face in her stomach as he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. He’d hugged Emma numerous times over the course of them being trapped, but there was something about being wrapped in the arms of a new friend that made him feel some slight comfort that Emma couldn’t quite provide. In some ways, it was nice talking about his father. He’d never wanted to talk about Tom in front of Emma, worried that it would stir up emotions he didn’t want Emma seeing. Yet, somehow he managed to share these with people who might as well have been perfect strangers. </p><p>At first, Lucy had stiffened at Tim’s embrace but shortly melted into it, reminding him almost of the way his mom had hugged him. </p><p>He wiped at his good eye as he broke away, ignoring the scar on his other eye as per usual, and gestured to the other rooms, “Should we continue?”</p><p>Lucy nodded kindly and he led them onward, towards the bedrooms. He held out his hands and took Lucy and Chumby’s hands in each of his, walking between them to show them the newly discovered exciting features of the basement. </p><p>Yeah, he was glad that he had new friends. </p><p>He was excited to introduce them to his Dad and Uncle Paul when they got back. </p><p> </p><p><em> If </em>they got back. </p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: November 30th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Her leg was hurting again. </p><p>She groaned slightly and rolled over on her side, propping herself up and as quietly as she could as not to wake the others. </p><p>The day had been long as Lucy and Chumby had joined John and Xander down in the tunnels, making their progress grow immensely. At this rate, Xander figured, they could count on their time to get out of the tunnels to be an estimated range of one-to-two months instead of three.</p><p>She had to admit that the additional help and new faces had made things slightly less dim, even when the company was a literal ape-man. </p><p>She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that the giant man that was covered in thick black fur was real. The cryptid that she’d been raised on scary stories about was real...and he was sleeping in the same room, his thunderous snores echoing across the cavern. The snores didn’t seem to bother Lucy, who Emma couldn’t decide if she liked or not. She just seemed...<em> too </em>sweet. It was probably the fact that Emma was so rough around the edges that people like that had always left her feeling a little suspicious. The cynical part of her brain was a firm believer that people that sweet were always hiding something, while the very small part of her personality wanted to believe that she legitimately was as nice and kind as she appeared. </p><p>At the very least, Tim seemed to like them both, which could satisfy her for now. </p><p>She winced as she sat up, flinching as she looked down at the offending residual limb. The ugly patchwork of scars staring back at her like they were taunting her. </p><p>When she’d first seen the limb, she’d only been able to see the ugly shades of red, purple, brown, and green that painted her leg in extremely painful bruises. By the logic of her nerves, her leg was still there, but to her eyes, she was left-legless. It was weird to her.</p><p>No. </p><p>Not weird. </p><p>
  <em> Revolting.  </em>
</p><p>She knew that as she stared down at what was left of her leg she was overtaken by an immense wave of pain that manifested itself through her entire body. She bit down hard on her lower lip to the point at which she could taste the iron of blood in her mouth. The metallic taste almost distracted her from the waves of fire that burned through her body, forcing tears from her eyes as if they might quench the flames. </p><p>She fell back against her mattress stifling the pained sobs. </p><p>This was her penance, she figured. </p><p>She’d made too many promises that she couldn’t keep, and now she was paying the price. </p><p>Through her haze of painful thoughts, she managed to form the beginnings of a letter she would never write in her mind. </p><p><em> Dear Paul, </em> she thought through the tears, <em> I’m sorry.  </em></p><p>Almost every night since she’d woken up with one leg and heap of immense pain, she’d gotten in the habit of mentally writing letters to Paul. Letters he would never be able to receive.  Letters filled with words she wished she could tell him, but he would probably never be able to hear.</p><p>The letters were mostly just her ranting to herself, trying to find solace in the feelings and love she had for Paul, wherever he was. Thinking of Paul always did well to distract her from the pain in her leg or just pain in general. It was a good pastime for her. A way for her to think of things she could say to him if she ever got to see him again (God, she hoped she would). She’d usually end her letters with stuff like ‘Love, Emma’ or more recently, ‘I love you, Paul. Forever and always, Emma’ as a means by which she would reach her conclusions. In general, talking to Paul without him </p><p> Everything hurt so much, but she continued to think through the pain. </p><p>
  <em> Paul, things hurt a lot...and it sucks. It hurts more than anything else I’ve ever felt. And it’s not just the leg. It’s the pain of not knowing. The pain of not knowing whether or not you’re on the other side of the wall that took my fucking leg with it. The pain of wanting you here with me. It fucking sucks man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, I want you to be there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I promised you I’d come back...I wanted to keep that promise.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I still do...but it's so hard.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m not gonna give up...but life likes to make a pretty fucking convincing case to let go.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul, I miss everything about you. I miss the smell of your hair. I miss the way you crinkle your nose and eyes when you laugh. I miss your gorgeous fucking eyes. I miss that stupid smug face you get when you make a terrible pun. I miss the way I can fit perfectly under your chin. I miss the signature cowlick that you have in the mornings. I miss rolling over in the mornings and watching you sleep for those final precious fifteen minutes. I miss the way you want about new movies and TV shows. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the way you tap your fists together when you're stressed. I miss that dopey grin.  I miss the way you hold me...because God, Paul, I would really love to be held right now… </em>
</p><p>She stifled a sob as she quickly clapped her hand over her mouth, trying desperately to keep herself from waking anyone up. After a few heaving breaths she continued her letter, trying desperately to keep the sobs of pain at bay. Worriedly, she cast a glance around the cavern, making sure she wasn’t waking anybody up. More tears streamed down her face as she continued her thoughts. </p><p>
  <em> I miss you, Paul. More than anything else, I miss you. I’d give up my other leg right now if it meant that I could see you for only a moment. I feel so stupid for crying as much as I have been but I miss you too much and everything hurts...I try to stop it for Tim’s sake, but sometimes it gets so overwhelming and I can’t feel like I can do this. Tim misses you too, by the way.  </em>
</p><p>She bit down harder on her lip as the pain throbbed in a rhythm that she couldn't identify, making her wish she could scream.</p><p>
  <em> I’ll keep fighting, though. I can’t give up. I hope that wherever you are, you aren't giving up either.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I love you somuch, Paul, and I made so many promises to you before I left on that horrible day and I… </em>
</p><p>She choked on a sob in her throat, hiccuping into the air as her lungs spasmed with it. </p><p>She’d done so much to hurt him through making those promises. If he truly was on the other side of the blockage and felt like she had died, then the grief he would have to be feeling was incomprehensible. She hated the thought that perhaps she’d caused him pain, more cries welling up in her chest as guilt and physical pain crashed over her like relentless waves on the high tide. </p><p>She could think of nothing more to say to him, the guilt taking root in her heart and spreading through her body with every beat of her heart. </p><p>
  <em> Paul, I’m so sorry. </em>
</p><p>Tears ran their hot rivers down her cheeks as exhaustion poured over her suddenly, pulling her into a sleep that she knew would only allow the pain to be relieved for only a moment. </p><p>She unleashed a loud, heaving breath as her silent cries and screams poured from her lungs, making her eyes feel heavier. The pain was raging through her body now, collecting behind her eyes in a cluster headache or migraine that made her jaw feel extremely sore, her teeth chattering. </p><p>She could only finish her letter with another desperate apology to the man she loved as sleep pulled her down into the depths, silencing the world around her. In a second, she was rendered numb, the pain receding to a dull throb as she had unwittingly cried herself to sleep.  </p><p>
  <em> I’m so...so sorry, Paul... </em>
</p><p>---</p><p> Another day passed by, ending just like the way it had before, with Paul shutting down his computer and rubbing at his exhausted eyes. </p><p>He’d had another one of those oddly clear dreams where he’d heard Emma’s voice again. </p><p>This time, it had been an affirmation of love...one that he wished he could still exchange with her every day of their lives. </p><p> <em> “I love you, Paul...forever and always.” </em></p><p>The thought itself that had tormented his brain for the remainder of the evening had been the highlight of his fixations that entire morning. While it was a phrase he’d been somewhat relieved to hear, the disappointment at realizing it hadn’t come from Emma herself, rather a pale imitation of her that his subconscious had conjured for him, made him feel sick. </p><p>As he shut down his computer, he wondered what was happening that prompted these strange dreams. What was it that made his subconscious want to torture him so? He couldn’t think of a valid answer. All he could think of was Emma. </p><p>As he trudged out of his designated work area again, he was stopped by Bill, whose eyes were attempting to look cheerful. </p><p>“Hey, Paul,” he greeted, looking like he’d been trying to find a way to talk to him for a while. With a guilty pang in Paul’s stomach, he hoped he hadn’t accidentally been ignoring his best friend. Sure, things had been tough lately and painful, but he didn’t want to leave Bill behind. With a bitter thought, he admonished himself for doing so. Leave it to him to fuck up what relationships he’d had left. </p><p>He managed a small smile that made his face hurt slightly, “Hey Bill...how are you?” </p><p>“I’m good,” Bill nodded quickly, “I just wanted to make sure that you were good.”</p><p>Well...shit. </p><p>There was no way that Paul could answer that question in a way that would be satisfactory to Bill. Since he’d passed out a few months back, both Bill and Becky had done their best to make sure Paul was at the very least <em> trying </em> to be healthy and sustain his life. But, unfortunately, Paul couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten a full, decent, sustainable meal, and what sleep he’d gotten had been restless as the sound of Emma’s voice tormented him. For a brief moment, he’d felt like he’d been Heathcliffe in <em> Wuthering Heights; </em>a ghost of a lost love calling for him to let her in, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring her back (The book was good, but it had certainly infuriated him when he was in high school- Heathcliffe and Cathy had brought about their own ruin through their selfish pride and jealousy).</p><p>“Um...yeah…” he muttered, trying to sound the <em> least </em>bit convincing, “Yeah...I’m good.”</p><p>“You sure?” Bill raised an eyebrow, not condescendingly, but concerned, “You just seem...really tired.”</p><p>“Well...I am,” he whispered, trying to sound gracious. He knew Bill was trying his best, and he didn’t fault Bill for being a concerned friend, but all he wanted right now was to be alone, “I-uh...I’ve not been sleeping...very well for the past few nights.”</p><p>Understatement of the century. </p><p>While falling asleep had been easy as he always ended the day feeling like a sack of potatoes, he’d woken up several times throughout the night, thinking of Emma or the day everything had gone wrong. Sometimes he’d see her mangled body in the rubble, torn up and bruised, dying and pleading with him for help, but dying just before he could reach her. Sometimes it was Tim, crying as blood dripped from his face. Sometimes he saw the world collapse around him and he was left standing alone. Sometimes he’d see that nightmare that he’d seen months before, the one with the multiple stages, when he saw people he cared about being slaughtered in horrible different ways, whether it was the apotheosis, a murderous version of himself...etcetera.Thankfully, he’d never seen the mutilated version of his mother again, which certainly would not have made the situation any better, so that was a blessing in itself, but everything else was still generally...well….a <em> nightmare </em>.</p><p> So, no.</p><p> He was not getting sleep. </p><p>“Maybe…” Bill hesitated on the words, like he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with Paul, “Maybe you could ask one of the pharmacists to get you some sleeping pills...or even just some Advil PM...maybe that would help?” </p><p>Not willing to argue, Paul just nodded wearily, “Thanks, Bill...I’ll think about it.”</p><p>“No problem,” Bill smiled slightly, “Just...be sure to take care of yourself, please? Okay?” </p><p>Paul didn’t even have the energy to muster up an ‘okay’ in response. Instead, he’d just nodded. </p><p>Seemingly satisfied, Bill walked off, probably headed back to his apartment to meet Alice. Paul turned to take the hallway to gain access back to his apartment when a thought crossed his mind. </p><p>Maybe what he’d needed was to confront the actual site where it supposedly happened.</p><p>The idea of seeing those tunnels again was nauseating, but if it helped minimize the pain of losing Emma...he’d do it. </p><p>He could do it. </p><p>He was brave. </p><p>He was strong...right? </p><p>He could face it. </p><p>Making his decision quickly, unwilling to let himself change his mind, he began to walk off in the direction of the storage closet he and Emma had located all those months ago when they were searching for the real Lex. </p><p>With each step he took as he got closer and closer, he felt more and more nauseous. </p><p>He could do this, though. </p><p>He could handle it. </p><p>It was only a place, right?</p><p>The place where Emma had been taken from him…</p><p>His breath got heavy in his chest as the door came into sight, yellow caution tape lining over the door. Suddenly, fear gripped his heart, making him pivot and nearly collapse against the wall, using his hands to brace against the wall. </p><p>He couldn’t do this. </p><p>
  <em> It hurt so much.  </em>
</p><p>The knowledge that in that tunnel, Emma had supposedly taken her last breath made his veins feel like they were coated in ice, making him shake and sink to his knees. Luckily for him, he was alone in the hallway, his tears rolling silently down his face.  </p><p>He’d known grief was a lingering thing. It was not something you could easily remove and wash away. No, it was like cancer. Just when you thought you were rid of it, it always found a way to come back and bite away at you. </p><p>He hated that he felt like this. Emma wouldn’t have wanted this for him. </p><p>It was true, he wasn’t living a life where he felt alive. It felt like he was only existing. A shell of a person. </p><p>Why was he still here, anyway? </p><p>His mind went back to <em> Wuthering Heights.  </em></p><p>While the book itself was by no means a love story, rather, exploitation of jealousy and abuse that carried into immature adult lives, he could remember a line that had stayed with him since he’d first read it. Sure, it had been for his English coursework, but he couldn’t deny that the Bronte sisters knew how to write (even if the characters themselves were extremely fucked-up).  </p><p>The line had stuck with him, as it was so poignant and infuriating as the life he was living was right now. </p><p>
  <em> “Do not leave me in the abyss where I cannot find you.” </em>
</p><p>It was ironic, he supposed, the fact that he’d been in a literal abyss before and had been able to find her and be with her all the same whilst she was alive. Now, here he was in normal life and she was gone, and he couldn’t find her. </p><p>Well, he had memories of her, but he couldn’t <em> find </em>her. It felt like his soul had been left wandering in a foreign land where he would never find what had been lost. </p><p>He knew he’d gladly trade his life for hers, or do anything to get her back. He’d even submit himself back into the Black and White if it meant that she would be safe again...but he knew with miserable clarity that it was impossible. </p><p>“Hey, Paul.” </p><p>His head snapped up to see Hannah, standing in front of him as he wiped away at his tears. </p><p>He forced a small smile, “Hey, Hannah.”</p><p>She sat down beside him, “Okay?” </p><p>He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he should just use the same lie that he’d used with Bill, or just be truthful. Hannah would know either way. </p><p>“To be honest, Hannah,” he muttered, “Not great.” </p><p>“Ethan’s sad too…” she whispered, “No updates on his dad.”</p><p>His heart broke for the boy. Since they’d been under Schaeffer’s rule, he’d gone several times to the registry desk that few people knew about to ask after any potential updates on his father, the mechanic Tony Green. While Paul hadn’t known the man, he’d known that a whole lot of people recommended his services, and if the rumors were true, Ethan was the spitting image of him. </p><p>“Oh yeah?” he asked, sadness undeniable in his voice, “I’m sorry.” </p><p>She nodded, “He does well though,”</p><p>“Yeah,” he nodded in concurrence, “Yeah he does….he takes great care of you, you know that?” </p><p>“Mm-hmm” she nodded, before looking up at him with a puzzled look in her eyes, “What are you doing down here?” </p><p>He didn’t know what to say. She probably didn’t even need his answer. </p><p>“You tell me,” he whispered to her gently. </p><p>Her eyes softened as she looked up at him with her dark eyes, almost as if she could read his every emotion. She probably could, all things considered. </p><p>“Forcing it won’t work, Paul,” she whispered, her eyes filled with genuine concern, “Takes time.”</p><p>The lump that rose in his throat seemed to stab at his emotions as more tears welled up in his eyes, “It’s not fun, Hannah…” </p><p>“Not supposed to be,” she reasoned, “Okay to take time..” </p><p>He nodded. He knew she was right. She always was, of course. </p><p>“It hurts,” he whispered. </p><p>She raised an eyebrow, “Bad dreams?”</p><p>He nodded, “Vivid, too…”</p><p>They sat there in silence for a moment, contemplating the words, the silence enveloping them whole as the grief that Paul was experiencing and Hannah’s resilience remaining constant. </p><p>Not wanting to talk about the pain for any longer he looked down at her, “What are <em> you </em>doing down here?”</p><p>    She shrugged, “Blocked off. “</p><p>He raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” </p><p>    “Can hear survivors,” she reasoned, “Not outside. Looking for reasons why.”</p><p>He didn’t really know how to respond to that. Hannah understood things far better than the average adult could. Whatever she’d been able to hear or not hear should have been worrisome, though. </p><p>“You’re...oddly calm about this,” he remarked. </p><p>“Not worried,” she nodded, “Shouldn’t be yet.”</p><p>He was just about to ask her what she meant by that, before she stood and held out a hand, “Come on, should be getting back. Almost curfew time.”</p><p>He glanced down at his watch and muttered a small curse, “Already?”</p><p>She nodded, “Stupid rules.”</p><p>He chuckled lightly at the slight rebellion that crossed her face, “You might want to keep the mutiny on the down low, Han. Schaeffer might throw you in the brig. “</p><p>“Let her,” Hannah smiled with mischief in her eyes, “I’ll escape.” </p><p>He laughed genuinely for what might have been the first time in forever, “I’m sure you will.”</p><p>She held out her hand again and helped her stand. He took it as he stood. </p><p>They walked back to their apartments in silence, just able to make it before the curfew bell went off.</p><p>When he entered his apartment, he actually took the time to try and stomach a small portion of the rations that had probably been delivered earlier in the week. Not that the taste of the food mattered, he didn’t really care what the food tasted like anymore. At the very least he was haphazardly making an effort to look like he was trying. To look less like the sickly person Bill had probably looked at every single day. </p><p>As he placed the dishes in the sink, washing and drying them, he decided he was going to shower. He’d showered regularly of course, as he didn’t want to look and smell like a complete disaster, but something about what was happening demanded that he needed to just sit in the shower and think. </p><p>Moments later, as he was sitting under the stream of lukewarm water, letting it run over his bare skin,  his mind wandered to the tunnels. What had he been thinking? There was no way in hell that he could face what had happened that quickly. The anxious feeling returned to his chest the longer he thought about it. </p><p>Emma was gone...there was nothing he could do to change that...but somewhere deep inside his exhausted mind and broken heart, he wanted to scream back at the world that she was still there somewhere. It was illogical, he knew...to believe that the dead could return to him...but he wanted her to be alive so badly</p><p>He felt like he’d failed her. In so many different ways. It had been his job to oversee the mission and make sure that everything had gone smoothly. If he’d just handed the position over to Schaeffer, maybe they would have had a more solid plan...maybe they would have gotten back to base in time. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to take the tunnels and then be crushed. Maybe Tom would still have a sister-in-law and son if he’d been enough. </p><p>Was he enough? </p><p>He didn’t realize that more tears were streaming down his face as the warm water dripped down from his hair onto his face. He didn’t think crying was pathetic or anything, but the fact that he’d been doing it so often made him want to vomit. He was supposed to keep his shit together where others couldn’t. That was what Emma would have wanted...right? </p><p>He didn’t know what Emma would have wanted. </p><p><em> Emma... </em> he thought miserably, <em> I’m so sorry…. </em></p><p>His body shook as sobs continued to work their way out of his mouth, crying for Emma. Crying for the life that they could have had together. Crying for all the time that he’d stupidly wasted just watching the barista over the counter instead of working up the nerve to ask her for her name. Crying for the what-ifs and all the could-have-beens that plagued his mind daily. </p><p>He was just about to turn off the water, when another set of words came to him, shocking him immensely and almost making him topple over on the slick floor. </p><p>“<em> Paul, I’m so sorry...” </em></p><p>He looked around, his eyes wide. </p><p>For a moment, he’d thought he’d imagined it, and then he heard it again...almost as if the owner of the voice was in the room with him. </p><p>
  <em> “I’m so...so sorry, Paul…” </em>
</p><p>It was her voice. That was unmistakable. His mind raced as he stumbled to get out of the shower.</p><p>He had to be imagining things. This couldn’t be happening. He was dreaming. He’d probably fallen asleep at the table and just needed to wake up.  As he hastily dried himself and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, he ran over to the sink and began to splash his face with cold water, hoping the shock of it would wake him up from the dream. When that didn’t work, he wondered if he could throw himself into an ice-cold bathtub like they had in <em> Inception... </em>that would work...wouldn’t it? </p><p>Instead, he eyed an ink pen that was laying on his dresser and picked it up. Without hesitation, he clicked it open and brought it down hard on his forearm, almost like the pinch reflex to check if he was dreaming, only to be met by the logically associated form of pain and a large ink dot on his arm. </p><p>He hissed and dropped the pen, rubbing his forearm to get rid of the pain as his mind raced. </p><p>
  <em> He wasn’t dreaming… </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Can you tell I'm on my classic lit kick again?!?<br/>Also, can you tell I listened to ’If I believed’ from Twisted while writing this?!?</p><p>The line ’Science says you're dead and gone forever, reason says I'm talking to the air. But something in my heart, some secret hidden part, illogically insists that you are there’ has been living rent-free in my brain and giving me Paulkins feelings.</p><p>I love Ethan, but it's his turn for the angst stick. He's going through the motions but at least he's got Lex and Hannah to help him every step of the way.<br/>Protect Tim Houston 2020<br/>Poor Emma.<br/>Poor Paul.<br/>Also, what does Hannah being ’blocked off’ mean for them?</p><p>Please leave comments (with angsty/ meaningful song lyrics-if you want to) or kudos if you would like!!! I appreciate you all for taking the time to read this!!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!!! Please stay safe and healthy, be kind to your fellows, and have an amazing day!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. They’ll Give you Hope Just to Rip it Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>June Schaeffer likes her new job.<br/>Checking in with a jailbird.<br/>Xander and the gang reflect on the chaos of the past few months, teaching Lucy and Chumby a thing or two about them.<br/>Hannah knows something’s wrong.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter title comes from the song ’When Darkness Comes’ by Shelby Merry.</p><p>(I AM STILL ACCEPTING SONG RECOMMENDATIONS FOR CHAPTER TITLES IF YOU HAVE ANY)</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentioned Alcoholism, suicidal idealization</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 1st, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p>General June Schaeffer was growing quite well acquainted with the duties of being in charge of an organization that supposedly didn’t exist. </p><p>She was happy that she’d taken the steps that she’d planned in her pursuit of the position that she’d been deuserving of for so long. While she wasn’t necessarily proud of what she’d done, she knew the title fit her well. Okay, maybe she was a <em> little </em>proud of her actions.</p><p>She stared down at the stack of papers that she had in front of her, updated lists of casualties and new additions to their ranks. Despite the missions that she ordered to venture out into the upside (as she so called it) being unsuccessful, she’d been able to see some updates on the names of people that had joined the heretics worshipping the Beings of the Black and White, the number of the dead and converted rising steadily, and her number of available operatives decreasing with it. </p><p>The footage her operatives had managed to collect before the majority of them found themselves dead was disastrous. What had once appeared as a quaint little town was now decimated, only a few buildings left standing while the others were either completely destroyed or just the skeletons of them remained. The majority of the Witchwood had been destroyed. Square miles of the forest had been flattened, and actually managed to flatten the few ancestral homes that lined the outskirts of the woods- Henry Hidgens’ former home included.</p><p>That news had brought her some gratification. Even if the four people she’d killed to get where she was now hadn’t died, they had no way of leaving. Still, she knew that the tunnel had collapsed and she had been watching to keep a close eye on the tackers in their equipment where they would be when the charges would go off. They were dead. There was nothing to indicate otherwise. </p><p>While evidence of the bodies would have been well enough for her to know that she’d killed them for good, she was fine with the unknown. As long as John McNamara and Xander Lee never walked through those doors again, she was fine. </p><p>She’d stepped into the position of general quite well, she thought. The uniform looked better on her than it had for John. </p><p>John had let too many things happen that were not to be allowed within a military base. What they needed during this time were control and stricture. Both of which, she was willing to provide. </p><p>After she’d realized that the world above them had gone to hell, she knew nobody other than her assigned operatives must go to the upside to determine whether or not they would be able to live normal lives. This had been widely disproved when one of her operatives had an unfortunate encounter with a horde of singing people, their innards torn free from their bodies and dripping blue. This news didn’t necessarily give her any grief, rather, it excited her. Because she was in control and their situation didn’t seem to be ending any time soon, she would be able to earn more and more control over the people under her dominion. </p><p>While the monsters of the Black and White would rule the upside, she would rule the downside, tightening her grip on the survivors as much as she could. </p><p>She put aside the updated reports and turned to another behavioral report. With her new rules and strictures that she implemented, she’d enforced extremely strict curfews and rules regarding the consumption of different substances. This person, in particular,  had many offenses and had been in the brig for the fifth week consecutively. She’d expected more from this person in particular. How could they have been so destroyed that he would have ended up repeatedly in the brig? Well, she was somewhat responsible for that, she knew...but she expected this person, in particular, to be able to pick themselves up. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>BRIG OCCUPANT ANALYSIS </p><p>Repeated Offences</p><p>Case #44675</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Date Report was Originally Filed: 10/27/2018 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Update #: 5 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Weeks in Brig: Subject has spent five weeks in the brig. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Date of Update: 12/01/2018 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Survivor ID: TH045 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Rank (if Applicable): Captain </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Department: Operations </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Reporting Brig Officer: Doug Richardson, Peter Hendrix (former officers for the HFPD) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Offenses:  </em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>Drunk and disorderly (7)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Aggression (2)</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Curfew violation (18) </li>
</ul><p>
  <em>Psychological Evaluation: On their fourth week of being in the brig, the subject has continued to show extreme symptoms of aggression and possible psychosis. Former attempts to wean him of any alcoholic beverages that he’d become dependent upon have failed. At one point, he was placed in the infirmary to have his stomach pumped. Subject is isolated as of right now. However, symptoms of aggression have steadily decreased by this fifth week and a release might be advised within the next few weeks (Dr. Kendra Palmer, Psychologist).</em>
</p><hr/><p>She sighed and set the file aside, checking her clock to see if her next appointment was almost ready. Whilst looking over the surveillance footage as she had several of her closest intelligence agents doing so, she found herself looking at something that made her feel sick and it needed to be addressed. </p><p>She’d made the storage closet on level six a prohibited area, with caution tape and signs that indicated that even going near the place would render severe consequences for whoever violated it. The excuse was that it was a safety hazard, but the truth involved the fact that she couldn't’ allow anyone to stumble across evidence that would allow her guilt to be revealed. </p><p>She hit her intercom button, signaling for her new secretary, Melissa Montgomery, “Is my two o’clock here?” </p><p>“<em> Not yet, Ma’am,” </em> the meek woman answered, “ <em> But I did confirm that he received your summons so he should be here any moment now.”  </em></p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>With that, she turned the Brig report over and placed it on the side of her desk. She could use this during her meeting. If she had to inspire fear to keep people away from the things they weren’t supposed to see, then she would. Not that it would take long for her to rattle her two o’clock. The man was nervous enough as it was. </p><p>She’d not talked to him since the moments before she’d heard the explosion that had rocked his world. It would be nice to catch up...and threaten him all the same. </p><p>She waited, scanning over a few additional reports, grinning at the successes that she had in different departments. She knew that integrating the surviving population of Hatchetfield into the ranks of PEIP had been brilliant. If they wanted to be safe and earn the benefits they needed to survive then they would have to work for it. And of course, productivity for PEIP had never been higher. </p><p>A soft knock sounded at her door and she looked up, “Enter.”</p><p>Melissa peeked her head in, her long dark hair tied up into a neat bun that added to the crispness of her black uniform. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, as if she was trying to avoid her gaze, which filled June with an odd sort of satisfaction. </p><p>“Yes, Melissa?” June prompted, impatient already, “What is it?” </p><p>“Um..ma’am...I mean- <em> General,” </em>she laughed nervously, “Your two o’clock is here.”</p><p>Schaeffer nodded at her, “Send him in.” </p><p>The woman mumbled something under her breath like ‘right away, Ma’am’ before scurrying away from the door. Behind the door, she could hear Melissa murmur a few pleasantries and rolled her eyes. Couldn't people just do as they were told and not bother with the far more boring parts of life? </p><p>After a while, her office door creaked open again and Paul Matthews stepped through, dressed in his grey Information Department uniform. She noted that he looked a great deal more exhausted than he had when she’d seen him last. It was odd for her to look at him now and see a shell of the person he’d once been. This was going to be easy. </p><p>“Sit down, Matthews,” she said, turning over a report that she’d written the night before on his misconduct. </p><p>He obeyed and sat abruptly in the chair opposite her own, looking rather nervous. Perfect. </p><p>She watched with satisfaction as he began to fall into that extremely odd nervous habit of tapping his clenched fists together in a rhythm she didn’t recognize. The man was a nervous wreck, which meant that she had him right where she wanted him.</p><p>“Mr. Matthews,” she greeted him, “Do you know why you’re here?” </p><p>Instead of providing a verbal answer, the man just wearily shook his head. </p><p>She hummed in response. This was going to be interesting. </p><p>“Well, sir,” she began flipping through another file to the screenshots revealing where he’d been that afternoon, walking rather distressed-looking towards the tunnel, “To put it simply, Mr. Matthews, you were caught on the security camera footage walking towards the storage closet on level six.”</p><p>“Which one?” he snarked, despite his voice sounding entirely monotonous, “There are a lot of storage closets on the sixth floor.”</p><p> She let a small but warning chuckle loose at his transgression, “You know which one I mean.”</p><p>He didn't try to deny it, instead, looking down into his lap staring blankly. While he was still tapping his fists together, his eyes looked dead, like he had been used to being caught in a daze. </p><p>She decided it was time for a change of pace when approaching this case. </p><p>She stood and began to pace about the room, “Matthews, are you aware that your late partner’s brother-in-law…”</p><p>“Emma,” Paul whispered, staring furiously at the ground, “She had a name, you can use it.”</p><p>“Of course,” she nodded condescendingly before continuing her pace, “Are you aware of the whereabouts of Tom Houston?” </p><p>He shook his head, “I haven’t seen Tom since…” he trailed off, confirming what Schaeffer already knew; if her surveillance records were right, then they’d not seen each other since the week after the original cave-in, “You know.” </p><p>“I see,” June nodded before taking a seat at her desk chair, “Well, allow me to enlighten you.” </p><p>She picked up the brig report and pushed it in front of Paul, the man eyeing it nervously, “What’s this?” </p><p>“I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this,” Schaeffer spoke calmly, watching the man pick up the file and inspect it carefully, looking through the papers with wide eyes, “But Tom Houston has been in the brig for the past five weeks.”</p><p>“<em> What? </em>” He looked up, his face filled with shock, “Why?!”</p><p>“He’s violated curfew and been caught with several charges of drunk and disorderly,” she relayed almost robotically as Paul frantically flipped through the collection of weekly reports that had characterized Tom’s behavior, “He’s been behind bars since the end of October.”</p><p>“I can see that,” Paul murmured, his eyes distressed, “I thought he was on psychological leave…”</p><p>“He was,” She nodded, “But a few violations here and there warrant strict punishment, Matthews. You understand that, don’t you?” </p><p>He didn’t respond. In his partially dead eyes she could see a form of rebellion, words forming on his tongue that he knew he wouldn’t say. He was smart in that regard. Other’s hadn’t been. </p><p>With a sigh, Paul sat back, “What does this have to do with me?” </p><p>“Well…” she sighed sitting back relaxed in all the ways he wasn’t, “You see...the signs and tape around that storage closet on the sixth floor indicate that it’s a restricted area.” </p><p>Paul didn’t respond, making her sigh. How could he not understand what she was insinuating?</p><p>“Violating a restricted area warrants a response, Paul,” she chided, “It would be a shame if you found yourself serving time in the brig if you were caught again.”</p><p>For whatever reason, the threat did nothing to increase or decrease the fear that was already present in his eyes. </p><p>Suddenly, June came to a shocking realization. </p><p>This was a man who had nothing left to live for. </p><p>When she’d killed Emma, the love of his life and her nephew had been taken from him. She was seeing someone who was suffering the same loss as Tom Houston, but he was experiencing it differently. While he still had friends (as she’d noted from reviewed security footage of him) and people to care for, most notably his cousins, she’d eliminated this man’s will to live. And yet, he was carrying on...why? </p><p>It was true, people carried on despite grief and pain all the same, but there was something different about the way that Matthews was...she just couldn’t put her finger on what. </p><p>“All of this to say, Paul,” she said, settling back in her chair, “I’m letting you go with a warning. If you’re caught approaching the closet with the intentions of entering, it will be two weeks in the brig, do you understand?” </p><p>Reluctantly he nodded, “Are we done here?” </p><p>She didn’t like his tone. In his passive nature, there was defiance, something she wished she could have knocked out of him, but she didn’t care, “Dismissed.”<br/>    He stood and went to the door before hesitating to put his hand on the handle, he turned to face her, “Colonel…”</p><p>“General,” she corrected harshly, trying very hard not to roll her eyes at his mistake and let it go. What did he want now? </p><p>“<em> General </em>,” he amended, “About the tunnel collapse…”</p><p>He bit down on his lip, like the very thought of it was alarming to him, “You’re sure there were no other survivors?”</p><p>She sighed and shook her head with a click of her tongue, “We’ve been over this Matthews...<em> There were no survivors. </em>You may go.”</p><p>He nodded along with her, a kind of question in his eyes like he’d been told a riddle he couldn’t think of the answer to. She narrowed her eyes at him, ushering him to leave as he turned and twisted the handle on the door, walking out with a slow kind of finality.  </p><p>She watched him as he left, the slow trudge away from her open door. She sighed and stood, walking over to close the door as she watched him continue to leave. </p><p>What did she know about Paul Matthews? </p><p>Moving over to her computer she typed in his name to the database she’d already had pulled up to print Tom’s brig reports. After a short moment of loading, a single result popped up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Matthews, Paul Jonathan________________________one (1) result</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hastily, she clicked on it. This had to have been the informational files on their subjects that Xander had made shortly after they’d retrieved them from the Black and White. This would have what answers they needed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>PEIP SUBJECT OF INTEREST</p><p>INFORMATIONAL FILE<br/>FILE #JM10112018</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Last Name: Matthews </em>
</p><p>
  <em> First Name: Paul </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Middle Name: Jonathan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> DOB: 10/11/1987 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eyes: Blue  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hair: Brown </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Height: 6’4  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Spouse/Significant Other: Perkins, Emma J. (See Soulbonds- File #SLB189011 ) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emergency Contacts: Perkins, Emma J., Woodward, Bill C.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Known Associates:  </em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>Perkins, Emma J. (Soulmate and partner)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Woodward, Bill C. (Coworker and best friend)</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Woodward, Alice M. (Goddaughter) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>McNamara, John R. (Friend and superior) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Lee, Xander J. (Friend and superior) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Green, Ethan A. (Friend) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Foster, Hannah N. (Distant cousin and friend) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Foster, Alexandra K. (Distant cousin and friend) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Barnes, Rebecca L. (Friend)</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Houston, Thomas D. (Friend and prospective brother-in-law) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Houston, Timothy J. (Friend and prospective nephew) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Spankoffski, Theodore J. (Coworker) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Davies, Charlotte J. (Coworker) </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Montgomery, Melissa R. (Coworker)</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Llewellyn, Silvia K. (Coworker) </li>
</ul><p> </p><p><em> Identifying Markings:  </em> <em> Small half-moon scar below right ear from a beer bottle (childhood injury), Pins in left arm from an oblique fracture (Adolescent injury), Assortment scars lining lower back and around the shoulder blades from impact against portal machinery (Adult injury-recent).  </em></p><p><em> Known Family:  </em> <em> Warren Terrence Peterson (Father, deceased), Martina Molly Matthews (Mother, deceased), Pamela Karen Foster (Distant cousin, status unknown), Hannah Nicole Foster (Distant cousin), Alexandra Kendall Foster (Distant cousin) </em></p><p><em> Existing Medical Conditions: </em> <em> Childhood diagnosis of Autism (Age 7), Has been treated for chronic depression (Age 28), On medication for anxiety (since Age 20), Familial history of soft tissue sarcoma on the maternal side (See Martina Matthews- death) </em></p><p><em> Psychological Profile:  </em> <em> There are several tendencies exhibited by the subject that indicate domestic abuse at a young age as well as physical evidence (see Identifying markings). Subject has been on medication for both chronic depression as well as anxiety at different stages in life, as well as exhibiting tendencies similar to obsessive-compulsive disorder, which could be attributed to a prior diagnosis of autism during childhood. Subject requires routine and orderliness, as observed in daily life in order to function. Subject doesn’t do well with processing emotions of a large scale and comes off as kind of emotionless to peers, and falls into the habit of tapping clenched fists together as a means by which he can relax, which could also be attributed to the aforementioned.  </em></p><p><em> Level of Education:  </em> <em> Master’s degree in Information Technologies, Bachelor’s degree in computer science </em></p><p><em> Special Skills:  </em> <em> Skilled in IT, Coding, avid reader, fluent in Spanish, skilled with numbers, potentially amazing strategy skills, former chess master </em></p><p><em> Notable Characteristics:  </em> <em> Loyal, kind, gentle, intelligent, inflectional, thoughtful, methodical, humorous (dependent on people in company) </em></p><p><em> Notable Downfalls:  </em> <em> Relies on a schedule and routine, non-flexible, easily flustered, easily stressed, sometimes appears blunt and unemotional, sometimes appears uncaring </em></p><p>
  <em> Detailed Description:  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Subject is a thirty-year-old  (as of 08/11/2018) caucasian male with an above-average height of 6’4 and a rather lanky build. Eye color is a stark shade of light blue with eyes that seem to bulge out of a round face. Brown hair is neatly combed off to the side in regularity, and he seems to carry an air of normalcy, almost as if he were the perfect version of an everyday man. Lanky build often hides a slight muscular ability and strength.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Extra Notes:  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The subject is a descendant of Willabella Muckwab, the infamous Muck Witch of Hatchetfield. Because of this it has been reported and witnessed that the subject seems to have some degree of psychic ability. As in, the ability to hear the thoughts of others. Unlike his younger cousin (See Hannah Foster- File #KNY123091), however, he cannot hear the inner workings of the Black and White. It is also worth noting that both of his confirmed alive cousins have abilities in the Black and White as Alexandra Foster (See Alexandra Foster- File #AGG098716) has the ability of tangibility in the Black and White, and it is possible that his mother (See Martina Matthews- Public Records Database) also possessed abilities of this nature (Updated last on August 27th, 2018 by Lee, Xander J.- Major) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Notable Case History (Updated August 16th, 2018 by McNamara, John R.- General):  </em>
</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em>It has been confirmed that the subject shares a soul bond with longtime partner, Emma Perkins (See Emma Perkins- File #LLA2140003) who he met on July 31st, 2018 (All resets)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Reset No. 1- Apotheosis/ Hatchetfield Catastrophe- Subject was responsible for the attempt to blow up the source of the Being of Conformal Order’s power (See Beings of the Black and White- File #BWC000006).</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Reset No. 2- Black Friday Incident/ Lakeside Mall Massacre- Subject was well-removed from the situation but was shortly wiped out at the scene of the slaughter alongside his partner and family members (See Houston Family- File #CLH457801), and cousins (whom he did not know of at the time) (See Muckwab Family Tree- File #WMM656767)</li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Reset No. 5- Shadow Consumption- Subject’s soul was absorbed into the Black and White following his death involving Henry Hidgens (See Henry Hidgens- File #RMG000871) and a portal to the Black and White. </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Reset No. 6- ???- Subject was erased from existence given the mode of his death in the previous reset and remained as such until August 2nd, 2018 (See August 2nd Portal Incident- File #API080218) when he was infected with what is currently classified as ‘blue shit’ (See Apotheosis- File #APA102920) and went into isolated observation. It was later determined that the sedative that was being used to prevent his infected self from creating any more damage actually accelerated his infection. Once he was weaned of the sedative he woke up shortly after and was given a position in PEIP’s information and intelligence department. He was shortly thereafter reunited with his partner, Miss Perkins. </li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fit for Service with PEIP?: Affirmative  </em>
</p><hr/><p>June sighed and set the file down. While the file didn’t provide much information as to who Paul Matthews was, it did present several problems. </p><p>On one hand, the man was so wrought with grief, he probably didn’t have any idea of what would be carried out on her part to make sure he didn’t cause any problems for her in the future. She couldn’t deny that she’d seen defiance in those sad blue eyes. There was something that was on his mind. She didn’t know what it was, but she would find out. </p><p>While a great deal of his lack of expression (other than when she’d brought up Tom) was likely, in part, due to grief, it didn’t explain what he’d been doing down there. True, she hadn’t necessarily asked him what he was doing down there, but nobody with that much grief associated with that particular location would go down there in their right mind. At least she’d given him the warning. </p><p>She didn’t like him. Nor did she care for Hannah Foster, who’d also been caught going around that area around the same time as Paul was. </p><p>They both had abilities beyond her comprehension and she didn’t like it (Lex too, but the teen hadn’t done anything suspicious over the course of the past few days). </p><p>Paul and Hannah could hear things other people could not. The blood of a witch ran through their veins. They likely knew so much more than she ever would and she hated that fact. </p><p>With a sickening twist in her chest, she realized they could have been conspiring against her and could succeed with what power they held. And if they knew that she was responsible for the deaths of their loved ones...</p><p>She turned to her computer and brought up one of the secret messaging databases that she used to communicate with her operatives. </p><p>Quickly she typed out a message, one that would help her inevitably find out what it was that Paul Matthews was hiding. What it was that would give her an excuse to make him disappear forever. </p><p>
  <em> ‘Put a tail on Paul Matthews. Distanced until advised otherwise. See what he’s up to.’ </em>
</p><p>Hastily she sent it and leaned back in her chair. </p><p>She’d find out what he was up to. </p><p>Then, if she had to, she would make sure nobody got close to defying her again. </p><p>Power or no power, Hannah Foster and Paul Matthews were a threat to her, and she’d keep them neutralized by any means necessary.</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>    They told them that this was a new stage in his psychological leave. Something that would allow for the pain to go away as the alcohol receded from his veins. </p><p><em> Psychological leave, my ass, </em>he thought bitterly as he continued to stare at the white sterile walls that had surrounded him for what felt like forever. </p><p>He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d been thrown in the brig. He’d tried to count the days, but because he no longer had his watch and he most certainly didn’t have any windows to the outside in the small closet-like space, he only knew that time was passing extremely slowly. </p><p>He’d been thrown in there for curfew violations, right? He was pretty sure.</p><p>Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d gotten drunk quite a few times since the world went to shit. </p><p>Regardless, Tom Houston was finished with the world. </p><p>Why they bothered to keep a lowlife such as himself alive, he didn’t know. </p><p>This was the worst punishment anyone could have thought up for him. Leaving him alone in a cell with his thoughts. Thinking about the ways he’d failed. The ways that he’d lost everyone. The way he no longer had a family. </p><p>A car crash caused by his own hands had taken Jane from him. A small cave-in had wiped John and Xander, who’d been his best friends since he couldn’t remember when off the face of the earth, claiming the lives of his sister-in-law and...and his son too. </p><p>In the span of time that he’d spent in the brig, he was reminded of it all. Reminded of the ways he’d let Emma go to her death, leaving Paul behind so she could save his son.  Reminded of the ways that he’d failed Jane by failing to protect the only thing that mattered in the world...<em> their </em>world. Reminded of the ways that he’d failed to fulfill his oath with John and Xander by being nearly killed so carelessly before the real battle had actually begun. Reminded of the ways so many other people were grieving because he was too careless and useless to make anything happen that could have made that horrible day from hell turn out differently. Reminded of the ways that he’d hurt Becky in the process of his guilt. </p><p>All of the sins that built inside his brain as he was left alone in the silence of the brig. The faces of the people he hurt, the people he searched for reasons to blame. The names of all the people and ghosts that he knew that haunted him swirled around in his mind.</p><p>There was one name that he couldn’t even begin to think of. Every time he thought of it he felt like he was sick and couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t escape the name and face. </p><p>He wanted to forget. That’s where the booze came in. He’d tried to find solace in all the ways he’d once been repulsed by. The faces and names haunted his memory and dream like a TV commercial that everyone hated. Being placed in the brig and forced to sober up had certainly not helped that. He hadn’t slept consistently during his time in the brig. Every time he closed his eyes, the impressions of the people he’d lost would appear behind his eyelids, like shadows that followed him around. </p><p>He didn’t have anyone. </p><p>He didn’t have Jane. </p><p>He didn’t have his best friends anymore.</p><p>He didn’t have his sister-in-law.  </p><p>He didn’t have...his son. </p><p> </p><p>Hell, he didn’t even have <em> Becky </em>anymore. </p><p>    And it was all his fault. </p><p> </p><p>    <em> “You’re gonna kill yourself, Tom,” she sniffed, her green eyes filled with tears, “And I won’t be a part of that.”  </em></p><p> <em> He’d been in the infirmary, getting his stomach pumped after a small incident involving alcohol poisoning. As soon as he was done, he was gonna be sent back to the brig, waiting out the endless days before he could go and do it again.  He’d woken up feeling like crap and like he wanted to curl over on his side and forget the world.  </em></p><p> <em> He didn’t know, at the time, what he was doing in the infirmary, nor could he think of how long he’d been in there. The last thing he remembered, he was in the brig before everything had gone all hazy...and then...that was where his memory stopped. He’d woken up to Becky tending to him, looking more exhausted than she ever had before. He wouldn’t comment on this, though, he was too agitated to care.  </em></p><p>
  <em> When she informed him that he’d almost drank himself to death, he’d wondered why they’d bothered to keep him alive.   </em>
</p><p> <em> He must have vocalized this without realizing it because she was sent into a panic, lecturing him about life and trying to convince him to not do anything rash and impulsive.  </em></p><p> <em> She didn’t understand.  </em></p><p> <em> How could she?  </em></p><p>
  <em> She didn’t have children.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She didn’t lose anyone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She could never have understood what the beginning of the end had done to him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t have understood that death was all he had left.  </em>
</p><p> <em> “So?” he snapped in his haze, making her flinch.  </em></p><p> <em> “So…” she reasoned tears filling her eyes as her voice lowered into something that sounded like a furious rant, “So...you can’t do this! You can’t just waste what life you have left! Is that what Tim would have-” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Don’t you say his name!” Tom yelled, sitting up suddenly before falling back with a groan. When he looked back up at her, he saw tears dripping from her eyes, “You couldn’t even begin to understand what I’m feeling! If you knew what I felt you’d feel this way too!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tom, stop-” she whimpered, tears pouring quicker as he continued to yell.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If you felt responsible for someone’s death, you’d know what I’m feeling.!” he raved, “But how could you? You do everything perfectly. You’ve never fucked-up before in your goddamn life, Becky! You’d never hurt a fucking fly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He now wished that he’d stopped before the next few words had tumbled from his furious tongue.  </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> You’ve never lost anyone! Your own husband didn’t bother to stick around for you to lose him! <em> ” </em></p><p>
  <em> He’d regretted the words the moment they’d fallen from his mouth. Becky looked like she’d been slapped. Her eyes went wide and her lips pressed quickly together in a tight line as she shook. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Beck…” he began, regret and guilt suddenly pouring into his veins, making everything feel like the swirling sea of emotion had reached the apex of storms. Each tsunami-like wave crashing over him as he watched her freeze.  He could have sworn he heard thunder as he met Becky’s quiet, tearful gaze.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head and walked out of the room without another word.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Becky, please!” he called after her, remorse and anger at himself cracking his already-pitiful voice, “I’m sorry...Becky, please, come back…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’d thrown him back in the brig the day after that.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t even try to fight back.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So, he’d sat there in silence, for however long he’d been in the brig, He’d not been aggressive or anything...he just wished it would all stop. </p><p>Why did the world have to continue breathing while the ones he loved were not? </p><p>He’d failed as a husband. </p><p>He’d failed as a father. </p><p>He’d failed as a friend. </p><p>He was a failure. </p><p>He’d been unkind to one of the most important people in his life that was still alive and then he’d managed to lose her too. He wouldn’t have blamed Becky if she never wanted to see him again, as much as the idea hurt his heart. Guilt and grief now seemed to be the only languages he could speak as he shoddily attempted to bury the rage. </p><p>The rage would always be there, he knew, but he’d tried desperately to keep it contained. He’d used it to hurt Becky. He’d used it to harm one of the only people he’d had left and she’d left him too.</p><p>Remorse ran through his mind like a mourning cry the longer he sat in the small brig, waiting for a release that would leave him back to his own devices. Remorse screamed through every thought he had. Every breath he took he took while thinking that the air he was using could have been utilized by someone he cared about. Someone who was now gone. Someone like his son. </p><p>He deserved this. </p><p>He deserved the torment he received. </p><p>After all, he’d only done this to himself. </p><p>He’d done everything to deserve the fear and pain that wracked his brain as he stared at the white walls, waiting for the world to continue on so he could continue to work on not breathing. </p><p>When Schaeffer stepped into the position that had once been occupied by John and refused his several requests to try and dig out the tunnel that had collapsed on his son and everyone that was important to him, he’d been pushed over the edge. Part of him just wanted to run out and offer himself to the Beings of the Black and White...or to the universe itself just so he could see his son breathing again. </p><p>The son that he failed. </p><p>The son that he lost. </p><p>The son that had spent his last few hours terrified and alone.</p><p>The son that had been injured just before his life was brought to a miserable end. </p><p>What harm had a boy like his son done to the world to deserve an abrupt and painful end such as that? </p><p>He was innocent. Far more kind and understanding than Tom had ever been. Intelligent too, like his mother. In everything that his son did, he was reminded of the wife he’d already lost...and now he’d lost him too. </p><p>Tears ran down his face as the memories of what seemed like another lifetime raced through his brain. </p><p>Birthdays. Piano-playing. Fun dinners at Pizza Pete’s. Video games. Movie nights. Late-night drives on the backroads. Hikes through the Witchwood. Family pictures. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Trick-or-treating with the boy dressed as a Transformer. Talking about workdays. Laughing at stupid answers while he graded term papers. Watching the boy’s face light up when something excited him, lighting up the room like a lamp. </p><p>All gone. </p><p>All tangible memories of a life they’d once had as a happy family were gone. </p><p>    And Tom was left alone. </p><p>    Waiting for an end that never seemed like it would come. </p><p>---</p><p>    Xander sighed as they exited the tunnel, the dust of today coating them like pain, sticking to his skin and making him feel sweaty. All four of them had worked down in the tunnels today, himself, Lucy, John, and Chumby, which had made their rate of progress increase greatly. As it turned out, having an ape-man of incredible strength helped greatly in the process of making the removal of large boulders and stones that had blocked their paths for the past three months.</p><p>They’d been working hard for all that time. The soreness and stiffness in his muscles had become familiar to him now as they continued to work. He hoped that this new rate gave them the chance of leaving the basement within a month. Chumby could also lift a great deal of the rocks that were their biggest obstacles, which meant that they didn’t have to chisel away at the stones as they worked.  </p><p>They’d called their little operation <em> Operation Eurydice </em>, which had been a subject of argument between Xander and John for the three months that they’d spent in the basement. John believed that Eurydice was an appropriate name since they were getting themselves out of the underworld, in a sense. Xander figured that since they were using the greek myth as an example, then they should have used Orpheus. Emma however, had agreed with John’s logic regarding the name, and Tim, who didn’t understand the reference, thought Eurydice sounded cooler, and therefore Xander had been voted out. When they’d asked Lucy and Chumby about their opinions on the matter, due to Xander being stubborn about his choice of name, Lucy had agreed with Eurydice while Chumby liked Orpheus because it was easier to say. Regardless, the name remained and they were happy to have at the very least picked out a cool code name to refer to the process of digging out the tunnel that had nearly killed them months before. </p><p>    It was still astounding to him that a tunnel that had shown no signs of structural integrity compromise had collapsed in the way that it did. He could barely remember what had happened before the rocks and stones began to pour from the ceiling so that was a dead-end, but if the world above was really being decimated as Lucy and Chumby claimed witness to, wouldn’t the whole tunnel have collapsed on them? Wouldn’t they all be dead?<br/>    He was very glad that none of them were dead, and all that was destroyed was Emma’s leg (despite the inevitable physical challenges that she would face later on in life), and with the addition of the new people, their rate of progression had risen steadily. Besides, he’d found that he enjoyed their company. </p><p>    As they all stumbled out into the cavern Emma looked up from her place in her wheelchair, in the corner they’d designated as the kitchen. It looked like she was making a soup of some kind with the endless supply of broth that Hidgens had apparently kept in the large food storage room. </p><p>She managed a small smile as she looked at them, “I’m attempting to make some chicken noodle soup before what vegetables Hidgens was growing go bad...so go use the showers while you’ve still got the chance.”</p><p>They’d been very lucky that Hidgens had the sense to put showers in his basement, a lot of them too, which had access to a well that they were fairly certain Hidgens might have dug himself. Regardless, it was a blessing that they had showers and had not spent the past three months carrying around the filth of the mission and the months underground with them. </p><p>A few moments later, after a lukewarm shower and a lot of scrubbing, Xander changed into some of the black sweats they’d raided from a closet in one of the bedrooms and retreated back into the main lab where the smell of something like chicken and sodium made his stomach growl. </p><p>Since they’d added Lucy and Chumby to their ranks, they’d had to cut back on portion sizes and meals a day that they ate. They’d been able to fit three small meals into the day when it had just been the four of them, but with Lucy and Chumby, they’d limited it to two meals and made the portions even smaller. Luckily, Chumby and Lucy had already had some of their own food, which added a little bit to their stock, but he knew that it would run out eventually. All they had was their wits and an ability to endure. That was all they had.</p><p>Tim was helping Emma dish out the bowls of soup with a small set of bowls they’d found in the bar area, taking one over to Lucy, who accepted it gratefully. Chumby, all the while, was eating away at something that he couldn’t quite identify, probably since his diet didn’t include half the things they were surviving off of. He’d made quick work of a great deal of the fruits and vegetables before they went bad, however, getting rid of stuff that would likely go to waste if they didn’t get the chance to utilize it beforehand. The only person missing from their party was John. </p><p>Lucy smiled up at him as he sat down next to them. Since she’d joined their party she’d been happily asking questions, desperate to know more about their lives. While this inquisitive nature would have put him off in a certain way, the earnest and genuine way that she asked the questions he could see that she was genuinely curious about the lives that they’d lived. Just the day before, she’d asked Emma about Guatemala, which Tim had brought up at some point. Emma, though taken aback by the woman’s curiosity, had answered each question with grace and ease, which was a relief for Xander to see. In some ways, a little bit of ease was nice to see on Emma’s face. </p><p>Lucy struck him as childlike in a sense. Not in terms of maturity, but rather in wonder and excitement. She was a genuinely sweet and kind girl with a big heart. Even though she was young at twenty-four-years-old, she was intelligent but had a faith in humanity that Xander was fairly certain that he’d not seen in anybody. When she’d recounted the story of her life to them at dinner a few nights before, he’d been intrigued by the fact that such a girl could grow up in a strict high-society that was rank with cynicism, and yet, she managed to maintain bright hopes and dreams, even though people labeled her exploits as the indulgence of fantasies. </p><p>Chumby, surprisingly, wasn’t much different from her. Like Lucy, he too was gentle and kind and perceived the world in a way that seemed to be filled with wonder and excitement. He wasn’t nearly as vicious as he looked, but he was also protective. The day before while they were in the caves, John had dropped a heavy rock that had caused a loud sound to echo through the tunnels. Almost instantly, Chumby had tugged Lucy away from the noise, stiffening up like the sound had instilled a sense of fear in him. Tim seemed to think he was the coolest being ever, looking up at the hulking ape-man like he’d never seen him before. </p><p>Lucy took a sip of her soup before looking up at Xander with an inquisitive look in her eyes, “So, Xander,” she began another question of curiosity clear in her eyes, “How did you and John meet?” </p><p>He smiled and looked down, “We met each other through PEIP...we were all cadets together, me, John, and June Schaeffer.”</p><p>“Was it love at first sight?” she asked excitedly. </p><p>He chuckled lightly at the memory of his younger self, always so bumbling and awkward around John, who he’d found extremely <em> hot </em> in the early two-thousands, especially as he started growing a beard and his hair got longer.</p><p>“For me, it was,” he said, “I’d gotten my Ph.D. at a very young age and had been recruited by PEIP to pay my mom’s medical expenses. I thought he was really cute, but I didn’t think it was the same for him. We were all good friends, especially when Tom Houston…” he stopped looking over at Emma and Tim, who’d gone partially rigid, “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” </p><p>“No, it’s okay, Xander,” Tim smiled sadly, “You can talk about him!”</p><p>Xander wagered a glance at Emma, who merely shrugged, “If Tim’s okay with it, then I’m okay with it.”</p><p>He turned back and looked at Lucy, whose gaze was flittering between Tim and Emma who’d suddenly found an interest in their soups, “Tom Houston- that’s Tim’s dad- joined PEIP. He was the baby of our group...he was my wingman when I finally got the nerve to ask John out, but he beat me to the punch.” </p><p>“Oh,” Lucy nodded, “He asked you out first?” </p><p>“Not just that!” Xander laughed, “He had the exact same date planned; pilfered snacks in the commissary.”</p><p>“You talking about our first date, Xan?” John’s amused voice echoed throughout the cavern. </p><p>Xander shifted around and almost lost his voice at the sight of his husband. </p><p>He must have found some razors and shaving cream, or scissors because his beard (which had been growing obnoxiously out of hand) was trimmed neatly and close to his face, revealing a rugged row of stubble that Xander instantly loved.  </p><p>He smiled up at him and nodded, “Yeah, talking about how telepathic you were when it came to first date ideas.”</p><p>“Yeah,” John nodded fondly, “But, I might have heard of your idea via Tom without realizing that it was your actual idea.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Xander laughed. </p><p>“Have I never told you this?” John looked incredulous. </p><p>“Here we go,” Emma mumbled with a small smile as she sipped away at her soup. </p><p>“Well,” John began sitting forward, “I think you were running a lab or something, but me, June, and Tom were in the commissary for our lunch breaks, shortly after induction.” </p><p>“Okay,” Xander nodded. That would have been common during his intern years. Oftentimes he’d skip lunch so he could get some extra study time in (mostly to impress Dr. Lavernor). </p><p>“Well, we were all talking about what our ideal dates would be,” John muttered, “And then we got to guessing what yours would be since you weren’t there, and since I’d been meaning to ask you out for a long time, I listened closely. Tom was the one who suggested the commissary, and I thought it was brilliant.” </p><p>“Cheap snacks,” Emma chuckled, “How romantic.”</p><p>“Hey!” John laughed, “When you’re on a military base there are only so many things besides making out behind the breakers that you can do that are romantic.” </p><p>“And did you?” Emma challenged, “Make out behind the breakers?”</p><p>John nodded with a fond smile, “First kiss.”</p><p>Tim gagged and shook his head, “Mom and Dad would kiss all the time in front of me...it was gross.”</p><p>“See?” Emma smiled, “Be glad that me and Uncle Paul don’t…” her face fell slightly at the mention of the name, before finishing with a sad smile that was obviously forced, “...be glad we don’t pull gross stuff like that in front of you…”</p><p>“No,” John mused, “He’ll just admit that you guys have a sex life in front of a nine-year-old.” </p><p>Emma sputtered and raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?!” </p><p>“Oh right!!” John exclaimed excitedly, his eyes widening, “You don’t know about that!” </p><p>“I most certainly do not,” Emma said incredulously, “Now you have to tell me!”</p><p>“Well,” John muttered, his eyes filled with mischief that not many people expected from him, “In the second reset that me and Ethan were able to see...also known as the one in which we’d actually gotten stuck in the Black and White, to begin with…”</p><p>“Oh!” Xander held up a hand as he tried to remember which reset he was talking about, “Black Friday...right?” </p><p>John nodded with a small chuckle, “Well, the event in particular when we first started viewing the reset, was you and Paul driving to Tom and Tim’s house so you could babysit him while Tom went to the mall to get Tim a Christmas present. Paul, however, had never met Tim before.”</p><p>“Oh no,” Tim muttered, raising a hand to his face in embarrassment as if he was recalling every embarrassing encounter with Paul, “He was so awkward when I first met him…” </p><p>“Just wait, it gets better,” John laughed, “So, Tim asks him who he is, and he introduces himself as Emma’s boyfriend...but since they were early into their relationship, Emma wasn't too keen on putting labels on the relationship, and she said as much... to which Paul responded...directed at Tim, and I quote verbatim, I shit you not, ‘but we are intimate’.”</p><p>Emma burst out into laughter, her eyes filled with humor that made Xander smile. It was nice to see her laugh after seeing her live in immense pain for so long. </p><p>“Yep,” Emma nodded through her laughs, “That’s Paul…”</p><p>She trailed off and her face fell as she weighed the words, her previous laughter replaced with a sadness and longing. </p><p>Lucy raised her hand, “John...you keep mentioning that you and Ethan were pulled into the Black and White...I don’t understand-”</p><p>“Well, Lucy,” John began, “To put it simply, me and Ethan died.” </p><p>“Oh, dear!” Lucy’s eyes widened as she contemplated the words, “Really?” </p><p>“I’m afraid so,” John nodded. </p><p>“Ethan’s my friend Hannah’s sister’s boyfriend,” Tim clarified, thinking really hard as he ran through the chain of titles that Ethan held, “He died but he got better, you know?”</p><p>  “When we died,” John went on, “We were essentially erased from existence, our souls were close to a tear in the Black and White which meant that we were stuck there, watching life carry on without us.”</p><p>“How long-” Lucy began before John cut her off. </p><p>“Four resets,” John continued, “In the last reset, though, we had a small stroke of luck...well, it didn’t seem like luck...but we had a chance to escape the Black and White.”</p><p>“What was it?” Lucy asked, looking thoroughly engrossed in the story. Sitting beside her, Chumby’s eyes were wide as he listened along with her. </p><p>After a moment, John looked to Emma, who was staring intently at the ground. </p><p>“Emma, if you don’t want me to-”</p><p>“It’s fine,” she murmured, “She might as well know…”</p><p>“Okay, but if you want me to-” John began before Emma cut him off again.</p><p>“Just do it,” she affirmed, looking up with a sad smile, “It’s fine.”</p><p>“Okay,” John sighed, “Emma’s soulbond, Paul Matthews, was unfortunately killed moments before the last reset ended. He’d been pulled into an open portal to the Black and White and died shortly thereafter, joining me and Ethan in the Black and White.”</p><p>“He was terrified, at first,” John went on, “But he adapted well...we could peer into the real world alright enough so he could keep tabs on the people he cared about, but they couldn’t see or hear us. But a few months later, that changed.”</p><p>Xander remembered the car accident. Sherman Young nearly killed Emma before a mysterious invisible source that his sensors had picked up on instantly had saved her.  Back then, it had seemed so baffling to him, now he had knowledge and information that Xander from a few months back wouldn’t have been able to comprehend. </p><p>“There was a car accident,” John went on, “A drunk driver hit a telephone pole that nearly fell and almost crushed Emma, but just for a moment, Paul was able to re-enter this world to push her out of the way before returning to the Black and White.”</p><p>“Really?” Lucy looked entranced, “How was that possible?” </p><p>“We’re still not sure,” John nodded, “But it got the attention of Xander and PEIP and they soon found out that Emma was remembering Paul. Because she was soul-bonded to him, she was remembering things from their past life together, and in turn, the weakness of the fabric of reality was allowing memories of me and Ethan to return subtly as well...eventually, Emma remembered and memories of me and Ethan came back. Shortly after that, Xander, Tom, and Emma managed to use a portal supplied by Henry Hidgens as well as the extraordinary abilities of Hannah and Lex Foster to get us out.” </p><p>“Amazing!” Lucy awed, “That’s incredible...the fact that your bonds were able to stretch across the fabric of reality! I mean...that's marvelous!” </p><p>“The happiness at the success was short-lived, though,” Xander chimed in, remembering how quickly things had gone from happy to horrifying, “Paul was attacked by a Being while he was waiting to be pulled free, he was infected-”</p><p>“Blue slime?” Chumby asked, his dark eyes wide, “Sing and dance?” </p><p>“Well…yes, but...” Xander went on, “He didn’t really get the chance to...Henry Hidgens sedated him and managed to get him isolated, all the while saying that he should have been put down, but we didn’t give up on him.”</p><p>“We couldn’t,” John nodded, looking up at Emma who’d gone deathly silent, “He’s a good man.”</p><p>“We got him back a few days before the world ended,” Xander nodded, “He stepped in to help us with our investigation before everything went to shit.”</p><p>“Eleven days,” John nodded, “Everything seemed like it might be fine before this...we thought we had more time, and we were wrong.”</p><p>It was strange how long ago those eleven days had seemed. Had Emma not survived the cave-in he would have thought that those days had been in another lifetime. Days when John had a command. Days when he’d had labs and scientists that weren’t living in fear of being murdered by forces they couldn’t understand. Days when Tim had been with his father and not having to worry about being stolen from an apartment that had a fire set to it, used as a bargaining chip in a fixed game that they’d inevitably lose. Days when Emma had been happy. </p><p>Everyone was silent for a moment before Tim spoke up. </p><p>“Do you think they’re all okay?” </p><p>The question seemed to stun everyone, silence enveloping them whole. In some ways, the question seemed like one that would be obvious to ask, but there was a deeper meaning behind it. It was a question as to whether or not the people they cared about, the people they <em> hoped </em>were waiting for them on the other side of the blockage, were still alive.  </p><p>The true answer was that they didn’t know. But they couldn’t tell that to a child. </p><p>How could he? </p><p>He couldn’t give Tim that. The uncertainty and pain. The anticipation in the waiting. </p><p>Adults should have been the only ones designated to wait for that. </p><p>Never a child, and certainly not one as young as Tim. </p><p>Tim didn’t deserve this. He deserved to live a normal life doing things that normal kids could do. He deserved to worry only about grades and going into middle school. He deserved to do fun things, like playing video games or getting ice cream, watching movies, and not having a  care in the world about the fate of the world. He deserved to have both his mother and father with him. He deserved to have a fun aunt and uncle who loved him. He deserved to have friends that played with him and treated him nicely like Hannah had. </p><p>The silence of the room was deafening as they all slowly contemplated the painful reality of the question. </p><p>
  <em> What if they didn’t have anybody to go home to?  </em>
</p><p>The thought of all of their loved ones, June, Tom, Becky, Paul, all of the agents that fell under their command. What if they were all gone and they returned to find a decimated base? </p><p>There was no way of knowing, but God, he hoped it wasn’t the case. </p><p>The thought of so many lives extinguished so quickly was terrifying to him. </p><p>In the end, it was Emma who spoke up, her voice in a strained whisper as she stared at the floor, her face pale. </p><p>“I hope so, bud…” she whispered, as she stared into nothingness, “I hope so.”</p><p>---</p><p><em> T </em>he words were new and floated around her so Hannah couldn’t quite grasp them. </p><p>Everything was so loud in the base now, between the cries of injured and wounded (and there were many) in the sealed-off infirmary and the screams of the people outside that still lived (there weren’t many) that were getting mutilated by the forces above, she could barely make any sense of the cacophony that roared inside her head. </p><p>But there was one thing that didn’t make sense to her. </p><p>The tunnel had been blocked-off, silencing Emma, John, Xander, and Tim with it. Sealing away their lives in a way that tore apart Paul and made her scream like she never had before. Even Lex had been able to feel the energies above rip away the lives of people that mattered to them. She could no longer hear the sound of their heartbeats as she could everyone else’s, or the way that they would breathe...which meant that they were gone, right? </p><p>
  <em> So who were the new voices talking to?  </em>
</p><p>She’d first heard the new voices about two days before. One was a light and gentle female voice with a British accent. While Hannah hadn’t been able to hear her quite well, she could tell that she'd found her way into the remains of Hidgens’ cellar. The second voice was deep, slow, and deliberate, and carried with it, an air that made him seem like he wasn’t entirely human. The first one- called Lucy, she learned- had called him Chumby.</p><p>She’d catch little snippets of conversation from the other side of the wall, but something about the way they were speaking didn’t seem like they were talking to one another. Almost like there was another person she couldn’t hear in the conversation.</p><p>But that was supposed to be impossible. She could hear <em> everyone.  </em></p><p>Even when she didn’t want to, she could hear so much that nobody would understand. </p><p>But if there were more people in those tunnels other than Lucy and Chumby in the tunnels, then who was it and why couldn’t she hear them?</p><p>The thought puzzled her as she lay against the pillows of the couch bed, reaching out with her mind to find perhaps even the slightest indication that there was a third person with them. She dug deeper and deeper into the energies of the world, trying to block out the noise that she could in the ways Paul had taught her. He’d thought he was giving her a way to keep calm when things got too loud for her, but what he’d really done was help her hone her focus, allow her to search for things in the dark that nobody else could find. </p><p>As she probed blindly through the energy, trying to find Lucy and Chumby’s voices, she could hear the other sounds slip away as she locked in. </p><p>Their words were slightly muffled like there was a wall between them, making it more difficult to hear but they were talking...and not to each other, it seemed. The pauses between their words were too far spaced out. While the specific words were jumbled and lost, she could hear them responding to something...something that evaded her. </p><p>The door was there...if she could just unlock it and-</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“NOT SUPPOSED TO GO THERE, SEER”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice thundered in her mind, forcing a yelp from her lips as she dove under her blankets to try and hide from Webby’s voice. She tried to stifle a small scream as the sound of her voice built and built inside her ears, like she was surrounded by a thousand speakers playing a loud chord of music that thundered in her skull, rattling her bones. </p><p>It had been months since she’d last heard the Spider being speak to her. </p><p>So why now?</p><p> </p><p>“<b> <em>Careful, little seer,” </em> </b> the Being crooned tauntingly, <b> <em>“Next time I will not be so merciful.”</em> </b> </p><p>“What do you want with me?” she shouted into the empty night as the spider’s voice receded from her brain, “What are you hiding?!” </p><p>She must have shouted very loudly because the next thing she knew, Lex was there in front of her, stroking her hair and wearily looking her in the eyes. Lex’s own green eyes were fraught with worry. </p><p>“Hannah? Are you okay?” she was saying, but Hannah didn’t care, even as Ethan came out and joined her at her bedside, tiredly looking at Hannah as she shook and hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mind was racing as she considered what had happened, managing a small nod to appease Lex and Ethan while she thought. </p><p>Webby was blocking her from hearing whatever was going on in the tunnels.</p><p>But why?</p><p>What was so important to Webby that she had to block off that specific area from Hannah’s reach?</p><p>What was Webby hiding?</p><p>And more importantly, how far would Hannah go to find it?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To quote @AthingcalledR, ”Jesus Christ, June, calm down”<br/>Paul better watch his back.</p><p>It's Tom’s turn for the angst stick.</p><p>Xander’s trying his best to make light of the situation while admiring his husband, okay?!?</p><p>Hannah might be the only one with a brain cell though so Webby better back off.</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!!! I really appreciate you guys reading another really long chapter from me!! Hopefully the next few chapters will be shorter!!! Thanks for bearing with me!!</p><p>THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! Please have an amazing day!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Whispering Secrets of Pain By All of Its Names</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ted goes off in search of alcohol, finds something far more interesting.<br/>Becky faces another hard day in the infirmary.<br/>Paul has a panic attack.<br/>Emma has a bad dream.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song ’Moonlight Kissed’ by Poets of the Fall</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Ted, mention of wounds, AED use, blood, panic attacks, suicidal idealization</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 2nd, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Ted was now completely sure of one thing. </p><p>He hated his life. </p><p>Nothing new or exciting ever happened. Even the thrill of smuggling Charlotte into his area seemed to lose it’s exhilaration.</p><p>Now it was just the same schedule every single day. Wake up at six A.M., get dressed, eat poorly-heated up rations for breakfast, go to work, lunch break at noon, work some more (or avoid it, in his case), leave work as quickly as possible, get some cheap booze from the commissary, attempt to get drunk while heating the remainder of rations, if Charlotte or other seduced person isn’t present, sleep. </p><p>Originally, the idea of living like this had been intriguing to him. The way that he'd seen the post-apocalyptic world play out in movies with shitty budgets indicated that he'd have to do little to no work at all and he would be fine. He’d survive all the same. PEIP, of course, had changed that when they made him work for them and live their meticulously planned lives with standard protocol and extreme consequence.</p><p>He hated the mundanity of it all. There was no excitement to life anymore, nothing that made life seem at the very least interesting.</p><p>He hated that.</p><p>He at the very least wanted a sense of livelihood to this new world they were living in. But between not being able to make fun of Paul because of ‘grief’ and all that shit, as well as the new rules that Schaeffer seemed to be putting into motion with every passing day, fun had become a nonexistent factor in his life. Of course, there was always Bill to make fun of and pick on, but that too had lost its spark as the months had passed. Bill had started to avoid Ted a lot more, limiting the chances to make fun of people to almost none. </p><p>It wasn’t as much fun as one would believe to make fun of total strangers. For the most part, people had the sense to ignore him (which was something that annoyed the hell out of Ted). Rarely, he had the chances to figure out what would annoy them <em> perfectly </em> at that moment. He really had to know which buttons to push before he could make fun of them or find a way to make himself feel better about himself. That was why picking on Paul and Bill was so easy to him. They were so predictable in nature and Bill could get easily offended on several different levels, yhat picking on them became the highlight of his day. It was all that he had to distract him from the mundanity of working at CCRP and flirting with Charlotte to see if he could pull her away from her loveless marriage for long enough to get something out of it himself. </p><p>He’d liked his job at CCRP because he was able to avoid doing actual work for as long as possible and only have fun with playing around. Somehow, after working at CCRP for five years and not getting fired, he figured he could stay there forever until he had enough to retire and support the lifestyle he really wanted. It was simple. </p><p>Life, it seemed, however had other ideas. </p><p>He groaned and rubbed his temples, glancing down at the watch he’d been provided with for the millionth time that day. In addition to extremely long work hours per day and the fact that he was expected to do actual work, he’d decided that he hated this new job. Not that he could change it. After requesting a transfer with a supervisor for something that would at the very least make each day less and less boring, he’d been told that a transfer was impossible and he would remain working in the tech department until he reached the age requirement for retirement, which was somewhere in a person’s mid-seventies as he understood it. He was thirty four right now, which meant that he’d have to be working for hell for another forty-something years. So, lest he decide to offer himself up to the monsters that now walked the earth, he was gonna be stuck working for Big Brother or the union or some shit like that. </p><p>Part of him wanted to start a conspiracy theory that the world above was actually perfectly intact and that Schaeffer was lying to them to keep them under her control, but he was terrified of the woman, and therefore didn’t have the guts to make such a claim. The fact that if you violated curfew three times landed you in the brig for three days was terrifying to him. He’d already gotten two violations of curfew and a written warning. Normally, written warnings didn’t matter to him. Not in high school with tardy slips and detention slips. Not in his adult life with citations and warnings from police officers. But this...this was different. These people somehow managed to be more intimidating than anyone he’d ever encountered in his life. And he’d never been intimidated by anybody. </p><p>So, he begrudgingly sucked up everything that he was given and did his best to still have the fun he used to without getting caught. </p><p>Finally, the alarm rang signaling that the work day was done and he groaned in relief. </p><p>Another day gone by.</p><p>He decided to not stop Bill and make a comment on his shoddy appearance, or see if Bill would get all riled up about Paul’s condition again. Normally, he would stop Bill and make a few offhand comments that would warrant a reaction that made him feel better. Maybe make a comment about how he was a terrible father, all that jazz. Instead, he figured he’d go straight to the commissary and see if there was something cheap he could swindle to take the edge off before he returned back to the curtained-off place he now called his home, trying to avoid the noise and rush of the other people who hadn’t been given an apartment. </p><p>He sighed heavily as the commissary came into sight, just a few steps away was the victory and bliss he needed to forget the storm the world was stuck in. The promise of something like cheap booze gave him some hope and spirit. It prevented him from being boring or dull. </p><p>He entered the small archway leading to the commissary and found that it was mostly empty, which meant that what there was left to claim could be his if he wanted it. Not many people had paper money anymore, aso all they did was trade away what valuables they had left or been allowed to keep to acquire food that hadn’t been dehydrated or consisted mostly of rice. One house key had given him enough to get a single bottle of cheap  off-brand whiskey, which didn’t taste all that great, but it certainly got the job done. He’d given away most of his keys at this point, leaving him with a keychain, and a few other pieces of random shit he could give them and they’d probably be satisfied with. He didn’t know and franky, he didn’t care what they were using the traded goods for, but it seemed laughable to him that people found value in the smallest things that had been used in mundanity. Back then, having something like cufflinks had been a matter of propriety and style, now for some people, it was a matter of survival (depending on how strong their first world problems were).</p><p>He went to the back aisle, where most of the alcohol had been kept, hoping that he would find something he wouldn’t waste within the next evening (depending on just <em> how </em>sorry for himself that he felt) and was shocked to find that the whole aisle was bare. Not a single drop of shitty liquor to be found. </p><p>“Hey!” he shouted at a passing attendant, “What happened to all the booze?” </p><p>The attendant rolled her eyes, probably recognizing him from his previous visits, “ General Schaeffer ordered that all alcoholic beverages be impounded, until further notice,” she shrugged, “Guess she was sick and tired of guys like you coming in and trading stuff like a belt buckle for this only to cause more damage later on.” </p><p>“A belt buckle is what this is worth!” he shot back, “This isn’t the 1920’s! What’s she gonna do, make us go on prohibition now?” </p><p>The attendant only rolled her eyes and went back to work, making Ted mumble a few curses under his breath as he slumped over leaning up against the shelf in a form of overdramatic complaint. </p><p>If this kept up, he was gonna start looking like Paul, even before all this shit had broken loose. He was gonna look like a zombie, dead and wandering the room with no purpose in his mind. The thought was sickening. For one thing, who in their right mind would ever want to look like Paul?  The man was a limp noodle personified. He was boring and seemed like he had no purpose other than to be a background character. Ted, on the other hand, had to have a purpose. He was important. He was the James Bond of their office, a slick womanizer, and he was proud. He wasn’t meant to be a bland Paul, with no significance and livelihood. That was a fate he wouldn’t condemn himself to. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“OH, YoU wANT To bE imPoRtAnT?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He whirled around, “Who said that?”</p><p>The only two people in the commissary were himself and the attendant, and she was well out of his earshot. Also, this voice, this <em> familiar </em> voice, was too... <em> odd </em>to have come from her. </p><p>Hell, maybe he was already drunk, didn’t realize it, and now he was hearing things. He wouldn’t have put it past himself. </p><p>He shook his head, too tired to even care. He was so angry about the alcohol missing that he couldn’t have possibly cared less about the voices inside his-</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck is that? </em>
</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something pushed back agaisnt the wall of the shelve, almost completely hidden, had it not been for the spark of reflective light glinting off of its surface. Curious, Ted reached in and pulled the object, which was made of a cool metal that sent a chill up and down his arms. </p><p>It was a small box, about the size of his hands, made out of some sort of gold-colored material. The sides had a pattern of golden filigree running along the sides, making it look like it was an heirloom of sorts. Whoever had left their heirloom here to pay for booze had been very careless to lose it. This could have easily bought the entire commissary if they wanted.</p><p>Still one man’s apparent trash was Ted’s now. </p><p>He managed to leave the commissary without anyone noticing that he was leaving with an expensive-looking golden box, thinking he’d probably use it to buy some random crap later. He didn’t really care. At least he hadn’t walked out of the commissary completely empty-handed. </p><p>As he returned to the warehouse, Ted Spankoffski had no idea what the object he held in his hand was truly for. At face-value, it resembled an ordinary ornate box, with no purpose other than to be a decoration, but what he was holding was something that would change his life forever. </p><p>He couldn’t even hear the maniacal laughter in the back of his mind as he placed the box under his bed, hiding it from anyone that would have laid eyes on it that would have wanted to take it from him. Or even worse, take it back to the rightful owners. </p><p>No, Ted wouldn’t be separated from that box for a very long time. </p><p>He just didn’t know how long...and he didn’t know the actual implications of it.</p><p>Ted Spankoffski, was indeed, a bastard. </p><p>The box and it’s owner knew this. </p><p>In fact, they had just found their latest prey. </p><p>A box for a bastard, indeed.<br/>---</p><p>Since the world had ended, the infirmary had been in a constant state of uproar. </p><p>Never before had Becky seen the place filled with so many people all the time, especially in a sealed-off area that was not open to the public. </p><p>There weren’t many civilians that were brought into the main infirmary, which she figured was good. Since the world had decided to go to hell, Schaeffer had demanded that the main infirmary be used for PEIP official personnel, not civilians who’d been inducted into PEIP so they could receive benefits. The more substandard offices that outlined the main central infirmary had been designated for civilian emergency care as well as annual physicals which some of the few civilian doctors and nurses who had survived  had been able to perform. Becky, of course, had been assigned to the PEIP personnel, forced to work with people who were sent out on missions they would likely never return from. </p><p>She sighed as she finished working on the report of death for another operative that had been sen tout on one of Schaeffer’s suicide missions. The boy had been one of the three to return with third and fourth degree burns. He was already in immense shock and he’d arrested before they could do anything. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, a fact that broke Becky’s heart. The only indication of his name had been his dog tags, which had been partially melted into his decimated skin.</p><p>As she sealed and signed off on the report she looked around the infirmary and hated the sight she saw. </p><p>It now looked like a war room. In addition to operatives going out on the weekly and dying, she had several PEIP personnel come down with cases of the flu and strep throat, which didn’t help the fact that the civilian population had increased the chances of people getting sick. Unfortunately, the concepts of herd immunity had decided to vacate the premises and leave all of the people to suffer.  </p><p>Before the world had ended, the PEIP infirmary had been orderly, organized, with doctors who looked like they had control over every single situation they were presented with. Not anymore. Dr. Kirk and Dr. Abadi looked like they were overwhelmed at all times, the labs were crowded as blood tests went in and out in a frenzied disaster which made new techs lose track of whose blood belonged to who. Not only that, despite the best efforts of the tech support department, the computer filing system had crashed time after time, making it extremely difficult to keep track of the people going in and going out of the infirmary. The few nurses and doctors who’d previously worked at PEIP were looking like they'd been deprived of sleep for the past few months and the doctors from Hatchetfield looked like they had no idea what was going on or where they needed to be. </p><p>Exhaustedly, she wiped at her forehead, brushing the few strands of red hair that had fallen out of her pony tail free from her face. Her shift would end in about an hour, she figured, and she would be able to collapse on her bed in her apartment and not have to worry about work until she had to repeat it the next day. She’d already taken Advil for the small headache that was building up in her temples, so she’d be able to fall asleep relatively quickly and not wake up until the alarms demanded it. </p><p>Thanks to Schaeffer, the working hours had gotten a whole lot longer, making it difficult for her to keep her eyes open as her body had not yet adjusted completely to the new routine.  </p><p>They no longer had weekends, making the possibility for rest seem like it was so far away and time had no meaning anymore. It was just an endless cycle of working, eating, and sleeping for what precious time she could get. She felt overworked and exhausted, but she kept going. As long as they kept bringing people in need in, she would do what she needed to make sure everyone got effective and efficient care. That being said, the doctors and nurses were also suffering from the prolonged hours. Just the day before, one of the much younger nurses, Rachel Potter collapsed from exhaustion and malnourishment, having to be put in fluids and taking up valuable space in the infirmary.</p><p>Needless to say, things were extremely chaotic in Becky’s life, but at least it was a distraction from her personal life that was now a trainwreck.</p><p>She tried desperately not to think of Tim, who she felt responsible for losing. If she’d been more vigilant in the apartment, whatever it was that looked like Higdens would not have gotten him and he wouldn’t have been down in the tunnels when the cave collapsed. Emma, Xander, and John wouldn't have had to go after them. They would still be alive if she’d at the very least put up a fight. </p><p>Tom wouldn't feel like he was alone</p><p>He wouldn't feel like he was living in grief alone.</p><p>The thought of Tom filled her mouth with a bitter taste as a pang of guilt rose in her chest. He’d been so broken the last she’d seen him. So lost and afraid. The rage that had filled him was something she’d never expected from him. She knew that the words that he’d spoken in anger were words he’d not meant. But the way they’d cut her to her core…</p><p>She once thought that maybe Tom wouldn’t judge her for the primal sin that she’d committed. The sin that would forever haunt her, making her feel like a coward all over again. It wasn’t the fact that she’d committed the act that made her fill with regret, however. It was the regret that she hadn’t committed it sooner. Now, she felt like she couldn’t trust Tom with the knowledge of what she’d done. </p><p>He would see her differently. See her for the murderous, horrific coward that she was. The guilt and memory of it would forever remain and deem her unworthy of forgiveness. Tom certainly wouldn’t ever forgive her. </p><p>He was in the brig, as far as she knew. She didn’t know if he’d been released, but that had been their last meeting. To be honest, she didn’t know whether or not she would be ready to face him for a long time as the harsh words echoed in her ears. </p><p>
  <em> “Your husband didn’t even bother to stick around for you to lose him.” </em>
</p><p>She had lost him. Just not in the way that Tom was under the impression he’d left her. </p><p>Everyone who knew of Becky probably thought she was pathetic. Poor little Becky Barnes who took every blow that her husband gave her laying down. Poor little Becky Barnes who’d be chased up into a tree rather than fighting back for her honor and life. Pathetic Becky Barnes who was blown over with the slight breeze of life.</p><p>She didn’t care what people thought of her if they thought she was pathetic. Let them believe that all they wanted, she just couldn’t bear the thought of Hatchetfield seeing little Becky Barnes for who she really was. </p><p>A murderer. </p><p>A liar. </p><p>Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. </p><p>She swallowed back her guilt and thoughts of Tom as an alarm burst through the infirmary, snapping her to attention. In some ways the alarm had become a lullaby for them in the infirmary, growing into something that everybody was used to, but painfully aware. Right on schedule, they knew that another round of people from Schaeffer’s disastrous missions were being brought in. </p><p>“Alright people,” Dr. Kirk spoke above the noise, “You know what this is, go to your assigned physicians with your usual duties. We’ve got four operatives in critical condition, three in shock, one unconscious. One of them is suffering from a stab wound to the lower abdomen, Dr. Hallmark’s team will take him. One of them is suffering from several lacerations around the abdomen and spine, which will be with Dr. Abadi. The third is probably the worst off, with several burns and lacerations around the abdomen and potential brain damage, it was a miracle that they got him out of there in time. He will be under the care of my team as well with the eventual assistance of Dr. McMurray in surgery. Dr. Tyler’s team will be taking care of the last one, who seems to be suffering from first-degree burns and a broken tibia.”</p><p>Becky nodded in understanding. She and three other nurses were on Dr. Abadi’s team, in which she was assigned with documentation of the patient’s status. She’d gotten on well with the other three nurses, which included Monique Chapel, Ray Ventor, and Pollyanna Martin. The three of them managed to work well with one another, and under Kamaria’s skillful hand and leadership, they’d even managed to save a few soldiers who’d seemed bound for death. Of course, sometimes it was all for not because Schaeffer would make the decision to send them back out once they were well again, which seemed cruel and heartless to them, but she could only bite her tongue at the injustice and ensure that they got the best care they could give. </p><p>She quickly moved to Abadi’s typical workstation, where Dr. Abadi was giving orders. </p><p>“We need to assess the patient for responsiveness,” Kamaria was instructing them quickly and calmly, “They said he was unconscious, so I don’t want to make any assumptions about what it is that we need to do. They said that there were lacerations around the spine and lower abdomen, so we need to see if any damage was done to the patient’s ability to move and determine if we need to operate. Unfortunately, the retrieval team was not very good at giving me an analysis.”</p><p>She sighed and looked up at Becky, “You’ll be writing the reports, as usual?” </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am,” Becky affirmed, moving to the computer and booting it up quickly. </p><p>Just then, the stretcher was carried into the room by a few operatives who were covered in blood themselves. Becky almost didn’t recognize the frazzled form of Ray, who was ushering them into the room, assisting them in the transfer of the mutilated-looking operative, who’d already been stripped of most of his tactical gear. The man’s tattered shirt was covered in blood and with a start, Becky realized that one of the operatives was already putting forceful compressions down on his chest, indicating that the man was in cardiac arrest.</p><p> “What’s his name?” Dr. Abadi demanded of the operatives. </p><p>“Kenneth Mueller,” Ray told her as he pulled an AED to his side, “And he’s been in cardiac arrest for about five minutes since they got here. Me and Davenport here have administered about ten cycles of CPR with no response and no ready access to an AED.”</p><p>Becky typed all the information up, clicking on the name ‘Kenneth T. Mueller’, which automatically filled her records with all the information PEIP had already collected for demographics and data. The man was only twenty-two. Jesus. </p><p> “Martin, set up the AED,” Abadi commanded as she began to cut off the remains of the man’s shirt, “Whoever assessed his condition said he was at risk for spinal damage?” </p><p> ”Yes, ma’am,” one of the operatives- Davenport- nodded, “He was thrown into a damaged fence, we think, hence the lacerations and blood loss.”</p><p>“After the next cycle of CPR is completed, Chapel, take over compressions,” Abdi instructed as she assisted Martin in placing the pads on the unconscious man’s chest, “Has he shown signs of a concussion or other potential brain damage?” </p><p>“There’s been no vomiting or pupil dilation,” Davenport spoke in panting breaths as he stepped back from the patient, allowing Chapel to resume CPR, “And he hasn’t been conscious since he was thrown for us to document any other symptoms.”</p><p>“Okay,” Abadi turned on the AED.</p><p><em> “Analyzing heart rhythm, stand clear of the patient,” </em>the automated voice of the AED prompted. </p><p>“Clear the patient,” Monique spoke clearly and motioned for everyone to step back. </p><p>“<em> Shock advised,” </em> the AED spoke, “ <em> Clear the patient. Charging.”  </em></p><p>“Clear the patient, “Abadi instructed again.</p><p>“<em> Deliver shock.”  </em></p><p>“Clear!” Abadi instructed, and once everyone remained free of the patient, she pressed the button. </p><p>As the shock was delivered, no movement was observed, which was either a very bad thing or a good thing. Becky wasn’t sure. </p><p>They continued shocking Mueller for the next five minutes with no retrieval of a normal rhythm or responses. It was then, much to Becky’s dismay, that Dr. Abadi decided to call it. </p><p>“Time of death,” Kamaria called out tiredly as she glanced down at her watch, “Seventeen fifteen, P.M.”</p><p>Becky said a silent prayer for another man they’d lost as she typed this information into the computer. This was normal now. Watching young men whose lives had barely begun go out and die for the sake of information that would likely do them no good. </p><p>“Which one?” She silently asked Ray, who looked like he’d pass out in the next few moments, his blue eyes wide with a sadness. The broad-shouldered man ran a  hand through his tawny brown hair as he looked down at the dead man. </p><p>“The Spider,” he whispered harrowingly, like it was the worst thing he’d ever say in his life, “Poor boy didn’t even have a chance.”</p><p>“God,” she whispered, not even wanting to know how the few operatives that had remained had been able to retrieve his body to begin with. Few people who encountered any of the Beings hordes directly survived, but if this young man had encountered Webby herself, it was a miracle that they’d managed to bring him back to the base. She turned to face her coworker, annoyance building in her throat,“You’d think Schaeffer would stop sending these operatives out to die when this is commonly the outcome.”</p><p>His eyes widened as he looked down at her, “You can’t say stuff like that!” </p><p>“And why not?” she murmured, “Most of these guys end up dead before they see their twenty fifth...some before they can even legally drink.”</p><p>“Beck,” he said, his eyes wide as he glanced around the room, “They could hear you…”</p><p>“Maybe it needs to be heard,” she challenged, “Maybe they need to-”</p><p>One look at his face and she suddenly understood his meaning. Schaeffer had been so iron-fisted with all of her policies that several people who opposed it found themselves in the brig for weeks on end, facing a life without benefits and not being offered another position in the ranks. If she continued to speak about this, she was not only putting her own position on the line, she was risking Ray, Martin, and Chapel all the same. </p><p>Bitterly, she thought of Nurse Taylor Myles, who’d filed a complaint and found herself in the brig for weeks. When she’d returned she’d mentioned how all there was, were four white walls, a shitty cot, a toilet,  a door, which was pushed away from you as you were locked behind a panel of glass, watching as people would enter and exit, pushing food through a slot and disappearing again, leaving you alone in your thoughts until the next feeding time . With a shiver up her spine, she couldn’t bear to think that Tom was suffering this fate. </p><p>The message was clear; one didn’t simply disagree with June Schaeffer. </p><p>If you did, you would regret it.</p><p>She looked down at the sheet-covered figure of Kenneth Mueller. Another young man who’d lost his life in the fruitless pursuits of something unattainable. </p><p>What was it that Schaeffer was hoping to accomplish by sending all of these teams out?</p><p>Very obviously, they weren’t all that effective, and even if they were, the information would probably be without their understanding since Xander and John were dead, and Schaeffer ignored Hannah Foster’s existence (a fact Becky wasn’t entirely sure of, but would be grateful if it were true). Sending out these operatives seemed like such a senseless sacrifice. How many mothers would lose their sons and daughters before it was understood?</p><p>Would they ever be free?</p><p>If so, how many more would have to die?</p><p>---</p><p>Something wasn’t right, Paul knew. </p><p>After another full day of exhausting and mundane work, he’d all but bolted for the apartment, narrowly avoiding Bill with a guilty tug at his heart. He would talk to Bill tomorrow...maybe. Right now, he didn’t feel safe. All he knew was that he needed to go home. The day had plagued his thoughts with paranoia and sadness, his mind racing past what was familiar as his train of thought overturned in the snowdrift of his grief and guilt. </p><p>He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. </p><p>He’d developed a cluster headache earlier in the day, right behind his left eye and it was sending waves of pain through him as he tried desperately to think, clutching onto what he hoped was sanity. </p><p>He felt shaky and lost, unsure of everything and everyone. Like he had lost his sense of reality. Apprehension and anguish unlike anything he felt before soared through his veins as his chest heaved with frantic breaths. </p><p>Since his surprise meeting with Schaeffer, who had very quickly developed a God complex, he’d felt something was...off.</p><p>It wasn’t just that Schaeffer had seemed a little too eager to claim the role of General, and that her rules seemed a little too iron-clad. It was a matter of the tunnel, and what was happening. </p><p>Why was Schaeffer trying to keep him away from it? </p><p>Why did she not send anyone in to look for the bodies? </p><p>Why did he suddenly not feel safe?</p><p>Why was he hearing Emma’s voice? </p><p>The only answer he could think of was that he wasn’t. </p><p>He wasn’t hearing her voice. All he was hearing was what he wanted. He wanted to hear Emma’s voice so desperately, that he was imagining it...that was it. That had to be it. It was better to come to a conclusion that made sense and had merit rather than indulge foolish hopes and dreams.</p><p>He couldn’t allow himself to hope that it was really her voice that he was hearing. </p><p>That kind of hope would crush him in the end, he knew.</p><p>But...it was so clear...so real. </p><p>Part of him wanted to believe that Schaeffer was the bad guy in the situation. That she had secretly tucked Emma and the others away and out of his reach. Pushing them out of his reach and letting herself reign supreme without them in the way, watching as Paul was shattered beyond imagination, never to find Emma again. Part of him dared to believe that she had done something terrible to them and that they were still out there. That it was his job to find them and he would. That he’d find them again and everything would feel alright again. </p><p>He’d find them, hold Emma again and never let go. She’d look up at him and call him a sappy nerd. But she’d be there. She’d be alive, in his arms, and he’d never let her go again. He’d cry probably, taking her in for all the glory that she had. Savoring her warmth and familiarity as he basked in the fact that he’d never lost her. Her arms would be around him as he held her close, protecting her and letting her know that regardless of whatever happened, he would forever remain with her, forever and always. He’d never take a second of his life with her for granted. She’d be there, alive and well. Then she’d smile and-</p><p>
  <em> No.  </em>
</p><p>His thoughts came to a screeching halt with an agonizing clench in his heart, making tears roll down his cheeks as the reality of it came crashing down upon him...</p><p>He<em> couldn’t </em> think like that. </p><p>Those were dreams that would never come true. Dreams that would only shatter him more and more. Pushing him past the point of recovery. He didn’t think he’d ever recover from losing Emma, but he needed to remember that he had lost her. </p><p>But still...the fantasy of finding her again stayed on his mind all day...making him feel like everything in the world was wrong. </p><p>It was all wrong. </p><p>Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. </p><p>Why was everything so wrong?</p><p>Why couldn’t life ever be simple? Why did happy endings have to only be in works of fiction? Pretty lies presented to children to think that there was something in life worth working towards. A false idealization that perhaps things would turn out okay for them. That they would find love and happiness in the most unlikely places and it would last forever, when in reality, nothing did. </p><p>The real world was harmful and ugly.</p><p>He tried to stifle the rapid breaths and ignore the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest, panic at something he couldn’t quite understand wrapping around him. </p><p>Was he afraid of something? </p><p>Was he just filled with anguish at the fact that he’d never see the love of his life again? </p><p>
  <em> What was he hoping for?  </em>
</p><p>What was worth hoping for in the end? </p><p>There was nothing worth hoping for in his life. Something was wrong in his life and he knew it. It went beyond the fucked-up prospects of having abilities from the Black and White. It went beyond living in an Orwell-esque world. It went beyond having someone you loved more than anything in the world be extinguished from existence in a scream of agony. </p><p>Despite the hot tears rolling down his cheeks and the heaving sobs that were leaving him, he felt like he was numb. Almost as if he’d suddenly lost sight of what emotion really meant. </p><p>He curled into the side of the couch, the cushioning pressing against his face as he tried to stay the tears, to make them all go away. Make everything disappear. </p><p>Everything was wrong.</p><p>Why wouldn’t it go away? </p><p>His mind continued to race as the tears fell, making him curl in on himself as it refused to slow down on him. It refused to stop pouring down on him as the fear of something he couldn’t identify and the all-too familiar pain of losing Emma tormented him. </p><p>Why was she gone? </p><p>Why did she have to die? </p><p>If given the choice he’d trade his life for hers without any doubt. He would endure a thousand deaths if it meant she would only breathe once more. He would do anything he could to get her back and she wasn’t back. </p><p>All that was left was the pain and the fear that he was losing his mind. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> I know you’re probably scared right now.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>He froze, choking on the lump in his throat. </p><p>There it was again, so clear in his mind, torturing him. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> I’m scared too,” </em> her voice went on, “ <em> But when it gets that way we just need to remember to breathe, Paul...just breathe…” </em><br/><br/></p><p>What was this happening? </p><p>Why was he hearing her voice again? </p><p>He wasn’t asleep, but her voice came so clearly to him in a dreamlike state...something that made his mind seem to slow, allowing his breath to follow. The words echoed in his mind. </p><p>“<em> Just breathe…”  </em></p><p>With a muttered cry, he tried desperately to slow his breathing more, trying to take in air with deep gasping gulps, filling his lungs desperately. </p><p>“<em> Just breathe…” </em></p><p>“Emma…” he whispered, his voice breaking as the heaviness of his tears weighed down on his voice, breaking it pathetically. </p><p>“<em> Just breathe…” </em></p><p>He followed the words that reverberated around his mind, soothing him as the memory of her voice helped him catch his breath, his respirations becoming less and less hoarse as his mind and heart slowed . </p><p>That’s all this was, wasn’t it...just a memory? </p><p>He’d had several panic attacks in her presence before. The first couple of times that had happened with her, he’d tried to shoddily hide, fearful of appearing pathetic as he had to several people who he tried to gain approval from. But, much to his surprise, instead of judging him, she’d only pulled him into her arms and instructed him to breathe. Making sure he was never uncomfortable with anything she was doing, trying to see him through the attacks of anxiety that would hit at the weirdest of times. Doing her best to be supportive and calming when his mind did it’s worst. Of course the memories of her comfort and careful instruction would stay with him. </p><p>He was with her ghost, in a way, he supposed. The reminders and imprints that Emma had made on his soul would forever remain on all the broken parts of it. </p><p>He cried himself to sleep that night, the memory of Emma’s voice forever remaining with him, calming him. </p><p>He didn’t know whether it was painful or perfect that he had some way to hold on to her. He didn’t want her to leave him. Even though she was gone, a part of him was desperate to cling on, her memories were so embedded into him that he figured she’d never leave him. He didn’t want the torment of the guilt and the pain, but with each memory he clung onto he knew he was only torturing himself even more. </p><p>Just for this moment, though, basking in the echoes of the comfort and security he’d once felt of her, he would allow himself to be haunted for a little while longer. </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> She was standing on her own two legs in a field of flowers, shades of red, and violet scattered about a canvas of high grass painted gold in the early evening sun, as she basked in the sunlight. The trees around her had not yet changed into the amber and gold shades of autumn, but the chill in the breeze indicated that the colder seasons were well on their way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was barefoot, her feet sinking into the cool and spongy earth as the petals and leaves of the flowers tickled her skin. Casting a glance down, she saw that she was wearing a dress made of cream lace, with a velvet green sash tied around it. It resembled something one would find in a thrift shop, which is why she was instantly so taken with it. It had a kind of vintage charm that she rather liked, while also looking slightly messy and disheveled, almost like herself.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sun was going down, the warm shades of peach and periwinkle painting the sky in beautiful vibrant colors as the orange sun descended over the horizon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was waiting for someone, she knew.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He would be there soon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A bright grin crossed her face as she turned around, smiling widely as she caught sight of a familiar silhouette against the sun. She put a hand in front of her eyes to block out the sun as she bounded for him.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As she approached him, she got a better sight of him. He looked like he had gotten off work, but had taken the time to take off his blazer and tie. The blazer itself was folded over his arms, which had his white sleeves rolled up past the elbows. The tie itself was nowhere to be found. His hair looked slightly disheveled, like he’d spent a large part of his day running his hands through his wonderfully soft brown locks. His blue eyes were bright and happy, matching the wonderful familiar grin that he wore.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She collapsed into him, almost jumping onto him in an ecstatic embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and held her closely, hugging her tightly as they both laughed. Names were whispered into necks and hair as they grappled desperately at one another, never wanting to let go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was nothing but giddy as she took in the feeling of being wrapped in his strong arms, smiling for the whole wide world to see. She felt as though the whole world could have been aflame and she wouldn't have cared. All that mattered at the moment was the fact that they were in one another arms again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> After a moment, he sat her down on the grass and looked at her, his eyes taking in her appearance for all it was, making her blush. He still looked at her like she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered, a happy grin on his lips as he leaned down.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost reflexively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met his lips passionately, revelling in the feeling of his soft lips against her own, giggling into it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She broke away and cupped his face, looking him in the eyes, “I missed you,” she whispered lightly, meeting his lips again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I missed you too,” he whispered, holding her closer and tighter against him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They sat among the flowers, just holding one another and watching as the sun receded into a small sliver against the silhouette of the trees and flowers that surrounded them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I can’t believe it,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss against his shoulder, nestling closer into his neck as she did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He tightened his grip around her softly and hummed lightly in response, his gaze cast fondly down at her, “Can’t believe what, Em?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled lightly and used her free hand to pick absentmindedly at some strands of dry grass, “Just, being here with you...every single moment…It’s like a goddamn dream.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nodded in response staring at the sunset.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She could have cried as he wrapped his arms around her tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head as night began to fall over the valley, the sky painted red and purple now.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you, Paul,” she murmured into his neck, feeling more drowsy and tired as comfort enveloped her whole. His warmth and love making her feel safe and secure.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly he went rigid, a strangled sound leaving his lips. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul?” she whispered, not looking back at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was no response.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sat up and looked over at him, worried suddenly gripping her heart. The sky suddenly seemed to be painted a dark shade of crimson, covering the valley with its maliciousness.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At the center of his white shirt a bloom of dark red began to grow and grow, blood trickling from between his lips. His eyes were wide as he collapsed back with a small pained whimper.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul?!” she screamed, fear suddenly replacing the comfort and peace that they had felt. The poppy red of the field suddenly had turned a dark garnet red, swallowing the serenity that once had been theirs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She threw her hands down on his shirt, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, only to have more blood pour from a wound she couldn’t see.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em…” he murmured, life fading from his eyes, making her heart shatter, “Em, it hurts…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know,” she frantically spoke, fighting against the tears of panic that were welling in her eyes, “I know, Paul, I know...just hold on for me...okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em...M’ not…” he whispered, being interrupted by a bout of raspy coughs which resembled a death rattle, more blood pouring out from between his lips, “I’m not gonna make it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” she cried, tears pouring down her face now, “No, don’t- Don’t say that...It’s gonna be okay...okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why-” he coughed, lurching up like a fish out of water. She unleashed a sob and clutched his face gently, pulling his torso into her lap, trying to comfort him and hold her hand to the wound, her hands painted in his blood.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was barely able to make out his next few words, but they made her freeze.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Why did you leave me?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Wh-” she froze, looking down just in time to see the life leave his eyes, “What…?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t respond, his eyes falling shut as he went limp in her arms, a final pained exhale leaving his lips.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “P-Paul?” she whimpered, her heart throbbing in agony against her ribs, “Paul...baby?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her breath became heavy as she desperately shook his limp form, trying to get something- anything- from him...but to no avail.  </em>
</p><p><em> “N-No…” she whispered, clutching him tightly against her, a pained scream leaving her, “ </em>NO!”</p><p>
  <em> “Please…” she whispered into his soft hair, stroking it gently, doing anything she could to make him feel her. To let him know that she was there, that it was okay.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> An agonized scream left her as she held him close, desperately trying to bring him back to her. Trying to do anything that would bring back the peace and safety that they’d felt before.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But she couldn’t, because he was dead. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Paul!” </p><p>She sat up in bed as if pulled by a string, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise as tears poured from her eyes. Her heart was beating wildly against her chest, her leg sore and aching. </p><p>Through blurred vision, she glanced around and saw that her small outburst had not woken anybody up, thank God. </p><p>It wasn’t the first nightmare she’d had like that. Usually, it followed the same script with the same significant plot points, each one more devastating than the last. Every single time, however, Paul would end up dead in her arms, leaving her devastated with only one message in her mind. </p><p>
  <em> “Why did you leave me?”  </em>
</p><p>Every time she heard it, she was left feeling more guilty than the last. The pain and fear of having left Paul filing her completely in an overwhelming, drowning force. </p><p>She fell back against her pillow as the same doubts poured from her with every silent tear. She caught her breath as she thought, careful not to wake Tim or the others. </p><p>Did Paul feel like she had abandoned him? </p><p>Wherever he was in the world was he angry with her for choosing to save Tim’s life above staying with him? </p><p>Sure, it was her choice and she would never regret it for the world, but leaving Paul to do it had hurt unbelievably. </p><p>Was he in pain every time he thought of her? </p><p>Did he truly think her dead? </p><p>Was he even alive, wherever he was?</p><p>With each passing thought, she was filled with an agony that made the tears fall faster, making her chest heavy and a lump stab at both her throat and her heart.</p><p><em> Dear Paul, </em> she began quickly in her mind, through the tears and the familiar pain, <em> I’m so sorry. </em></p><p>That seemed to be the common beginning for her letters, nowadays. As the dreams became all the more common, she was filled to the brim with a kind of remorse that no amount of apologies would ever be able to remedy. Still, she offered them. </p><p>A sob caught in her throat as she thought up the next few sentences of her letter. </p><p>
  <em> When I made the choice to leave and go find Tim, you supported me and were willing to do anything to help me get him back. While I could never regret the choice I made, I feel so afraid and in pain. I worry that when the caverns took me away from you, I worry that I left you alone...feeling alone, I mean. I know you’re more than perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but the idea of you being dead is enough to shatter me...so I cannot imagine what the thought of me being dead is doing to you...and I am so sorry for that.  </em>
</p><p>She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, allowing for more tears to fall. Her heart was still hammering in her chest and her breaths were shaky, unbalanced. Her head started to throb as more tears fell, the pressure growing unbearable inside her head. Her leg decided to offer up its own protest, despite her general lack of movement for the day and began to throb in a painful rhythm with her head, making her cry harder, her breathing resembling gasping more than healthy respiration. </p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry for a lot of things, Paul...but above all else, I cannot forgive myself for leaving you behind.  </em>
</p><p>At those words, the sobs began to be quick, making her hyperventilate as she opened her eyes to stare at the cavern ceiling, the dust-coated walls looking like they were caving in on her.</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry for leaving you behind in an unforgiving world that I swore to you that we would walk through together. I know that I needed you to walk through this world, because being without you fucking sucks, man...I miss you so much and I wish that we were together...but all I can offer you is this. I know you’re probably scared right now...I’m scared too, but when it gets like that we just need to remember to breathe, Paul...just breathe… </em>
</p><p>She began to cough as she choked on her sobs, trying to follow her own advice desperately. She tried to stifle them, trying hard not to wake anyone up, but they only grew more and more desperate as her tears flowed down her cheeks. </p><p>Just as the coughs stopped, she heard a small voice whisper, “Aunt Emma?” </p><p>She woke Tim up.</p><p>Shit. </p><p>She wiped frantically at her eyes and looked over at the concerned-looking boy. His hair twisted up in a mess that made her cringe, his dark eyes wide as he regarded her. </p><p>“You okay?” he whispered.</p><p>She forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah, yeah buddy I’m fine...it’s okay...go back to sleep.” </p><p>The boy didn’t seem so sure, but he nodded, laying down on his pallet before freezing and looking back at her, his lower lip wobbling. </p><p>“Can...Can I…” he hesitated, his own eyes filling up with tears, “Can I hug you?” </p><p>She was taken aback by the question initially, but she would never refuse him. She held out her arms and nodded reassuringly. </p><p>Quickly and desperately, Tim rushed forward, throwing himself into her and trying to be mindful of her leg. His face was buried into her shoulder as he clutched at her, muffled sobs pouring into her shirt. She tightened her grip on the little boy gently, “Oh...Tim…”</p><p>“I’m sorry…” he muttered through his tears, “I just…miss dad”</p><p>“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she assured him, rocking him slightly “Y-You can always talk to me, you know…?”</p><p>He nodded again, holding her tighter, his tears slowly receding as his small body shook like a leaf in her grasp. </p><p>He eventually fell asleep like that, beside her, holding onto her like she was his lifeline She brushed some of the messy hair from the boy’s face as his soft breaths turned into even snores.</p><p>She knew the little boy was dealing with so much, between his half-blindness and having to survive in such an unfamiliar situation, she knew that he was trying so hard to keep a strong face on. She was partially glad that they hadn’t said much in the moments she just hugged and rocked him, providing as much comfort as she could. </p><p>What would she say to console the little boy? </p><p>Jane would know...</p><p>With another painful tug at her heart she realized that Paul would know. </p><p> As she lay there, still and quiet, holding her sleeping nephew close, she let the silent tears fall as she finished her letter.</p><p><em> I want you to know, Paul… that I love you….so much...and I </em> will <em> get back home to you.  </em></p><p>She stopped herself from promising things, she’d made too many of those. If she kept this up, she would soon run out of apologies to give. </p><p><em> Forever and always yours, </em> she finished, more tears falling down her face, <em> Emma... </em>  </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...emotions happened while writing this one...</p><p>Uh oh, Teddy Bear.</p><p>OHMYGODITSBECKYBARNES</p><p>Paul needs a hug...I cried while writing that part, if I'm honest.</p><p>Emma also needs some Paul hugs, but at least she gave Tim some comfort!!</p><p>Not that it matters...but the PEIP nurses and personnel mentioned are played by...<br/>Joe Walker-Nurse Ray Ventor<br/>Lauren Walker- Nurse Monique Chapel<br/>Mary Kate Wiles- Nurse Pollyanna Martin<br/>Gabe Greenspan- Operative David Davenport<br/>Nick Lang- Dr. Jerry Hallmark<br/>Rachael Soglin- Dr. Phillipa Kirk<br/>Ashley Clements- Dr. Clementine McMurray<br/>Corey Lubowich-Dr. Arnold Taylor<br/>Devin Lytle- Nurse Taylor Myles<br/>Britney Coleman- Nurse Taylor Myles<br/>Denise Donovan- Nurse Rachel Potter</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like to let me know what you think of this chapter!!!! I appreciate you guys all the same if you don't though, so no pressure!!!!</p><p>THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! Please take care of yourself and have an amazing day!!!!</p><p> </p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Afraid to Open up the Door to Who I Was Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lex tries to talk some sense into an old friend.<br/>Bill tries to take some sense into Paul.<br/>John and Xander find something noteworthy.<br/>Emma has a strange dream.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one is from the song ’Of These Chains’ by Red. </p><p>That being said...I AM STILL TAKING SONG RECOMMENDATIONS! If you have any, please leave them in the comments!!!</p><p>Also, the song lyrics later on in the chapter come from the song ’Man of the Hour’ by Pearl Jam</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 3rd, 2018</p><p>End Days </p><p> </p><p>Lex wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish from this visit. </p><p>Since she’d heard about this from Paul, she knew it was a trip that she needed to make. </p><p>Something needed to be done. </p><p>Five weeks in isolation...damn. </p><p>Lex wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. </p><p>The idea of it made her feel sick. Still, she knew that it was by choice of the person she would be visiting, and hopefully, she would be able to change his mind. Hopefully, she could help him realize that perhaps there was something in this fucked-up world worth living for, after all. </p><p>She knew Mr. Houston was destroyed after the cave-in. She couldn’t blame him. The guy had lost everyone in his life. He lost his wife almost a year before, and now his son and sister-in-law were gone as well. In class, he’d never talked much about his family, but Lex was fairly certain he never mentioned any other close relatives other than his wife and son. Of course, losing them would have shattered the man. </p><p>A shiver ran up her spine the more she thought about it. </p><p>If she lost Hannah and Ethan, she knew her world would have been destroyed. </p><p>They’d been lucky. Luckier than most. </p><p>She’d already lost Ethan in a past lifetime. How she’d existed without any inclination as to who he was or where he’d been all her life, she’d never know. She still had nightmares about him being alone in the darkness...that chill of the Black and White haunting all her dreams. Sometimes she dreamed that he and Hannah were trapped in the Black and White and she was powerless to free them. Powerless to do anything but watch their suffering. </p><p>She hated that feeling. </p><p>Being powerless. </p><p>She’d been extremely lucky to hold onto them while everyone around her had lost someone. Paul had lost Emma, Alice had lost her mom (as far as they knew), Ethan still had no information on his dad, she and Hannah had lost their mom (which they weren’t <em> entirely </em> torn up about, but she was still their mother), and Tom had lost everyone. </p><p>Lex didn’t know what she planned to say to him, but at the very least she wanted to try…</p><p>She could maybe remind him of what they still had. Why they were all still here. Why they all had a life left to live that was worth living. Sure, the world sucked as of right now, but the world was still breathing, as Hannah had once put it, so why shouldn’t they?</p><p>The people around her walked around like they were the dead walking the earth. Even Paul, who’d been as supportive as he could be, despite his problems and grief, walked around with a constant look of emptiness in his eyes. </p><p>Lex hated that the loss was doing this to them. </p><p>They’d been something of a little family before all of this. Hannah, Ethan, Emma, Paul, Tom, Tim, Becky, Xander, John, and Lex. They’d given her a sense of security and love and life that she’d never felt with anyone else before. They were all dependent upon each other, and made sure that they would do all that they could to survive the coming end...and yet, the end had taken four people away from them, ripping them apart in several different ways.</p><p> John and Xander, the cool gay uncles who probably had the most control over any situation were gone, leaving PEIP in the hands of the neighbor who’d once seemed chill but proved herself to be a dictator. Tim, who’d been a genuine <em> friend </em>to Hannah had been taken, leaving Tom shattered and pushing everyone (including Becky) away. Everyone, it seemed, felt the loss of Tim, however. Nothing seemed right after he’d been taken, and they’d never gotten him back to remedy it. In addition, Emma, who’d been like a mom friend/wine aunt to her and Hannah had also been taken, leaving Paul broken and wandering the halls like a fucking ghost or something. </p><p>Forty percent of their little family was dead...if she’d done the math right, leaving the other sixty to pick up all the broken pieces.</p><p>To make matters worse, every single day it seemed like death itself would walk the halls. The infirmary was close to the mechanical bay, and oftentimes she would see orderlies bringing down several black body bags, transferring them to the morgue where faceless and nameless people were brought to their deaths. Sometimes she wondered if those people had anyone left to mourn them, or if they were going to see their loved ones again once they left this world. </p><p>Ethan was trying so hard to find information about where their lost loved ones were, even though it was highly likely that they were all dead. Paul was trying his best, she could tell, to be there for them, in spite of the grief that very obviously weighed down on his shoulders like a bag of cement. Hannah didn’t say much to anyone, with the exception of a few short conversations with Paul, Ethan, and herself. Rather than seeming upset though, she looked...<em> thoughtful </em> like she wanted to figure something out and she just couldn’t. Mr. Houston however…</p><p>Ending up in the brig? That was just...wrong </p><p>When Paul had told her she hadn’t believed it. She thought he’d been fed wrong information, but when he told her the details that surrounded it...and the look of fucking satisfaction on Schaeffer’s face when she’d told Paul about it, she couldn’t bear it. </p><p>The fact that Schaeffer was low-key threatening Paul was cause for worry in the back of her mind, but she would face that later, all that she had right now was the fact that Mr. Houston was punishing himself for something he had no control over and she wouldn’t let him. </p><p>She came to the brig and was met by the sight of Agent Rodney standing at the door, looking tired and weary as she approached. </p><p>“Hey, Lex,” he greeted tiredly, “What can I do for you?” </p><p>“I need to see Mr. Houston,” she said calmly, looking him dead in the eyes. </p><p>He sighed and looked down, “Lex…”</p><p>“Just for ten minutes, Rodney!” she pleaded with him, “I just need to talk to him.”</p><p>“I can’t do that, you know the rules,” he looked guilty about the words, “Schaeffer has him under isolation rules until he’s ready for release.”</p><p>“That’s bullshit!” she whisper-shouted, “Does Schaeffer honestly think he’s gonna get better if they let him rot in there? Face it, Rodney, the woman’s a-”</p><p>“Watch your mouth, Lex,” he hissed nervously, looking from side to side, “You never know what they’re listening to…”</p><p>She slowed as she met his gaze, “How tight of a leash do they have you on?” </p><p>He didn’t answer and just stared at the ground making Lex curse internally. When Schaeffer had risen to power, Rodney had been one of the few people to oppose her and ask that they at the very least search for proof that Xander and John were dead. His loyalty to John and Xander was one that had gone back many years, and even though he was rather young for a PEIP agent (before some of the younger adult survivors had been made into operatives for Schaeffer’s suicide missions, that is) he’d been insistent that typical protocol be followed in the event of a leader’s death. He’d been the one to petition for the removal of the wreckage in the tunnel and try their best to find whatever was left of John, Xander, Tim, and Emma. His efforts, however, had been shot down and he’d been demoted for opposing Schaeffer, moved to basic guard duty instead of operations and technologies, where his true talent lay. </p><p>“Paul already tried, Lex,” he sighed, “I had to turn him down, I’ve got to do the same to you as well…”</p><p>“He’s practically killing himself in there, Rodney!” she tried to keep her voice down, “If we let him continue to do this, he might be driven to that!”</p><p>“I can’t violate the rules, Lex,” Rodney looked down guiltily, “I’m sorry…”</p><p>“No you’re not,” she shook her head, raising her voice slightly, “The man has lost everything and you’re just gonna let him follow all the people we’ve lost? You’re just gonna let him die?”  </p><p>“You know it’s not like that!” he said defensively, “Schaeffer will-”</p><p>“<em> Fuck Schaeffer,” </em>Lex whispered as she stared at him, “You really want the death of another prominent PEIP figure on her hands?”</p><p>“What happened to John and Xander wasn’t-”</p><p>“It’s as good as!” Lex whispered, “She didn’t do jack<em> shit </em> to recover their bodies...so all there is, now, is just the bones of John, Xander, Emma and a fucking <em> child </em> underneath all of those rocks because June Schaeffer didn’t put in any fucking effort to save them...what does that tell you about her leadership.”</p><p>“Lex…” he whispered, his eyes widening, “Stop. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”</p><p>“So be it,” she snapped, “Just let me see him...don’t let her win...please…”</p><p>He said nothing, staring off at the side as if deep in thought. Like he was in a one-sided argument with a higher power that he was losing. Normally, she would have found his expression to be hilarious, but there were far more pressing matters at hand that couldn’t be ignored. </p><p>“Rodney,” she whispered, “Ten minutes...please…”</p><p>He inhaled and exhaled sharply before meeting her eyes. She could see that he wanted so badly to agree with her. </p><p>Finally, he spoke, “You have five, go…”</p><p>He opened the door and ushered her in quickly. </p><p>“Thank you so much, Rodney,” she smiled before bolting into the room before coming to an abrupt stop.</p><p>The conditions in the brig were appalling. </p><p>The walls looked like they might have once been a crisp shade of white, but they were speckled with a coat of something that looked like metal, there was a sheet of smeared glass severing the area from which she was standing to where prisoners were likely kept like they were Hannibal Lector or some other psychopath from a horror movie. All that she could see in the prison cell was a dilapidated cot with a ratty blanket and a toilet that looked rusted over, even the adjacent sink resembled a water fountain more than it did a sink. Those, and Mr. Houston himself. </p><p>He didn’t look up when she got in there, and for a moment, she thought she was looking at someone else. His hair, which was once something that resembled the color of rust, looked lighter and far messier than he’d ever let it get. His beard was longer and untrimmed and he stared off at the wall like it was the most interesting thing he’d seen that day. His eyes were similar to Paul’s, in the regard that they stared off into nothingness like he was waiting for something to happen as oblivion prospered in his mind. Her heart ached at the sight.  </p><p>“Hey…” she stammered, “Mr. Houston…”</p><p>He turned to look at her, his eyes not softening as he made eye contact, “Lex…”</p><p>For a moment they just sat there, staring at one another, two stubborn souls lost in a world that they were unsuited for. </p><p>“So…” he muttered gruffly, not completely making eye-contact with her,  “What are you doing here?” </p><p>She didn’t get a chance to answer as his eyes widened, “How’d you even find me?” </p><p>“Schaeffer subtly threatened Paul,” Lex said calmly, trying to keep her voice as rational as possible, “She told him you were here and he told me in passing.”</p><p>He looked down, his words soft as if the mention of him seemed slightly pained. He had to know that Paul too shared in the grief that had been wrought upon them, “How is Paul?”  </p><p>“He’s a mess,” Lex said simply, “He doesn’t show it, but you can tell...but he’s not why I’m here.” </p><p>“Why <em> are </em> you here?” he asked her again. </p><p>“I…” she sighed, looking down, unsure of what to say. </p><p>She could see in his eyes that there was something in his eyes that was dead. Something that was lacking life. She recognized it from looking at herself for years when long nights of work and dealing with her mother’s bullshit had led to her wondering why she bothered staying alive. The answer she had for herself was Hannah. Hannah was the only reason she had left to live before she met Ethan. </p><p>“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she began carefully, “But Schaeffer’s gone kinda insane…”</p><p>“Has she?” Tom mused, and Lex couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. </p><p>“Um...yeah,” she nodded, quickly deciding to cut to the chase rather than beating around the bush, it would do her no good to linger on exposition, “We need you to come back...<em> Captain…” </em></p><p>He said nothing, instead of staring at her like she’d spoken a foreign language. </p><p>“Mr. Houston,” she began, “Please...you can’t just let yourself sit here and rot for the rest of your life…”</p><p>“I don’t have a life…” he muttered, looking down sadly. </p><p>“Yes you do!” she said insistently, “And you might not realize it, but you are surrounded by people who don’t want to see you waste it!”</p><p>“Why do you care, Lex!?” he snapped, “Huh?”</p><p>That was it. She could see a look in his eyes that she was determined to extinguish. She couldn’t take the guilt away, but at the very least she could give him some resolve to move on. </p><p>“Because Tim would!” she snapped louder. </p><p>He froze, his face growing red as fury bloomed in his eyes, “Don’t you dare-”</p><p>“No!” she shouted, getting him to shut up, “I’m talking now so you better listen! We’re all feeling this loss in different ways...and I’m not gonna even act like <em> any </em>of us know how you feel...but you’ve gotta know that wasting what’s left of your life will do nothing to change what’s happened”</p><p>“All the more reason to let it waste!” he snapped, “What’s left for me?” </p><p>“The people that remain, that’s who!” she shouted, “Sure, none of us will ever replace Tim! We don’t plan to! But we need you, Mr. Houston…”</p><p>“Why?” he snarled, “What could I ever-”</p><p>“Ethan doesn’t know where his father is,” she said bluntly, cutting him off again, making him freeze, “The mechanics and operations bay is going to hell. Paul can’t even begin to talk about Emma without being brought to the brink of tears. Schaeffer is making <em> children </em>work like we’re all soldiers, and she keeps sending operatives out to die despite them having no definitive lead in operations.” </p><p>“What makes you think I’d be any better?” he said, his eyes sad as he looked down. </p><p>“A leader is better than no leader,” she said calmly, trying to get herself to remain in control of the conversation, “And if you can wrangle a class of twenty high schoolers who took your class because they needed another credit, then you can wrangle a secret base like the best of them.” </p><p>She didn’t even bother letting him continue, “Mr. Houston, please...don’t let Schaeffer win...Tim might not be here...but we are. Me, Ethan, Hannah...Becky…” </p><p>His gaze softened slightly before Rodney stepped into the room, “Time’s up. Sorry...Lex…” </p><p>She nodded before turning back to Mr. Houston “Tom…”</p><p>“Don’t…” he cut her off before she could say anything, not meeting her eyes. </p><p>Something inside Lex hurt as she turned towards the door, only wagering a second to look back at him, “Just...think about it...please…”</p><p> She left the brig wiping away some tears that began to form, swallowing down the bitterness in her throat. </p><p>She didn’t even need to ask what the charges he’d been put in the brig for to know that it had something to do with alcohol. Even if he’d not had any in the five weeks he’d been there, he’d carried with him an emotion and stance that she’d seen on the one attempt where Pamela had tried to curb her drinking habit, which had been a few months after Hannah had been born. While Tom’s was different, she could recognize it almost instantly. The way he’d sat, the way he’d regarded her...it almost mirrored what she’d seen in Pamela...only wrought with grief and brokenness that she couldn’t exactly understand. </p><p>She only wished that her words had meant something to him. </p><p>She’d already lost a parent to a poor excuse of a mother with more alcohol in her body than blood. She was not going to allow Tom to sacrifice himself to his sorrow. She couldn’t let him dishonor Tim in that way without even knowing. </p><p>She tried to swallow down the bitterness stabbing away at her throat, trying desperately to keep the ideas welling up in her brain at bay. Tom couldn’t become another Pamela. She couldn’t let him. </p><p>She could only hope that what she’d said had left some influence. </p><p>She could only hope that she wasn’t too late.</p><p>---</p><p>Bill didn’t even know what day it was supposed to be.  </p><p>The last he’d heard, Alice had told him it was the middle of November, and even then, that felt like years ago. It was strange, he thought, how difficult it was to ascertain what time of day it was without the sky. Even though they’d been provided with watches to tell the time and remain punctual, he’d lost his sense of time...something that had once seemed so precious to him. </p><p>The work was nice, especially in the regard that he still was able to provide for Alice, even though Alive could also bring in a great deal since she also had found work in rations. Still, they’d decided that they must stay together. Deb herself was working in the mechanics bay with some other kids they both knew, which gave Bill a little bit more security when it came to Deb.</p><p>Bill was grateful for the structure and benefits that were given to his day, it helped distract from all the bad things that were going on in the world. It allowed him to find a place to hide, away from his problems, and focus on things other than his own life, much like CCRP had provided him a safe place when he was divorcing his ex-wife and Alice was taken away from him. </p><p>Frankly, the organization of files might have seemed like dull work in the information department, but he found it relaxing. When he wasn’t looking over his shoulder to look at Paul who seemed almost like he was dying a little more with every passing day, his worry seemed to melt away. He also was able to forget about the parts of his life he wished he didn’t experience. For example, Deb asking if she could marry Alice once they both hit twenty, or Ted just being completely ignorant to the pain of others. All of these things seemed to be shuffled away with the workday, and he dreaded the end when he would be forced to return to the reality of it all. </p><p>The reality that their world was no longer theirs. </p><p>The reality that it was gonna be this way for a while. </p><p>Bill knew he was far from right to accept this fate as eternal, and he tried to stay optimistic despite their situations, he just wanted everyone to remain safe and happy. And it seemed nobody was. He was fairly certain he was the only person who’d swallowed the pill of reality in which he knew this was the way things were going to be for a while. He did his best to hope for survival. Hope that they would one day live in a world where his daughter could walk in the sun again. Hope that he would see his best friend smile again. Hope that maybe Ted would wisen up a bit and be more mature.</p><p>He had a lot of hopes, just no feasible way to achieve them. </p><p>So, being the true mother-hen that he was, he did the best with what he had and tried to protect what they still had. </p><p>That meant making sure Alice made it home before curfew and was <em> still </em> able to see Deb as much as she could (much to his chagrin). That meant keeping his respectful distance from Paul, but still remaining present enough in case he needed someone to talk to. That meant trying to be as patient as he could even when Ted was being the impatient jerk he tended to be. </p><p>He did the best he could and worked as hard as he could. </p><p>Surely, things would get better...wouldn’t they?</p><p>When the alarm bell rang signifying another day of hard work done, Bill quickly gathered his things and placed them neatly in his bag, casting a glance over his shoulder to see that his best friend, Paul hadn’t moved. </p><p>He was half-certain he would have to watch Paul bolt from his desk again like he always had for the past few weeks. But rather than bolting, Paul had just sat there, staring at his monitor that he’d since shut down, his eyes looking puzzled like he hadn’t even registered the fact that the alarm had rung, to begin with. </p><p>Over the past couple of weeks, Bill had done his best to maintain his distance respectfully and do what he could to make sure that he didn’t overwhelm his friend or violate any boundaries, but this...this seemed worse than what Bill had already witnessed. </p><p>Before everything had happened, Paul had always been an anxious man. Always tapping his fists together when he was stressed. Always murmuring similar phrases under his breath repetitively as a means of calming himself down. Because of this, Bill had always been able to tell when his friend was headed in a downward spiral, and this was certainly no exception. This was a whole lot worse than what Bill had already seen. Bill still didn’t know what had happened to Paul that made him forget that he’d ever existed, or where he’d been all the time. All of his efforts to tell Bill had been blocked by claims of operatives that such information was classified. Whatever it was, Bill knew it couldn’t have been good. Rarely did people ever go from not having <em> any </em> memories of a person to suddenly remembering whole lifetimes. Not only that, but the fact that Paul was <em> already </em>with PEIP when the world ended was enough to raise an eyebrow. Still, Bill didn’t want to ask about it. He didn’t want to give Paul any more reason to be distressed than he already was. </p><p>He glanced over at his friend again, looking at the stiff way Paul stared ahead, looking like he’d not gotten any restful sleep at all.</p><p>He stood and walked over to him, “Paul?” </p><p>The man didn’t respond, instead, staring ahead at the black screen like he’d been hypnotized or something all the more worrisome. </p><p>He patted his shoulder gently, hesitantly, knowing that Paul didn’t like physical contact and quickly withdrawing his hand, “Paul?” </p><p>Paul blinked, almost as if he was snapping out of a haze, “Hmm…” he looked up and his eyes widened his voice sounding like he’d just been snapped back into reality, “Oh...Bill, what?”</p><p>“The alarm rang…” Bill murmured quietly, “You okay?” </p><p>“Oh? Oh, yeah!” Paul laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair, making Bill notice the dark circles and the red rims around his blue eyes.  </p><p>“I don’t believe it,” Bill murmured gently, “Paul...are you taking care of yourself…”</p><p>“Bill, I’m fine!” Paul laughed, his face in a small smile that didn’t reach his exhausted and tired eyes. </p><p>Bill stood in front of him, swallowing hard. He hated doing this, but Paul had already passed out earlier on in the year through self-destructive habits. The man had not eaten or slept properly since Emma had been killed, and he couldn’t handle it. He’d been getting up for a lunch break and just toppled over. It had taken a great deal of persuasion on his part and that red-haired nurse- Becky, was her name, he was fairly certain-  to get him to at the very least start eating regularly. Bill wasn’t about to let Paul sink back into that hole. He wouldn’t pressure Paul to do anything he didn’t want to do, but he would at the very least try and convince his friend to take care of himself...just something, anything. </p><p>“Paul, fine is a four-letter f word you only use when things are most definitely <em> not okay,” </em>he pulled one of the desk chairs up and sat in front of him, “You look exhausted, have you been sleeping?” </p><p>Paul sighed and ran a hand through his hair again and looked down, “I’ve been sleeping…”</p><p>“Yeah?” Bill nodded, listening intently, “But has it been <em> good </em>sleep? Consecutive hours of sleep?” </p><p>Paul chuckled humorlessly, “Not really...no.” </p><p>“What’s going on, Paul?” Bill asked calmly, leaning forward as his friend rested his head in his hands, contemplating something blankly, “You’re not alone in this, you know…”</p><p>“That’s just it, Bill,” the younger man sighed, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye, “I’m really <em> not... </em>but I am.” </p><p>“What do you mean?” Bill asked, not understanding his meaning.</p><p>Paul laughed again, tears falling from his eyes, he wiped at them with his hand, “Do you ever...I don’t know…” he looked down, like he wasn’t sure how he could phrase things, “Do you ever...accept that someone is gone...only to hear them the next moment as if they were in the same room as you?” </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was about Emma. </em>
</p><p>Bill wasn’t sure what to make of Paul’s expression as he said the words. His eyes were filled with the undeniable sadness he’d been carrying with him over the course of the past few months, but there was also a form of...intrigue deep in his eyes, almost as if he was actually considering the possibility that he was hearing Emma. </p><p>Bill’s heart ached at the sight. How broken had Paul become that hopes that made no sense were prospering? It hurt to see him like this. </p><p>“You mean…” Bill began, keeping his voice as soft and sympathetic as he could, “You mean you’re hearing…”</p><p>“Emma,” Paul affirmed with a slight nod, “It’s like- It’s like she’s in the room with me, telling me things…I swear it’s her, but then I...I remember…”</p><p>More tears poured from his eyes and he stared blankly ahead, “I can hear her...but she’s not there and...I…” he turned to Bill, a look of confusion in his eyes. His next words were mere breathy whispers, “I think I might be losing it, Bill…”</p><p>“Paul…” Bill sighed, “I- I don’t know what to tell you…”</p><p>That was the truth. Bill didn’t have the slightest idea of what he should say to his grieving friend. On one hand, Emma was a topic that was very sore for him. The fact that such a wonderful person who’d loved Paul in ways Bill had never seen a person love another before had been snuffed out so quickly and abruptly, cut off from Paul’s life before he knew what to do was horrifying.  He figured that a loss like that would make itself known in the worst of ways, but sacrificing Paul’s sanity? </p><p>Emma wouldn’t want that. </p><p>She wouldn’t want Paul to live his life being haunted forever by her memory and voice. </p><p>She wouldn’t have wanted him to live like this. </p><p>And yet, here he was, losing his mind to what was already lost. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Paul muttered, looking down, “I know it sounds crazy…” </p><p>“How long has this been going on?” Bill asked carefully, “How long do you think you’ve been hearing her?” </p><p>“Almost a week,” Paul muttered, “And sometimes it’s just a sentence or two...sometimes it’s a word...but it’s her voice...and I can hear her so clearly, Bill…”</p><p>“And it hurts?” he guessed. </p><p>Surprisingly, Paul shook his head, “No...N-No….it feels like I never lost her, to begin with...but that can’t be true...can it?”</p><p>The hope in his eyes was shattering to Bill. With a tug of pain at Bill’s heart, he realized that he actually <em> hoped </em>that Emma was alive out there, somewhere. While he was happy that there was some degree of hope in his eyes, Bill knew it was impossible. Emma had been crushed in a cave-in. There weren’t many stories of survival from situations like that. And if Schaeffer had been right about the trackers in their combat gear signifying that she had been underneath it all, then Emma was dead and never going to come back. The hope that Paul did have, was a false one. One that would only crush him further in the end, and it broke Bill’s heart to have to break it before that could happen. </p><p>“I don’t think so, Paul,” Bill murmured as reasonably and as comfortingly as he could, “And I think you know it too…”</p><p>At this Paul’s face fell, more tears falling from his eyes. He straightened and wiped them away, “Yeah...you’re right...it’s impossible…I probably just need some sleep…”</p><p>Paul shrugged and laughed, more tears falling from his eyes as he gathered his things, clearly finished with the conversation. He sighed and smiled slightly, the tears gone. In the place of the confused and grieving man was the shell of the man Paul Matthews had once been. Numb to the world and numb to his own grief. Bill didn’t want him to be numb to the pain, rather he wanted Paul to move forward...to process it properly. But as Paul quickly made a move for the door, he knew it would be a while before that would happen. </p><p>“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” Bill offered, standing as well, not entirely sure he wanted to leave his friend alone. </p><p>“No,” Paul shook his head, walking quickly towards the door before hesitating and turning back to look at him, “Thanks, Bill...I needed some sense talked into me…”</p><p>With a forced smile, Paul turned and left, Bill watched him as he went. </p><p>Bill could tell that his friend was broken. That the loss of Emma had left a wound that wasn’t gonna heal quickly any time soon. He would do nothing to intervene yet...he would only move forward if he was certain that Paul required another intervention.</p><p> Until then, he would do what he always did...look after what mattered.</p><p>He wouldn’t let Emma Perkins’ ghost be the reason for his best friend’s destruction. </p><p>He would do anything to see his friend happy again. </p><p> Because Bill was loyal, he would rather die than see those that he loved in pain. </p><p>He would make them realize that life was worth living, despite all the loss and grief that hung over their base like a cloud. </p><p>He would do anything to make sure they would survive. </p><p>Anything. </p><p>---</p><p>John had gotten used to the clink of chisels and the falling of stones as their time in the tunnels progressed. It was almost like a catchy tune in the way that the sounds echoed in the stone caverns. He found it entertaining, almost like a lullaby, which distracted from the overlay of nervousness that surrounded their situation. </p><p>Since they’d added Lucy and Chumby to the group, they’d been making marvelous progress. They presumed that they had less than a month before they’d be out and have access to the PEIP tunnels, returning to a life they were far better prepared for. Tim and Emma would get the medical aid they required and they’d hopefully have something to return home to. </p><p>He refused to get his hopes up. He had to approach the operation like he did everything else, in an orderly, militant fashion. </p><p>Still, he’d gotten quite sick of the regularity of lifting boulders for the sake of their survival and living off of stuff that couldn’t constitute a normal meal by any means. He and Xander were gonna require some serious forms of therapy to get back to their full health. Still, they were making progress. He only hoped that they could make it in time. </p><p>It always amazed him how optimistic Lucy and Xander could be in the wake of such events though. He knew that Xander looked at the situation analytically, but he always moved through it with a smile and determination. That was another reason why it had been so easy to fall in love with Xander, to begin with. </p><p>They’d probably been working in the tunnels for a few hours, breaking about two hours before for lunch and conversation, in which they’d explained to Lucy the details of their wedding,  and heard a great deal about the fiance that Lucy had lost to the siege of the upper world. After that, it was back into the caves for more work that would last until they were hungry again. </p><p>This had been their operation. Their operation <em> Eurydice </em> as they’d called it. </p><p>The name had been easy for him to think of. They were trapped in a dark and cold world with no idea of what the people they loved were doing. They referred to them as the ‘living’ since they were in much better conditions, while the people still trapped in Hidgens’ basement were the ‘dead’ since it was likely that they were all presumed dead.    </p><p>The myth had been one of his favorites. Lovers separated by death, trying desperately to be reunited. Sure, the myth had a tragic ending, but this would likely end differently, right? After all, no terms or conditions were surrounding their return to the base. In some ways, the love shared between Orpheus and Eurydice reminded him of Paul and Emma. The two of them separated time and time again that they would likely walk to hell and back over and over again to regain the love that they’d shared… and they had. In some ways, this mission name was a homage to that. A reminder of just <em> one </em>of the many things they had back at the base to return to. He’d never tell Emma that, though. </p><p>As they continued to work, he took note of as much as he could, how many boulders they’d moved in comparison to the day before, how much dirt they had Xander and Lucy alternate running out of the tunnel. They’d used some red ink they’d found in one of the professor’s offices to mark their progress. From the looks of it, it looked as though they’d made it about two yards in comparison to their presumed three or four. If they managed to keep working at this efficiency, they’d be out in no time. </p><p>Lucy was laughing about something with Chumby as he lifted another rock out of the way, making John smile. The sound of laughter was like music in a place such as this. In a world where life seemed to be such a finite resource, laughter was a rarity, and he was grateful to hear it anywhere. </p><p>He cast a glance down at his watch, which had been damaged when he’d collapsed to the ground, diving out of the way of the cave-in. It only told the date, December third, as opposed to the actual time of the day. It was odd, he figured, that such a wonderful device would be deprived of its primary function and not something that another handy device would be able to provide. Still, it was indeed helpful to know that the day was still the third as he’d checked it hours before. </p><p>“Hey, guys!” he called to the other people, “Why don’t we wrap up what we’re doing and call it a day?”</p><p>“Sounds good!” Chumby’s voice echoed back as he moved another big stone to the side. </p><p>Lucy shot him a thumbs-up as she assisted in piling more dirt into a large bucket before moving towards the mouth of the tunnel to dump it. </p><p>John turned to smile at Xander, who was in the process of lifting another large boulder. </p><p>“Here let me help you with that,” John smiled, moving over to help his husband move the rock aside. </p><p>“I’m perfectly capable of moving it myself, I’ll have you know,” Xander sassed him, smiling mischievously as he did. </p><p>“I know,” John answered as he helped him roll it to the side, “I just like being around you is all.” </p><p>“You like being around me?” Xander snorted, watching as Lucy and Chumby took their leave from the cave, “Gross.” </p><p>“Hey!” John exclaimed jokingly, “You’re the loser who bound yourself to me for life, you know...It’s not my fault I’m as hot as you think I am.” </p><p>“That’s it!” Xander groaned jokingly, “I want a divorce!”</p><p>With that, John pulled his husband to meet him with a soft kiss against his lips, smiling as he did. He really did love his nerdy husband. All science and facts, and yet managing to be a smartass in the middle of it all. Why he’d taken as long as he had to ask him to marry him was beyond him.</p><p>“I still want a divorce,” Xander chuckled as they broke away, “No matter how good of a kisser you are…” </p><p>“But Xander…” John murmured, “You love me.” </p><p>“Really?” Xander seemed to consider it for a moment, “Okay, yeah...I guess I do.”</p><p>Their lips were just about to meet again when Xander raised an eyebrow, “What’s that?” </p><p>“What?” John whirled around to meet where his eyes had fallen. </p><p>In the place of the large stone they’d just moved aside, there were, as expected, more rocks and dirt, but as John studied the area more closely, he could see a small glint of something metallic, shining in the dust. </p><p>He moved away from Xander, kneeling to pull it free. </p><p>It was a sharp sliver of metal, bent in a random curved shape. Though it was badly dented, he could tell that some of the unique bends in the material were intentional.</p><p> He held up the dusty material to show Xander and noticed something on the opposite side. It was an engraving of sorts, a few letters, and numbers that he realized he recognized. The first two were unmistakable. </p><p>
  <em> XL  </em>
</p><p>Suddenly the remarkable shake of the material when one disregarded the few dents made perfect sense. He looked up at his husband and saw that he too was wearing a shocked face. </p><p>“You recognize the shape?” he asked, handing it to them, “It has your initials on it...whatever this was...It was made in your lab.”</p><p>Xander inspected it, his eyes widening and his face growing pale “This...no, it can’t be…”</p><p>“You really think it might be…?” John prompted, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. </p><p>“Maybe,” Xander mused, “But these were all destroyed...the prototypes were gone...so why would it be…”</p><p>“What’s it doing down here, anyway?” John wondered aloud, worry rising in his veins, “If it’s what we think it is…” </p><p>“I can’t think of anything else it would be…” Xander muttered, examining it worriedly, “But we can’t make any hasty conclusions, so unless we find anything else, let’s not jump to any.”</p><p>“Agreed,” John nodded, “But if this is what we think it is…”</p><p>“Then it was put down here on purpose?” Xander asked.</p><p>“Yes,” John nodded gravely, the terror associated with any possible truth related to this weighing down heavily on his mind,  “And someone meant to bury us with it.”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> She was standing in the grand hallway of Hidgens’ home. The checkered tile was covered in dust. The streams of sunlight through the almost-opaque were cast in dust and streamed down in beams that surrounded her. The house appeared mostly dilapidated in nature, with the wallpaper peeling away and the tile appearing more cracked and mosaic-like than it had once appeared as a chess-board. In addition to the messed-up appearance of the house itself, shades of saffron and green seemed to envelop her as ivy and other new forms of plants growing over everything, making the inside of the house look like the cozy hamlet deep inside of a deep forest.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was wearing the same cream lace dress, only this time, the sash was a shade of dark blue and she was holding a large bouquet of poppies and cornflowers in her hands, staring down at them quizzically.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She didn’t know what she was doing there, as she walked across the cracked tile, nearly avoiding the chandelier which was so covered in cobwebs and plants that she had almost missed it entirely.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?” she called out, unsure of what she was doing within the dilapidated manor. She didn’t know if she was waiting for anyone, or if they wanted her to find something within the house itself. All she knew was that she was there. Alone. Just her and the dust.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She glanced around her surroundings. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was she doing here? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The manor looked almost as if it had been abandoned for several years...but it was still standing. She wasn't sure she liked it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She walked towards the big front door, a heavy piece of black wood with elegant carvings into the sides, adorned with intricate bronze shapes, attempting to pull it open with all of her strength.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She had no idea what she expected to find out in the world, but anything was better than remaining in the creepy, possibly haunted home of Henry Hidgens.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She opened the door and found that the house itself was still in the middle of nowhere, but rather than being around one of the entrance areas of the Witchwood, it was in the center of that painfully familiar field. The field containing the poppies and cornflowers that she still held in her hands. The field she’d seen Paul die in several times over.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stepped out of the house with a sigh, knowing what was supposed to happen. Eventually, she’d see Paul, they’d get a brief moment of happiness and then he’d die all over again, leaving her with the guilt and anguish of having left him behind.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why couldn’t she ever just sleep dreamlessly? Why did she have to have her sins played out in front of her like a horror show that she never wanted to see? What did her fears have to be manifested when she was the most vulnerable?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gripping the flowers in her hand, her bare feet met the cool earth and she stepped gracefully into the field. She was just about to go for one of the large willow trees that stood a little ways away when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello, Emma,”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She whirled around to see a familiar silver-haired man leaning up against the side of the house- his house. Instead of being clad in his usual black turtleneck, however, he wore a neat black and white suit, looking like he was prepared for a funeral or going to the opera.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Anger rose in her chest, “Y-You…” </em>
</p><p><em> Henry Hidgens  nodded softly, “Me...well, not the </em> me <em> you knew...but yes...me.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she said holding out her flowers like they were a weapon of sorts.  </em>
</p><p><em> “It means I’m the Henry Hidgens that died in 1977,” the old man sighed, “The </em> real <em> Henry Hidgens.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> She snorted, “I don’t believe you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, “You don’t have to. This is a dream, after all, so I can’t harm you, and you can’t harm me…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Pain’s in the mind, old man,” she snarled, “Why are you here?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He gestured upward to the house by which they stood, “It’s my house, and I’m one of the three people you’re supposed to meet in this dream.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She snorted humorlessly again, “What the fuck is this...a Christmas Carol?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The old man laughed and held out his hand, “Not really...but I don’t mean you any harm.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma just stared at his hand. Did he really expect her to take his hand after everything he’d done?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He noticed her hesitancy and sighed, “That’s alright, after everything the demon wearing my skin had done, I wouldn’t take it either.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why are you here?” she asked him, eyeing him suspiciously.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m here to show you around. To get you to where you’re going,” he gestured towards the field, “Come with me, Emma.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Against her better judgement, she followed him through the field until she was walking beside him, her eyes not leaving him, watching his nonchalant manner suspiciously.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I can see why you were his favorite student,” the old man said after a few moments, “You’re bright, intelligent, sharp, witty, and you certainly don’t take anyone’s shit,” he smiled, “You remind me of who I once was before I was taken.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled and looked down. She’d forgotten that the real Henry Hidgens’ life had been stolen by the demon that had kidnapped Tim long before anything like this had happened. The world that surrounded them was so convoluted and was so dangerous she’d forgotten that there were victims long before the cycle of life and death had even begun. The cycle that began with Jane’s death. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They walked through the flowers, the sun setting in the far distance, she turned to him, “Where are we going?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ll see…” he smiled, “I’m only getting you to the next person…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So... no terror? No guilt? No death?” she asked, “That doesn’t make much sense..” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And why is that?” he asked, stopping and looking her in the eyes, “Why have you come to expect these from this world?”    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” she began, a little dumbstruck by the question, “That’s what always happens...the sky turns red and everything goes to shit...guilt and...and Paul dying…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul dying?” The old man questioned her, “I’m assuming Paul’s your young man?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” she nodded, “He’s my partner...soulmate or something like that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And you’re sure these dreams aren’t reflecting your fear of losing him?” the old man asked, “Think Emma, are these the conjurings of your mind?” “ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Isn’t that what we’re in right now?” she asked, growing impatient with the old man, “Isn’t that what all dreams are?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dreams, yes,” Hidgens smiled, “But what makes you so sure that this is a dream…?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You just said a few moments ago that this was a dream!” she exclaimed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A dream for you, yes,” he whispered, “But for us, this is reality.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who’s us?” she asked him as he continued to move.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ll see,” the old man spoke quietly, looking down, “But you must understand that these visions of Paul dying are truly a manifestation of your fear of losing him, then you have to recognize that the nightmare can still win. Don’t let it.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t let it win?” She snorted, “What’s that supposed to mean?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It means that these nightmares are keeping you from being found by those who truly matter,” Hidgens said seriously, “He’s hearing you, but the doubt is still there...he needs one to affirm that he is hearing you in order for you to truly be discovered. He needs the seer to hear you as well.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked, growing annoyed with his dramatics.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and looked around, “I’ve said too much, Emma, but you’re a smart girl...I know you will figure it out...you have to.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He glanced up, “We’re here.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She followed his gaze and saw that they were standing in front of another house, a home made of lovely white paneling and black shutters. The home was aesthetically pleasing and simple, almost like the kind of home you’d see in magazines or books about the perfect families and the perfect lives.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens knocked on the door, “Hopefully my friends can do more for you than I can.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they waited for the door to be answered he smiled at her, “It was lovely to meet you, Emma...I wish we could have been friends in another lifetime.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma didn’t know what else to do but nod as the door was opened. Hidgens looked up before she did, smiling as he greeted her host. Emma followed his gaze shortly after, looking up to meet the eyes of- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane?!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before her, standing in the doorway wearing a poppy-red halter-dress, was her sister, Jane Perkins, looking just the age she did when she died. Alive and well.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane flashed her a perfect smile, soft and alluring in everything she was, her bouncy brown curls bouncing as she moved her head, “Heya, Emmie.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens softly smiled, “I’ll leave her in your hands then, Jane?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane smiled and nodded, “Of course, thank you, Henry!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens gently patted Emma on the back before turning on his heel...and promptly disappearing into thin air.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma was unable to meet Jane’s eyes without looking away. She couldn’t believe she was looking up at her sister. The sister whose life had been taken when a car had collided with hers, the driver drunk to the world and to the destruction he’d caused. Her sister who’d been perfect in every way. Who’d followed her plan for life to the tee and had been taken far too soon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “J-Ja-Jane ?” she couldn’t get the word out correctly in her opinion as she stared at the sight before her. Her Jane. Jane who’d been taken from her before she’d ever gotten to know her.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane chuckled and nodded, “Who else, Emmie?” she smiled warmly, “Why don’t you come in, we have a few things to go over and not enough time to do it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slowly, as if someone else had taken over her movement, she followed her sister into the house, not knowing what else to do.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sure you have many questions,” Jane said, wrapping a long arm around Emma as they made their way through the quaintly decorated house. Emma was certain she’d seen wedding pictures of Jane and Tom on a shelf, or baby pictures of Tim, painful reminders of all the events she hadn’t been at.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane…” she murmured, unsure of what else to say, “Jane...you...you’re dead…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane stopped for a moment before smiling and laughing, “Well...yeah, Emma...but there are worse things that could happen...I mean, I could have come back as a car or something.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard in her life. Emma wasn’t sure what else to act.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They stopped in front of an entryway where Emma could hear the squeals and laughter of a toddler. She peeked in through the doorway and saw a younger and happier looking Tom sitting on the floor, his arms outstretched towards a toddler with copious amounts of baby fat distributed around the arms and legs. She almost instantly recognized the messy mop of red-brown hair that was on the toddler’s head as he squealed with laughter, moving quickly towards a laughing Tom.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is this where the guilt comes in?” she sighed bitterly, not looking at the visage of her sister walking alongside her, “Is this where you berate me for not being at the happy stages of your life while you were alive?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane chuckled and shook her head, “No, Emmie, no…” she sighed and looked at Tim and Tom as they played on the living room floor.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then why are you here?” Emma asked, whirling on her, “Jane...I have felt nothing but guilt for you since you died…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Exactly why I am here,” Jane smiled, “Emmie, you’ve been living a life of guilt and anger…you can’t let that consume you…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma sniffed, “But….but I-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No buts,” Jane shook her head, “Emmie...you left because you had to...not because you had a vendetta against me or my family...sure, I was bitter about that while I was alive, but I was bitter about a lot of things…what you’re not understanding is that we’ve forgiven you...Tom, Tim...and me...You can’t carry that guilt around forever.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma felt tears well up in her eyes,  “But...I was so...so angry...I couldn’t be here-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know, Emmie,” Jane soothed, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her arm, “But you’ve got to give yourself credit...you’re here now...and you’re keeping my son alive while you’re living out a life that’s...pretty shitty, if I do say so myself…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Emma sniffed, rubbing away at her tear-filled eyes, “I’m glad you’re not there to see it…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The point is Emmie,” Jane murmured, leading them away from the archway and to the back door, passing a few shut doors on their way, “You can’t blame yourself for what has happened...all you can do is forgive yourself and pursue what lies ahead.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma sniffed and melted into her sister’s embrace as Jane wrapped her arms around her, leading her to the back door.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they moved, Emma caught a sense of sound that resembled singing, emanating from behind a door that was half-open. She stopped, extricating herself from her sister’s loving grasp and moving for the door, catching the lyrics to the strange familiar song all the better. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“...Nature has its own religion; gospel from the land. Father ruled by long division, young men they pretend. Old man comprehend. And the sky breaks at dawn, shedding light upon this town. They’ll all come around...cus’ the man of the hour is takin’ his final bow...goodbye for now.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The voice was soft and light, nothing like Tom’s, as far as Emma knew. The words were gentle and alluring...almost as if they were lulling someone to sleep. The way each word was said reminded her of the way gentle waves crashed upon the shore, moving forward and receding in a pleasant rhythm that she didn’t want to end.  She needed to find the voice’s source. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why did it sound so familiar?!?</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s that?” she asked before Jane moved in front of her and gently pulled the door shut.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Not yet, Emma,” Jane smiled, “Pursue the future.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why do you have to be so cryptic?” Emma asked as Jane moved to the back door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because it’s much more fun that way, Emma,” Jane laughed, “Also, we can’t tell you too much, those are the rules…it took us long enough to find out that you were here, to begin with.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She pulled open the door and gestured outside.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But…” Emma began, a painful throb starting in her chest “I just got here…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane’s eyes softened, “I know...I’m sorry we can’t talk longer…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-I have so many questions,” Emma whispered, “I have so many things I need to say…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You don’t need to say them, Emmie,” Jane smiled, cupping Emma’s face tenderly in her hands, “I forgive you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane pressed a gentle kiss to Emma’s nose, much like she had when they were much younger and happier (and alive) versions of themselves.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now go,” Jane gestured to the outside, “He’s waiting for you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without thinking, Emma threw herself at Jane, burrowing into her sister in a tight hug that she should have given her sister when she’d first left Hatchetfield. She reveled in the warmth and love that radiated off of her sister, reminding her of the few moments during Jane’s actual life that they’d shared actual sisterly affection.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma wiped away at tears as she looked up at her softly-smiling sister, “I...I miss you Jane...every single day.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane smiled down at her, her soft brown eyes beaming as she squeezed Emma one final time, “I miss you too, Emma….now go, pursue the future...live each day to the most.”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Casting one last longing glance at the face of her sister, Emma did her best to commit Jane’s face to memory. She had a round face, which contrasted somewhat to the sharp angles of Emma’s jawline, with big brown eyes that gazed back at her, almost as if she had a constant glint of laughter in her eyes. Her hair was darker and curlier than Emma’s, almost always clipped into a neat bob, with a smile that Emma only wished she could rival, growing up. Jane Meredith Perkins. Her older sister.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Swallowing her pain, Emma managed a small smile before stepping out of the house and back into the field.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Stretched out in front of her, cutting through the numerous flowers (which she realized strangely matched her bouquet) was a neatly defined dirt path. She turned back to ask Jane if she was supposed to follow it, as the sun continued to set across the colors and the horizon, but found that the house, and Jane, were gone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She swallowed the lump in her throat and began to follow the trail. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t remember how long she’d been walking before a line of trees came into view, almost leading her into a wood she couldn’t quite recognize. As the light continued to fade over the horizon she was hesitant to enter it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where would this lead her?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where was she going?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why was she following the instruction of the image of her dead sister? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was she crazy?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was about to turn around and go back the way she came when she heard a voice echo in her ears.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma? Are you there?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She recognized the voice immediately.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul?” she called out, walking faster towards the edge of the dark woods, “Paul, where are you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She ran into the woods, paying no attention to the light fading as she traveled deeper into the woods that looked like a more colorful and more lush version of the Witchwoods. She moved faster, calling out for Paul.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul, where are you?” she shouted, listening to her voice echo through the woods, “Are you here?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma?” her name echoed back to her in his voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her heart beat faster as she searched for him, desperation pouring through her veins as she moved faster, “Paul! I’m here...where are you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!” his voice was louder now, her heart pounded in her ears as she broke into a run, not caring as the cool ground cut into her bare feet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Anticipation and desperation consumed her as she ran, “Paul! Paul! I’m here!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!” his voice was so loud she could have sworn he was a few feet away from her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She skidded to a stop as she tumbled into a clearing, the remaining sunlight beams pouring through the canopy highlighting the scene around her. The cranberry colors of the trees intermixing with the golden-green made her feel like she was surrounded by the essence of autumn. Suddenly, across from her, running with desperation into the clearing as she had moments before, was a very confused and very worn out Paul.    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For a moment she just stared at him as he spun around, his eyes darting around the clearing until they finally fell on her. He froze, his eyes wide as they stared at her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em-Emma?” he stammered, his voice in a disbelieving whisper as he stared at her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul!” she breathed a sigh of relief, bounding forward, happy just to see his stupid face amidst all the confusion that had consumed her. She dropped her flowers and ran to him throwing her arms around him, enveloping her in her arms as tightly as she could. Even in a dream, the feeling of having him in her arms was comforting and wonderful. Still, something wasn’t entirely right, he was returning her affection, but hesitantly, almost like he wasn't sure he was seeing her, or that it was her he was holding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma?” he repeated her name again like he still doubted it was her he was with.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smirked up at him, “Yeah...nerd, it’s me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But-but...y-you died…” he whispered, looking shocked and uncertain, his arms stiff as he held her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” she studied his face, how deep the lines of worry were creased into his skin, how dark the shadows under his eyes were, “Paul...what do you mean…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This is a dream…” he broke away from her, shaking his head and holding his hands to his temples like he had a bad headache, “You’re not real...I’m gonna wake up and you’ll disappear...Emma...the real Emma’s dead…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before she could say anything he stepped away from her, muttering the same things under his breath “You’re not real...Emma’s gone.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “N-No...no, Paul,” she cried, pulling his hands into her own, “No….I’m real, I’m alive...I promise….and I’m gonna make it back to you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s eyes were filled with tears at that moment, “Emma, I’m sorry you’re gone…” fat tears began to roll down his cheeks as he looked at her, “I shouldn’t have let you go...I’m so sorry…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m real, Paul!” she cried, cupping his face gently as tears of her own began to fall, “Look at me! I’m still the woman you fell in love with and I- wait….this is part of the dream...isn’t it? I’m supposed to feel guilt here? This is where I feel sorry for everything?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t respond as tears continued to fall from his big, sad eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She took his hands in her own and looked him in the eye as more tears fell from her eyes, “Paul, I’m so sorry for leaving...But I swear to you…” she choked on the sobs that were building in her throat, “I promise you...I’m alive...and I’m coming back to you...any day now.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t seem convinced. But rather than trying to argue, he just stepped forward and hugged her like it was the thing he’d been wanting to do for months, and she allowed him. His sad eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around her, shaking against her as tears continued to fall. He was murmuring things under his breath, along the lines of ‘I wish this wasn’t a dream’ and ‘Emma, I’m so sorry’.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He broke away from her, cupping her jaw gently as he looked at her, “I miss you, Emma,” he whispered, still talking like she wasn’t real, “Please...please don’t wake me-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, he lurched forward in pain, his eyes widening and his sentence lost in a pained gasp. She quickly cast her eyes to the heavens and saw that the sky was turning back to a blood-red, the shade that signified that Paul was going to die in her arms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No-No...no” she murmured, gathering him in her arms as he sank to the ground, blood beginning to pour from between his lips, desperately casting her eyes around in search of whatever powers there be that was responsible, “No...not yet...please give us more time…NOT YET, PLEASE!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em,” he whispered, a shaky hand coming up to reach her face, “Emma, I’m sorry.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They lay on the ground with her clutching desperately at him, desperate for her to have him just this once. He stared up at her with empty eyes as she gently caressed his face, more tears falling from those beautiful blue eyes.  </em>
</p><p><em> “I just wanna-” he lurched up, hacking more blood out, she cried as he did and wiped gently at his face, “I just wanna look at you…So I don’t forget...I </em> can’t <em> forget…” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Paul…” she whispered, tears pouring from her eyes as she held him, “Paul, I’m sorry...but I’m coming back I swear...I’m alive.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled softly to himself,  his voice shaky as life began to fade from his eyes as she held him,  “I wish this were real and not a dream…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, the sad exhale of death left his lips and he lay there, limp in her arms another time...only this time was different. Paul had never once, in these dreams, told her that she wasn’t real, or acted like she was a hallucination...a memory of what? The real Emma?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And the grief in his eyes...that had been something she’d never once seen in her dreams… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She could feel the pain of his loss burgeoning in his chest as she knew the dream was coming to a close.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes shot open with a hoarse gasp as she woke up, her eyes crusty and stinging with the silent tears she’d been crying for however long she’d been asleep. Fortunately, she hadn’t been careless enough to wake anyone else up as she woke.  </p><p>Rather than waking up feeling sad and guilty, as she always did when she and Paul walked the field, she felt very confused. All the previous times that she had walked the field with Paul, they’d been blissfully happy together...walking around until the sky would fall red and Paul would fall dead, asking the one question that cut her to her soul; why did you leave me?</p><p>But this...this time was different. </p><p>Paul seemed like he was convinced that she was dead...or at the very least <em> trying </em>to convince himself of such a fact. He’d seemed so lucid in comparison to all the other times she’d been with him. God, she wished she had more time so they could at the very least, share some of the brief happiness placed between them in the previous dreams. Usually, before all hell broke loose in the dreams she would at least have a few moments to revel in his smile and eyes, which she missed more than anything in the world. </p><p>Then there was the matter of what Jane and the real Hidgens had told her and frankly, she couldn’t make sense of it. </p><p>Her heart ached at the look of grief that she had seen in his eyes. The tug of agony at her heart when he first tried to tell her that she wasn't real still lingered, making her confused.</p><p>Why had he told her that she wasn’t real when it was <em> her </em> dream? </p><p>Rather than lingering on the painful question, she wiped at her tear-stained eyes and stared up at the cavern ceiling like she always had, ignoring the painful throb in her leg. </p><p><em> Dear Paul, </em> she began again, <em> I’m sorry… </em></p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>Elsewhere, Paul shot up in bed with a gasp. His hands flying to his chest where he could have sworn a stabbing pain had wrought its fury on him in his dream. </p><p>
  <em> His dream… </em>
</p><p>Never before had he seen Emma so clearly in a nightmare before. Never before had she tried to convince him that she wasn’t dead...but he tried not to think about it. </p><p>Emma was dead, and longing to take the word of a dream projection of her was only going to make him worse. </p><p>Still, the way she had felt in his arms...wrapping her small around him gently and cupping his face like she always had when he was distressed...that had never happened before. </p><p>He couldn’t fall back asleep that night, as the reminders of Emma from his dream and how <em> real </em>she seemed plagued his mind.</p><p>A perfect ghost for a perfect tormenting nightmare. </p><p>She’d looked so beautiful in that lace dress with the navy blue sash. In some ways, when he’d seen her with the bouquet in hand, he was worried he’d be reminded of a life that he’d wanted so badly with Emma. A life where they would swear themselves to one another for the sake of propriety, but also because they loved and honored one another in a way nobody else had before...but all that the dream had tried to do was convince him of a lie that would have made the ugly truth all the more appealing. </p><p>Bill had said so earlier, hadn’t he? </p><p>Emma was gone and she wasn’t coming back. </p><p>Why couldn’t he accept that?</p><p>He tried to block the thoughts of Emma from his mind as her words echoed back at him. Her voice, once again, loud in his mind, repeating her words from her dream that logic demanded was a falsehood. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> I promise you...Paul, I will return to you…”  </em></p><p> </p><p>An exhausted set of tears fell from his eyes as he savored the sound of her voice in his mind.</p><p>And just for a moment, he found himself hoping that the dream Emma was real as she claimed. </p><p>Could she have been?</p><p>Then...for the first time in months, Paul Matthews found himself thinking on matters of the impossible. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lex is amazing, trying to help Tom pick himself back up.</p><p>Tom...needs a big hug and maybe some time with Becky.</p><p>Bill is sweetheart, but what lengths will he be driven to in order to protect his best friend?</p><p> </p><p>Uh oh, John and Xander found something...</p><p>Emma needs some hugs and Paul. Also...what was up with that dream?!?!</p><p>Please leave comments and/or kudos to let me know what you think!!! Even if you don't, I still appreciate your taking the time to read this EXTREMELY LONG chapter!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please be kind to yourselves and have a wonderful as safe day!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Stuck Where the Past and Future Meet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Schaeffer has a revelation before anyone else does.<br/>Emma has a valuable conversation after some heavy contemplation.<br/>Becky repairs a bridge.<br/>Paul needs answers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song “Die Anywhere Else” from ‘Night in the Woods’ (Shoutout to @Winter_Lazuli  for the song recommendation!!! If you have any song recommendations for chapter titles, please let me know!!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: December 4th, 2018</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Schaeffer was fascinated by the results </span>
  <span>of her ongoing investigation of Paul Matthews. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what she expected but this most certainly was not it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was easy to bug his work station, according to the people she had monitoring his activity, as well as placing a few small, easily-hidden cameras around his apartment. At first, she hadn't seen anything suspicious or anything that would have given her an excuse to have him thrown in the brig for some low-key reconditioning, but it didn’t help that he wasn’t giving her anything to work with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cried a lot. That was the first thing she noticed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t understand it. Of course, she knew he missed the soulmate and nephew that he’d lost, but with the visage of calm and unemotionality that he put on at work, she would have guessed that he’d almost entirely moved on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was proven wrong by the chronicles of restless sleep that she’d gathered in the past few days, muttering Emma’s name under his breath over and over again, sometimes waking several times to pace the floor and stare at the walls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All she saw, at first, was a lonely, pathetic man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then she saw a man who was on the brink of his sanity...or so he thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul Matthews was many things...but he wasn’t crazy. She’d watched the footage and read the gathered transcripts over and over again to know that he was far from insane, but the fact that he thought he was, was most definitely advantageous to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was what the first three days had been, watching Paul move through his daily life like he was a lifeless robot, moving through everything as though it were lacking any form of color and life. After the workday, he would almost bolt home and remain in his apartment until the alarm for the next day started. In between the curfew bell and the work bell, he’d get sporadic sleep, or force himself to eat something, which looked unappetizing altogether. His sleeping patterns were indeed interesting to her, the way he would sometimes sleep on the floor, or the couch, or very carefully sleep on one side of the bed he and Emma once shared...it was obvious that he wasn’t crazy...he was just grieving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until the end of the day before that she’d seen something truly interesting. Well, not seen, really, heard...from a recording from the bug on his computer. She’d had it transcripted and was staring at the papers for as long as she could. The conversation would have otherwise seemed normal, had it not been for the fact that Paul had spent most of it talking about how he was fairly certain he was crazy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation had started out simply. Paul was not getting up from his workstation as quickly as he normally did. From the looks of it on the security footage, he was just...sitting there, staring into nothingness. Then, very quickly, a man they’d ID’d as Bill Woodward had come up and asked him if he was okay. Somewhere along the way, Paul had mentioned that he thought he was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>hearing </span>
  </em>
  <span>Emma’s voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had given her pause. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only people who knew about Paul’s ability had been herself, Becky, Tom, John, Xander, Emma, Lex, Ethan, Hannah, and Paul himself. She wasn’t entirely sure if anyone else knew, and frankly, she was alright with that fact. The knowledge of his and Hannah’s abilities couldn’t be something of discussion for the rest of the survivors to know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now came the hard part...figuring out if Paul was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hearing Emma or not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer to discredit his claims of being in need of sleep (although the man looked like he could use a few hours), had come later in the night. Unlike most nights, Paul had just curled up on top of the covers of the single bed in the apartment, curling in on himself like he had a stomach ache. He remained like that for a while before he began to toss and turn, almost as if he was running away from something in his sleep. Then he began to writhe, as though in agony before sitting up, desperately trying to catch his breath. The audio hadn’t picked up anything that he said, but she could see in his eyes that there was something of confusion lurking beneath. He didn’t go back to sleep after that</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She played the audio from the conversation with Mr. Woodward again, listening to the concerned tones in Bill’s voice and the shaky way Paul was barely able to enunciate words. The way that Paul was speaking...it was almost as if he was a war with himself. As though logic and science demanded that he believe his soulmate dead, but something else insisting otherwise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevertheless, she was intrigued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could a man in such a hopeless situation allow himself such foolish hopes? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer was that he wouldn’t. Unless he actually had some evidence that would prove otherwise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Paul Matthews wasn’t crazy, but it was most advantageous that he believed as much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All she needed right now was a valid excuse to bring him in and make sure he was silenced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he truly was hearing Emma, then that meant that she was alive and so were the others...that meant that blowing them up hadn’t done anything. If Paul even came </span>
  <em>
    <span>close </span>
  </em>
  <span>to figuring that out, then he would tell someone else who would be far more likely to raise hell at her doorstep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He likely didn’t even know what information he potentially had...if there was any merit to her theory, which made the fact that she had possibly put two-and-two together before he had all the more exciting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Emma truly was alive, then she could do anything in her power to get back to Paul, and if the others were alive as well...she was fairly certain they’d figure out what she had done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea made her feel nauseous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been so sure that she would succeed. She was so sure that they’d die so quickly, it would be easily considered something of a tragic accident. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As far as she knew, using the abandoned prototype charges that Xander had vetoed all those years ago would leave no evidence. Of course, she knew that Xander had been uncertain of the quality of the casing that surrounded the actual device, but if it was buried, then she should have nothing to worry about. But if they’d been trapped in the remnants of Hidgens’ basement for as long as they presumably had been, they’d run out of supplies and die off, right? There was no conceivable way that they would be able to dig their way out in time for such a thing to occur. She could just wait for them to die off...or have Paul committed for the sake of silencing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, all of this was if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was she even basing this conclusion on? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mutterings of a grieving man? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A grieving man with psychic abilities, he might not have realized he was using. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If this truly was something that wasn’t based on his own inability to accept that Emma was gone, then it spelled out a great deal of danger for her position and herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To make matters worse, she’d already signed the papers to release Tom Houston from the brig.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> If Paul suddenly were to realize that Emma and the others were alive, he would certainly tell Tom that his son was alive. They’d stop at nothing until the four people that had been lost were recovered. Then once they did, and John and Xander were discovered, she would be back in the position she’d been in for too long. Of course, that was if they didn’t discover what she’d done first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d attempted to assassinate some of the most prominent minds in this war in a grab at power that she felt no remorse over. If even the slightest bit of evidence had been left behind…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew what she needed to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to keep Tom in the dark and silence Paul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn’t kill him. No. She wouldn’t be driven to do something that would likely cause her more problems than benefit (although it was extremely tempting to do so). Rather, she’d scare him. Give him a taste of the repercussions that would be wrought upon him if he dared to tread a path she didn’t want him to tread. After all, it should be relatively to scare him, under the assumption that his grief hadn’t done as much as a number on him as it appeared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All she needed was an opportunity to do so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All she needed was him to take a step too far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And judging from the most recent footage, she would get her chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hit her buzzer, signaling to her operatives that she had a change of plans, speaking clearly and quietly into the microphone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If he passes the perimeter, bring him in…alive, ” she clarified, “Rattle him, but quietly...alert me as soon as this is accomplished.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, General,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hesitant voice of one of her operatives rang back, before a small beep sounded, signaling that the message was received. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She decided to ignore the hesitant tone of voice that her agents carried with them and sat back in her chair. She didn’t care that most people didn’t agree with her orders. They didn’t have to. What mattered was that they obeyed. Even if people like Lex Foster and Becky Barnes complained, her hold on their lives compelled them to obey and stick to the rules that she had laid down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was not willing to give up on the power that she’d earned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn’t allow the chance that Emma Perkins was alive to compromise that. </span>
</p>
<p>Regardless of whether or not the people she’d tried to eliminate were alive or not, she would make sure that people like Paul Matthews, who were sinking into doubt would not take her power away. </p>
<p>
  <span>The tunnel would stay sealed and guarded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma Perkins, John McNamara, Xander Lee, and Tim Houston would never be seen alive again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d all obey.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> And if they didn’t, she would make them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After not getting much sleep the night before, Emma had found herself staring aimlessly at the wall as the sounds of stones and rocks being broken into and moved away had become a rhythm that almost lulled her to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dream from the night before remained on her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d had many strange dreams that took place in that field, but never before had they featured different places and people, other than Paul and herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O</span>
  <span>f course, some things remained the same; the poppies and cornflowers, the way the sky quickly shifted to a dark crimson when Paul died, feeling the guilt of leaving Paul as he died in her arms. All of those excruciating details made themselves known to her in a nauseating pain in her stomach and a throb at her head. To make matters worse, she couldn’t get his face out of her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>H</span>
  <span>e’d looked so...unsure. Like he wasn’t even sure that he was looking at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sadness that had been in his eyes as he looked at her had been beyond anything she’d ever seen him express. It was a mixture of shock and anguish that she would bet her life she’d never see him wear. It made her heart ache the longer she thought of it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, the sadness he’d worn made sense when he’d spoken. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma’s dead…”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was what he’d said, right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew it was a possibility that people thought they were dead. The fact that PEIP hadn’t made any efforts they knew of from the other side to get in made it very clear that they thought as much. If the chain of command had gone to Schaeffer, then why had they not even considered the fact that they’d survived? Why hadn’t she at the very least dug through the rubble for bodies? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, she knew that the situation above them all was a matter of concern, but at the very least, the loss of two of PEIP’s major assets, John and Xander, would have warranted some concern. At the very least it could have spawned a search. Something just didn’t sit right about everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then, of course, there was the nauseating theory that everyone at PEIP was dead and they’d have nobody to come home to once they’d eventually made it through. That was if they didn’t starve first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was sickening to watch Tim grow noticeably thinner with each passing day as their ration portions and supplies grew thinner and thinner. She made a conscious effort to give Tim as much food as she could spare, but the idea that everything was waning way too quickly didn’t make matters any more comforting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To make matters worse, she had a headache forming on the left side of her face, which meant she was gonna get a migraine and feel like she was gonna throw up. Just another opportunity for her to appear weak to those she needed to be strong for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, there was still the dream…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t any sense of that dream that had seemed like a wistful memory...even the moment with Jane and the real Hidgens had made everything seem like she was living a new memory. Like she wasn’t seeing faces from her past. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another factor that had caused her to raise an eyebrow was the fact that all of them had seemed like they were dressed for a wedding. Hidgens in his sharp tuxedo. Jane in her red bridesmaid dress...and then herself...in that white lace dress…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been carrying a bouquet. A rather unconventional one of just Poppies and Cornflowers...what did that mean? Of course, she was wearing that same dress in the previous dreams, but the sash had always been a sage green. Not that deep blue. She wasn’t sure why she was fixating on it in the ways that she had, she just found it odd that she would be dealing with such specificity in the dream.  It had to have some kind of meaning...right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she was just going crazy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and sat back in her wheelchair, looking down at a collection of seeds she’d found in one of the professor’s labs. The man clearly had no idea on how to organize things because, amidst various seeds for fruit and vegetable plants that would definitely not grow in time for them to be of any use to their small group before their rations ran out, she found various flowers and plants that she would have loved to plant back in the small house she’d shared with Paul. In the rest before this had happened. Back before he’d been taken from her the first time and she’d had to live without him. She’d loved his small house, even before he'd asked her that Christmas morning to be theirs. The house, their cat...but above all, him. When she’d moved in with him, she’d brought with her a whole lot of houseplants (that Socks had loved to play with). She'd started a small garden in their tiny backyard and he’d loved the assortment of flowers, herbs,  and produce she'd planted. On one hand, it provided so much color and life to the pretty straightforward and plain house that Paul had owned, and also saved them a great deal of money on some seasonal produce. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she shuffled through the seed containers like a bunch of cards, she wondered to herself what life would have been like if they’d been allowed to proceed as planned. Maybe if they’d managed to beat Hidgens and make it back before he’d unwittingly unleashed the apocalypse on the world, as Lucy and Chumby had reported. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe she and Paul would be back together, safe and sound. Maybe they would return to her apartment since he probably didn’t have the deed to that small house in this reset. Since everyone at CCRP remembered him, then he might still have his job, so he’d go back to that life he’d chosen, maybe...unless he’d decided that he preferred working for PEIP. She’d have liked to remain working at PEIP. It was far better than working for Beanies and the tyrannical grip of Nora and Zoey. She liked working with Xander, and she liked the work itself, after all, Tom had said it made quite the living for him and Jane when they first got married. Regardless of whatever they decided to do, in this imaginary world where they weren’t forced back underground, they’d still be together and that would be enough. Emma, personally, was not the person for marriage or stuff like that, but she knew that if Paul had asked, she’d never be able to refuse. There was something about him that made her want to abandon everything that the younger version of herself would have wanted. In some ways, the idea of living with herself tied to Paul didn’t seem like such a bad idea. After all, their souls had essentially married them in every single reset they’d been through. Putting a ring on it would only do things like giving them good health insurance, or tax benefits. They essentially were married already in her mind. Even more disgustingly domestic, was the idea that Paul would make a great-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pang of mental and physical agony gave her pause as her sister’s face appeared in her mind again, bringing her thoughts of what could have been to a screeching halt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who was she? Jane?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cut herself off there, she couldn’t think like that. Her body had been wrecked time and time again, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>living in a world where the evil form of Henry Hidgens had forced them apart. There was no return to the life they knew before, nothing would be the same after this. If there even was an ‘after’. No matter how much she might have wanted it, the chances at a disgustingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>life with Paul were almost an impossibility. At this point, she would have preferred </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> life with Paul over nothing at all, and she was fine with that. This was why getting back to him was such a big priority. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which, of course, brought her back to the potential significance of the dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had Hidgens meant when he told her that it was her dream but his reality. What had he meant when he’d implied that she had to stop the nightmare itself from winning? What was the dream trying to show her through its images of Jane? And that singing behind the closed door...what had it meant? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pursue the future, Emmie.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what dream-Jane had said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what did it mean?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all she knew, Jane was something of a seer herself...like Hannah…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>H</span>
  <em>
    <span>oly shit. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah was a seer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens had mentioned a seer.  Someone needing to hear her...to affirm something that someone...a mysterious ‘he’ was in need of her to affirm that Emma was...something. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought about the words Hidgens had spoken. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s hearing you, but the doubt is still there...he needs one to affirm that he is hearing you in order for you to truly be discovered. He needs the seer to hear you as well.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Someone was hearing her…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had to mean Paul...right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart leaped in her chest as she considered this possibility. Paul had an ability, right? Like Lex and Hannah had. Sure, it was different, but it was what led them to Lex when she’d been trapped in Hidgens’ power...that had to mean something, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Hidgens had meant that Paul was hearing her...but doubting that it was her that he’d been hearing, then his actions in the dream made sense...but...that was a dream version of Paul...that wasn’t supposed to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart sank in her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was all wishful thinking. She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth as the realization washed over her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was she doing? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was over-thinking a stupid-ass </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A dream that she’d wanted to have some meaning. Everything else in their world was so fucked-up, so why shouldn’t this also be? Her mind and her trauma were trying to make her have hopes that would only end up crushing her in the end. Naturally, figures of pain and consideration would have been featured in her dream. People like Jane and Hidgens, who’d both had such a big impact on her lives, past and present. Of course, Paul would be there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all a fucking dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t anything that she should take seriously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to focus on the here and now, where her mind belonged. Doing her best to make sure they would live another day. Making sure that they’d get home safely to those who truly mattered in their lives. That meant Paul, Tom, Lex, Hannah, and Ethan.  She couldn’t allow her own messed-up mind to get in the way of what they were so close to accomplishing. She couldn’t. Not now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But still...it had seemed so...</span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the others...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aunt Emma?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was snapped out of her reverie by the small voice of her nephew. She looked up to see him standing in front of her, a small tentative smile on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, buddy?” she smiled, too happy to see that he was capable of smiling in times like these. Tim had always had the brightest smile she’d ever seen on a child. He and Hannah both always took her breath away when she saw how they acted, how they pursued each day. In some ways they made her feel like she was at ease, like the world that had so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>with it was made just a little bit brighter with their smiles.</span>
</p>
<p><span><br/></span>He smiled gently as he got closer, “I was just wondering…” he looked down at the flower seed-packets in her hands, “If I could help you?” </p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled wide and nodded, “Of course!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She passed him a few seeds and he smiled down at them, “Mom could never keep any plant alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She quirked an eyebrow at him as she neatly stacked a small collection of vegetable seeds, “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, ” Tim giggled, “We had a small fern that dried up within the first week of us owning it because we kept forgetting to water it. Mom felt so bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a small tug at her heart, she was reminded of Jane’s smiling face in her dream as she looked down on the toddler version of the boy in front of her, looking at various variations of seeds for roses and pansies. She wished she hadn’t been so angry and stubborn back when he’d been younger. She wished she’d been there for every moment. She wished she were worthy to be called his aunt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss my mom,” Tim said with a small sad smile, “She was the best.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, “I miss her too, bud.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a short moment of silence, Tim looked up at her, “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused for a moment, looking at him, puzzled. In his eyes, both the brown and cloudy ones she could see a look of sympathy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard you last night,” He muttered guiltily, looking down, ”You were saying her name a  lot...her and Uncle Paul’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cursed herself inwardly as he fiddled with the seed-packets in his lap, looking as though he felt he did something wrong. She couldn’t think of anything to say. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>last </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing she’d wanted to do was drag him into her own trauma...and yet, even when she was asleep, she was doing it. She could think of nothing to say as she looked down, guilt welling up in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aunt Emma,” Tim began, whispering gently, “It’s okay if you miss them...I miss them too…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well...Emma certainly felt like the aunt of the year. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>last </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing she wanted was for Tim to be drawn into the aftershocks of her trauma. She was trying to be strong for Tim and yet, here he was, making her feel like</span>
  <em>
    <span> he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the mature adult.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her leg started to hurt as she shamefully looked down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay if you’re sad about your leg too,” He said gently, “I mean...I’m sad about my eye sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her stomach fell in her abdomen as she looked down at her residual limb, the reminder that she would never be able to walk around like she normally had on her own two feet was still a tough pill to swallow. She’d placed the fact on the back burner for now, choosing to focus on more pressing matters at hand, but the reminder was painfully nauseating when it did come. However, her heart could have melted at how earnest his voice sounded. So innocent in spite of all the shit he’d been through. She loved her nephew so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her arms to him, setting down the seeds, “C’mere, buddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled sadly and crawled over to her, careful not to jostle her sensitive leg as he wrapped his arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. She pulled him up so he was sitting on her normal leg, avoiding any painful contact with her residual limb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, they just remained there, holding one another, trying to diffuse the sadness of the situation. She knew that they both were suffering as a result of the fear and loss that they were experiencing. In some ways, she knew that they both were putting on a stiff upper lip for the sake of the other, not wanting to burden anybody with the pain they were dealing with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt stupid for not realizing how much he was holding in. It was evident in the way he held onto her that he was trying to hold back all of his grief for her sake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tim?” she muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed against her shoulder, “Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about your Dad?” she asked softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled back slightly, his eyes widening as small tears bloomed at the base of his eyes, making her heart melt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded vehemently, “Yes, please…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” she began carefully, managing a small smile for his sake, “Go ahead…I’m listening...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just…” he began, his small voice suddenly sounding choked, “I miss my mom...and now that Dad’s not here...I miss him too…” he trailed off, his eyes filling with tears as his chest heaved, “It’s almost like….like he’s with mom…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She suddenly understood his meaning, “Tim…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean...we don’t know that he’s gone…” The boy choked, “It just feels like it...and I’m worried that once we break through…that he’s not gonna be there waiting for us…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart broke for him. He had some of the same fears she had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long had he been holding this back? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tightened her grip around him gently and he looked back up at her, his voice shaky as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, “D-do you think… D-d-dad’s gone?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know how to answer that. On one hand, she had this everlasting hope that paul and all the others would be waiting for them once they broke through, but she knew that life was seldom that easy. If it were, everything would be peachy-keen and not a fucking endless nightmare. As she looked down at her nephew, she could see the fear in his eyes as he looked up at her, the thought of another parent being gone obviously terrifying him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought of Jane’s smiling face again. The pure bliss that had been on her face as she looked at the playing figures of her husband and son. Emma had once thought that her sister was an idiot for settling for the white picket fence type of life, when she had the potential to be one of the greatest minds in the world. Jane was smart and extraordinary and yet, she’d settled for the standard of life. Emma, in her youth, had never been able to understand that, and yet...as the scene from the dream appeared in her mind once more, she could see that Jane did it because she wanted to. In Tom and Tim, Jane had found a home and happiness. Though she knew that Jane and Tom’s marriage was far from perfect, Jane had lived a happy life. Because she loved them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Tom had loved her sister, it was true. In spite of the love he had for Becky that Emma knew would never truly fade, he’d also been in love with Jane. Their marriage hadn’t been a sham as Emma had bitterly thought when Jane told her that she was engaged to Tom Houston. Tom loved his wife and son and felt Jane’s loss just as much as Tim had. But Tom was strong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew her brother-in-law had seen all kinds of shit that he’d never be able to talk about with her completely, but she knew that he could do many things, such as endure. For Tim, he would do anything, that she knew with every fiber of her being. But...then again, there was the matter that it was likely PEIP thought they were all dead. If that had been established, Tim’s alleged loss would have shattered Tom...but he couldn’t be dead...right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want to voice this apprehension to her nephew and shook her head, “No, buddy, I don't…you know why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim shook his head, prompting her further. She inhaled and exhaled sharply, hoping that her next words were the right ones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because your Dad loves you very much, you know that?” she sighed gently, “He would do anything for you. He’s not the kind of man to let anything stand in his way...even the apocalypse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s eyes widened, tears falling faster. As he burrowed into her, she began to worry that she’d said the wrong thing. She was trying to formulate the words of a proper apology, when she heard him mutter the words ‘Thank you’ into her neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hugged her nephew tighter and nodded as tears pricked against the back of her eyes, “Of course, bud...of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few more tears rolled down his face, he pulled back and looked at her, a determined look in his eyes, “You know Uncle Paul loves you that much too, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was taken aback by the statement. It wasn’t so much the words that had been said, but rather the fact that it was coming from Tim. She knew Paul loved her, but the fact that neither of them had been very outward about it in front of Tim before had made the remark strike her deep in her heart. If Tim could see that Paul loved her </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much, then it had to say something about the way they interacted. The fact that Tim could see that...it made her heart melt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The memories of those silently intimate moments she and Paul had shared entered her mind, making her smile to herself. Watching him worry about absolutely everything. Watching the way his brow furrowed and his scrunched-up nose pushed his glasses up further on his face as he worked on weekly reports. Those moments when their hands would brush against one another as they walked side-by-side. The days when they’d both be off, and spend it just cuddling up next to each other, admiring how wonderful it felt to be in one another’s presence. No pressure to talk or do anything in the outside world. Those moments when all that mattered were him and her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had she ever done to deserve them? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she knew it, tears were pouring from her eyes and she managed a small nod. “Yeah...yeah, I know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I mean,” Tim smiled teasingly, as tears continued to pour from his eyes, “He might be a skinny nerd...but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed through her tears, pulling Tim into a tighter hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dream could wait. Even if it was only a dream, the concerning aspects of it could wait for her worries. All that mattered right now was that she had her nephew with her. They were both a little broken and bruised, but that was okay. They had people back home who were waiting for them, and they would make it back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her words were whispered and raspy as she looked back down at her nephew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mentally, she began another letter to Paul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Paul, what did we ever do to deserve Tim as a nephew?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>nephew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To her, he’d been just as much of an uncle to Tim as she had been an aunt. Paul loved hanging out with Tim and the two of them had clicked easily. She loved to watch the two of them nerd out about stuff she didn’t quite get. Images of the three of them playing mario kart appeared in her mind, making her smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim was their nephew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as everything had become theirs when they’d chosen one another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought of it made her smile more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d chosen to have their lives intertwined, which meant that as she fought to get back to him, she was fighting for their life. Sure, she was her own person, just as he was his own person, but they were bonded to one another that every breath they took was for the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Survival wasn’t just a matter of keeping herself alive, anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a matter of keeping him alive, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a way, she knew she was undeserving of his love, and yet, loving him had kept her alive when she’d gone comatose. Loving him had drawn him back from the brink of infection, pulling him back to consciousness. A younger Emma would have gagged at the thought of devoting herself to another person, seeing it more as a chain, pulling her down into an absurdly </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> life. But the more she thought about it, what she shared with Paul was less of a chain, and more of a shared life. A sense of freedom that came with everything they shared, and she was willing to share her life with him. What was once his and what was once hers was now theirs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their sorrows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their burdens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their fears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their joys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their triumphs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their love.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Their lives. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she held her nephew, she was reminded of what it was that she had to return to. The life that was in reality. Not in any fucked-up world her subconscious invented. Not in a world where she was confronted by the faces of her professor and sister. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to remember that this was what mattered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>And she needed to stay in it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky swallowed hard as she approached the brig doors. When she’d received these summons, she wasn't sure whether or not she should accept.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Against every fiber of her being, which demanded that she stay as far away as possible from Tom Houston, something told her that he was in need of her. That she would have to take action. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, she knew she wasn’t at his beck and call, but at the very least, if he needed her help in any form of fashion, some small part of her leaped at the opportunity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of her felt pathetic for heeding it. Part of her knew that she should have been done with Tom Houston the moment he’d said what he said...but she knew it was spoken in anger and grief. She had been talking to a grieving and anguished Tom Houston. Not the Tom Houston that would dopily stare at her from across the classroom only to stammer when asked a question. Not the Tom Houson that hulkingly protected all of the underclassmen when upperclassmen developed a superiority complex. Not the Tom Houston that was 6’2 and towered over most of the class, but was really open-hearted and happy, if a little bit gruff at first. Not the Tom Houston that she’d fallen in love with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, these times were hard, and they were all hurting. What kind of a person would she be if she didn’t grant grace and forgiveness when it was due? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and pulled open the door. Rodney had given her the go-ahead as he traded places with another guard, telling her that he was waiting for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, Becky, here goes nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she stepped into the greasy and grimy excuse for a brig, her eyes fell on him instantly and her heart sank into her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite being far more well-kept than he had been when she’d been tending to him all those weeks ago, she could see that he was noticeably more gaunt and exhausted, almost as if an artist had painted him in shades of grey as opposed to his usual warmth and life. He didn’t notice her at first, so she just stared at him. His beard was obviously trimmed recently, and his haircut back a little bit since she last saw him. While he was back in his Captain’s uniform, she noticed that the shirt sagged just a little bit, and the way that he stood was slightly hunched-over, like he still wasn’t used to his usual militant stance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind her, the door she’d forgotten about slammed shut, making her let out a small yelp at the large noise and he turned to face her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Becky…” he whispered, his eyes going wide, “I didn’t think you’d-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to,” she whispered, taking in his appearance even more. Even through the thick glass pane that separated him before he was to be released, she felt like she was staring at a caged animal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unknowing of anything else to say she sighed lamentably, “Oh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down, “Becky...you didn’t have to come...you didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do anything I asked...I just wanted to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, almost as if he couldn’t think of the right words to say. He looked down and swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanted to...what, Tom?” she prompted gently, taking a seat in a chair that sat opposite the glass, not taking her eyes off of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-uh…” he ran a hand through his hair, “It’s just been...really…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice broke as he went on, tears appearing in his eyes as he spoke, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hard...</span>
  </em>
  <span>since...you know...and I’ve-uh...I’ve acted terribly...towards you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed hard again, “I guess what I’m trying to say, Becky, is that I’m sorry...for pushing you away...for saying the things that I did...and just…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgive you,” she said without any hesitation, making his eyes widen and a tear fall from his eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“R-” he seemed like he was speechless, like the idea of forgiveness being that easy, “Really?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt a small lump form in her throat as she smiled and nodded, “Really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After...everything I did…” he said, his voice cracking, “All that I said-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t you,” she shook her head, “That was the grief and the pain.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down guiltily, “But I still made those choices…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did,” she nodded, “But you made them because you were alone in your grief...you can’t do that again,” she stood and went closer to the glass, “Tom, look at me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reluctantly, he looked up, his eyes filled with a sadness she couldn’t quite place. Her heart shattered at the defeat that filled them. They were so unlike the man that she remembered, but people seldom were, especially after going through several years of trauma and pain. But still...at the base of it all, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom Houston. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t do this to yourself,” she said gently, “You can’t let yourself be alone anymore...you’re not alone..I’m here, Lex and Ethan are here, Hannah’s here...Paul is too...you’re not alone in this anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down like he didn’t believe it, “I’m serious, Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was punishing himself, she knew. It was the way he had the tendency to do things when he was wrought with guilt. In High school, his guilt about not being able to bring his Aunt Cynthia back from the dead had made him self-destructive for many months, making it difficult to get through to him. Of course she knew that the death of a spouse and a child was different from that, but she was willing to do anything to walk him away from those tendencies again. She’d done it once, and she would do it all over if it meant that he was safe and healthy. Eventually, she would make sure she’d see him happy again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he looked up at her, his eyes filled with a sadness she hated seeing on his face, “It’s not gonna be easy...you know...moving forward...but you gotta take it one day at a time, Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It hurts…” he whispered, not entirely meeting her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she whispered gently, “It’ll be like that for a while...but you’re not alone, Tom...we won’t let you be alone in this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at her, finally meeting his eyes. Just for a moment she was transported back to days where they would watch movies at the drive in from the back of his Mustang. Days where they would ditch pep-rallies early so they could be together under the bleachers. Fays where they’d drive to the nearby diner after a football game, just the two of them. The ‘it’ couple in high school.  Once he’d apparently been recruited for PEIP and she’d met Stanley, she knew her life was just too good to be true. And yet, here she was, finding her heart pounding inside her chest as she met those dopey eyes of his. God, she used to love running her hands through those russet curls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, they were much older now. Yes, they both had seen and been through so much. Yes, things would likely never be the same again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But somehow, in that moment, it felt like nothing had changed at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> A small beep sounded from behind her as the brig door was unlocked. In walked Rodney, clearly not relieved from his post as he’d apparently previously thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Captain Houston,” he said with a small tired smile, nodding at Becky as he walked past her to the control panel by the window, “You ready to be out and about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom managed a nod, not looking away from Becky as Rodney walked to the panel and typed a few numbers into the keypad, before removing a key from his pocket and sliding it into a keyhole and turning it methodically. A beep sounded and the smeared glass panel slid away into a slot in the wall, leaving nothing but air standing between her and Tom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re free to go, Tom,” Rodney smiled, “Enjoy being out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom smiled slightly, still not looking away from Becky, “Thanks, Rodney, you’re a good guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man nodded and took his leave, looking exhausted as he exited the room, leaving her with Tom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom…” she whispered, not knowing what to say other than his name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm?” he hummed, taking a small step forward, looking very much like a toddler taking his first steps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I…” she trailed off, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, “Can I hug you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened again and he managed a quick nod, opening his arms to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like she was returning home, Becky almost jumped forward into his arms, hugging him tightly and burrowing her face in his shoulder. Almost as if a dam had broken, Tom began to shake and sob in her arms, the pain and sorrow from the months past leaving him the tighter she hugged him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They remained like that for a while, as the grief, exhaustion, confusion, and all of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>weight </span>
  </em>
  <span>that had just hung on their shoulders was exchanged, their burdens being shared through a single embrace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, she missed this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They might not have been those kids they’d once been. Those idiot kids who’d thought the world was going to be easy. These adults had seen so much pain and blood and had gotten much more than they had bargained for in life. They were both a long way from Hatchetfield High, having been separated for several years only to find themselves in one another’s arms again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However long it had been and however much they’d seen...Becky Barnes and Tom Houston knew right then and there that they’d never let each other go again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken a lot for Paul to get through this day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After getting little to no sleep, he’d been exhausted all throughout the day and had been unable to avoid any annoying small talk with Ted that he’d only haphazardly listened to. He couldn’t get the dream out of his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d just been wandering a wood that looked as though it had been painted in shades of Cranberry, so different from the Witchwoods, which were commonly featured in his nightmares, until he’d heard Emma’s voice. It was so clear, just like he’d been hearing it when he was awake. He’d been filled with panic and searched the woods furiously, searching for the source of her voice, finding her at the center of the lovely clearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, she was beautiful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was well aware of the fact that no dream his subconscious could conjure would ever be able to capture the full beauty of Emma Perkins, and yet, when he’d seen her in the dream, wearing that beautiful white lace gown and smiling brightly at him like she was overjoyed to just be in his presence, his breath had been taken away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But...she was dead...he had to remind himself of that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d tried to, but the dream-Emma had been confused when he spoke.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emma?” he repeated her name as he looked down at her small form standing in front of him, his arms stiff around her. He couldn’t believe that he was looking down at that face he’d fallen in love with on the daily. She was so goddamn breathtaking.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She smirked up at him, making his heart melt. The small dimples forming as she smiled up at him, every detail almost perfectly capturing the smug energy Emma had when she was about to use a pet name with him,  “Yeah...nerd, it’s me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Naturally, she went with ‘nerd’ as her pet name of choice. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, Paul. She’s dead. This isn’t real. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Every remainder brutally blazoned across his mind as he looked down at her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But-but...y-you died…” he whispered, trying to remind himself of the fact. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” she appeared to study his face intently, like she always had when she knew something was bothering him, “Paul...what do you mean…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is a dream…” he forced himself to tear his gaze away from her as he tried to convince himself of the truth, burying his face in his hands,  “You’re not real...I’m gonna wake up and you’ll disappear...Emma...the real Emma’s dead…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The hideous truth repeated itself on his tongue, trying to remind himself of everything that was real, “You’re not real...Emma’s gone.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“N-No...no, Paul,” she cried, pulling his hands into her own, her soft touch warming his hands and sending electricity up his spine like it always had,  “No….I’m real, I’m alive...I promise….and I’m gonna make it back to you…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul’s eyes stung as tears built up , his own guilt leaving him, begging his subconscious to take the painful reminder away, “Emma, I’m sorry you’re gone…” fat tears began to roll down his cheeks as he looked at her, “I shouldn’t have let you go...I’m so sorry…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m real, Paul!” she cried, cupping his face gently as tears of her own began to fall, confusion and anguish filling those brown eyes he’d loved to get lost in,  “Look at me! I’m still the woman you fell in love with and I- wait….this is part of the dream...isn’t it? I’m supposed to feel guilt here? This is where I feel sorry for everything?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t understand what she meant as he continued to cry, watching the confusion dance across her expression .</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She took his hands in her own and looked him in the eye as more tears fell from her eyes, “Paul, I’m so sorry for leaving...But I swear to you…” she choked on the sobs that were building in her throat, “I promise you...I’m alive...and I’m coming back to you...any day now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shortly after she’d said that, an unbearable pain had built up in his chest and he was dragged from the dream, waking up in his own bed with a heap of confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normally, he was able to push the nightmares of Emma dying and the memories free from his brain so he could work on autopilot, completing everything in his day-to-day life with precision that he didn’t even notice. He just did what work he needed to get done and ignored the details, trying to keep the pain at bay, trying to silence the scream that had signified to him that the love of his life was dead, which echoed in his brain on a day-to-day basis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this one...this was different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was it sticking with him in the ways that it was? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normally he didn’t dwell on his dream too much, he left that to the voices, which he was still hearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, not voices. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her voice. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s what prompted him to walk to the sixth floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something wasn’t right, and he needed to find out what it was. It was like some small impractical part of his soul demanded that he go to the closet, in spite of what consequences that Schaeffer claimed would be coming his way. He didn’t care. He needed to silence the ghosts. iIf not to silence them, then to get answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was Emma’s voice echoing in his ears so clearly and so often? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he hearing her voice above anything else?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why had the dream left him feeling like he was missing several crucial details to this puzzle of a life he was living? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he indulging these idiotic hopes? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A large part of his soul had wanted him to believe that the dream-version of Emma was right. His soul leaped out and begged him to believe that somewhere out there, the real Emma was fighting to make it back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it was impossible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma was dead. Everyone he knew told him so, imploring him to accept this fact and move onward, and yet, every single fiber of his being insisted that they were wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know, but he was going to find out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t necessarily know what was going to happen. He didn’t know what he expected to happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he knew was some part of him told him to go to that fateful closet. Whatever happened from there on out depended entirely on fate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fate. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since when did he believe in that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Since you met Emma, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mind answered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meeting Emma </span>
  <em>
    <span>had to have been </span>
  </em>
  <span>fate. He’d accepted that the second she’d told him her name. He’d believed that maybe he’d known her in another lifetime (which, as he learned in his endeavors in the Black and White, was actually true). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, so maybe not fate. But fate had seemed like such a much nicer option than the dealings of the Black and White, and the monsters which roamed in the world above. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless, he’d known the second he’d met Emma, that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find her in some way. And if she was still alive (as his hope illogically insisted), he would find her again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew how unlikely it was, but he needed to at the very least find some proof that Emma had truly been extinguished from their world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach dropped as he rounded the corner and the door came into view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much like it had last time, his hand began to shake, tingling sensations being sent up and down his arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to do this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t allow himself to back out of it again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a deep sigh, he began to walk towards the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could do this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if he couldn’t, he knew he had to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed answers about what had happened to his soulmate. The love of his life. The person whose voice he was hearing on the daily, now. The person who’d seemed so real in his dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed those answers desperately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was about a yard away from the door when something sharp and hard slammed painfully into the back of his head, knocking him to the ground with a yelp before he knew how to react. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face was pressed up against the cool floor as black spots danced in his vision. He writhed against the ground as pain ran its course, sending shivers up and down his spine. His head throbbed as he twisted over on his side, suddenly feeling very heavy, like sleep was dragging him down into its depths once more. As shadows tugged at the corners of his vision, he was able to make out the butt of a rifle, before it was brought painfully against his skull once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the world was black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have been listening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don’t you just love it when your antagonist puts two-and-two together before your heroes do?</p>
<p>Emma needs a hug and a Paul and some therapy. Also, she and Tim deserve to be protected.</p>
<p>Here, have some Barneston fluff😊 That’ll certainly distract from the coming angst in the next section.</p>
<p>Oh no. Paul...*screaming*</p>
<p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!!! I'd be happy to answer any questions you have or just hear from you in general!!!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read what I've got!!!</p>
<p>Have a fantastic day and please wear a mask!!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Forever Feels Like Home, Sitting All Alone Inside Your Head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul gets a very rude awakening.<br/>Hannah tries so hard to make sense of it all.<br/>Xander is desperate.<br/>Ethan is determined.<br/>Emma has another dream.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THIS ONE IS SO LONG, I'M SO SORRY!!!</p><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ’Through Glass’ by Stone Sour.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!: Schaeffer, brutality,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 5th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>He awoke to a blinding white light in his eyes, making him squint as throbbing in his head announced itself most acutely. </p><p>As he tried to focus his vision, his ears ringing as he forced himself up into a sitting position, he realized very quickly that he wasn’t in his apartment…</p><p>He hadn’t made it back to his apartment, had he?</p><p>No...he’d been trying to go somewhere else...right?</p><p>As Paul’s blurred vision began to focus he tried to remember what had happened. Where he'd been before he fell asleep.</p><p>A painful throb at the back of his head indicated that he either went to bed with a headache or he hadn't fallen asleep on his own. Judging from the fact he was fairly certain he wasn't in his own apartment, he figured the latter was more likely.</p><p>The whining and ringing in his ears began again as he tried to force himself into a standing position, finding himself unsuccessful and flopping down where he’d previously been laying, which he found to be an uncomfortable board-like structure covered in shitty blankets. </p><p>As his vision finally began to focus, he was reminded of where he’d been. </p><p>
  <em> Emma. The closet. He needed answers.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was in desperate need of some kind of answer...so he’d gone to the closet, hoping he could find something...anything that would indicate that Emma was either dead or alive. He’d heard her voice so clearly in the day, and that dream… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The dream.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The confusion on her face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The anguish it caused him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The hope that somewhere out there she might still be alive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d been going to the closet and then… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d been hit in the head. Hard.  </em>
</p><p>He raised a shaky hand to the back of his head, gingerly touching the offending area where his head complained and screamed at him before wincing. He was fairly sure that some of his hair had been crusted over in dried blood. He flinched and hissed through his teeth. What had he done to get hit in the head like that? </p><p>    Oh, right. </p><p>    Intrusion upon a restricted area. </p><p>    A restricted area...that was a storage closet. </p><p>    And for this, he deserved two blows to the head and a splitting headache while being in a place he didn’t recognize because his vision was still fucked? </p><p>    “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” an annoyingly familiar voice chimed from somewhere he couldn’t quite identify. </p><p>He forced his eyes open again and watched as blurs of black and grey molded into the shape of June Schaeffer, standing across from him, an odd expression on her face which looked...vaguely amused. </p><p>As the world around him set into distinctive shapes and he was able to finally see his surroundings clearly, he could see what looked like what was supposed to be white walls splattered in shades of rust and grey, there was a dilapidated sink and toilet sitting in the corner opposite him, which made him want to gag from the unsanitary look of it. He was sitting on a bed that looked like it was just a wooden platform that sheets and a blanket had been thrown haphazardly on top of it with little care. As his eyes followed up to finally look at Schaeffer, he found that there was a thick pane of glass standing between him and her. </p><p>“What-” he slurred, hating how dry and scratchy his throat felt, “What the hell-ah!” </p><p> Another hard blow struck him across the back of his head, making his vision spin, and he held his hands out to steady himself as the pain ran its course. </p><p>He looked up and found that there was an armored soldier standing beside him, a look of apology on his face as he withdrew his hand. Paul brought a hand up to rub at his head as the agony continued to make itself known. His head hurt so bad, and the new blow certainly had done nothing to help. </p><p>“Do you know why you’re here, Matthews?” Schaeffer asked condescendingly as she began to pace in front of the glass. </p><p>He shook his head and muttered under his breath, his anger at the gall of the woman simmering beneath the surface. Part of him wanted to cry, but another part of him was furious at the world.</p><p>“I don’t know…” he muttered through panting breaths, “You had a brig quota to fulfill?” </p><p>Schaeffer chuckled lightly and snapped, prompting the soldier to strike Paul again in the head, knocking him off the makeshift cot and to the floor. Blood poured from Paul’s nose as he curled in on himself. </p><p>Over the ringing in his ears he could hear Schaeffer click her tongue. </p><p>“I’m afraid that’s not just it,” she crooned, “You’re here because you violated a perimeter I set...and warned you, in-person, of the consequences that  would occur if you broke it.”</p><p>“You set a perimeter?” Paul scoffed through the pain, “Maybe you should have set up some signs to indicate they were-”</p><p>He was cut off as another blow hit him hard at the back of his head once more, making him cry out in pain as his vision swam. His head was throbbing as blood poured from his nose and unconsciousness begged him to join it. He refused, forcing himself to remain awake as he glowered up at the smug face of Schaeffer. </p><p>What did she want from him? </p><p>From the meeting a few days ago, to what was happening now, he was fairly certain  that the woman had been watching him. While he had no evidence to back it all up, he was sure, from the way he’d been knocked out and dragged away and suddenly being treated like this...she had to want something from him...but what? </p><p>Hesitantly, he looked up at her, “What do you want from me?” </p><p>Something flickered in Schaeffer’s gaze as she regarded him. She took a seat in the chair across from him and peered down at him with a vindictive smirk.</p><p>“You’ve been hearing Emma’s voice...huh?” she said, staring down at him. </p><p>His heart dropped in his chest. </p><p>How did she know that?</p><p>The only person he’d told about that was Bill...and maybe Hannah. To be honest, he wasn’t so sure. Bill wasn’t the kind of person to go around blabbering about people’s painful secrets, and Hannah would stay as far away from Schaeffer as she could. Schaeffer had to have had somebody following him or monitoring his every move. </p><p>He didn’t know how to respond as she went on, “Honestly, Matthews, it’s pathetic...you clinging on so <em> desperately </em>to the memory of someone long gone. A failure of a woman-”</p><p>“<em> Don’t you dare </em>-” he was cut off by another painful blow before the anger in his voice that he couldn’t explain made its way off his tongue. </p><p>Schaeffer slipped off of the chair and knelt in front of him through the glass. Her eyes locked on him as if she were a predator acknowledging her prey. </p><p>“A failure of a woman...an agent…” she crooned, “Honestly if that <em> bitch </em> had succeeded in her mission, we’d still have General John McNamara with us...The fact that you’re honoring her memory is <em> disgusting.” </em></p><p>Anger filled Paul’s veins as he looked at her smug face. </p><p>“<em> Her memory deserves more honor than you do, bitch, </em>” Paul snarled before he realized what he was actually thinking. </p><p>There were many things in this world that he was not going to fight for, but he wouldn’t sit by and allow Emma’s name to be slandered. He should have considered the implications however, as  a series of painful kicks lodged in his back and his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making him curl in on himself even more, unable to breathe as the pain wrought its way through him, even making the old wounds he’d sustained when he’d been pulled into the Black and White ache painfully. He couldn’t bring himself to care.</p><p>If this was his punishment so he could avoid forgetting that he’d ever loved Emma Perkins, he’d live through it a thousand times. </p><p>Once the kicking stopped and he was allowed to breathe (which really came out in a series of raspy coughs), the window pane slid open and the soldier stepped out. It slid shut again and Schaeffer was left alone by the soldier, smirking down at Paul’s bleeding and bruised frame. </p><p>“<em> Emma Perkins </em> ,” she began,  acid in her tone, “ <em> ...is dead. </em>”</p><p>Somehow, hearing her say that convinced him otherwise. The anger that grew in his chest that mixed with the twister of emotions and pain that had been brewing in his heart for the previous three months felt like it had hit its acme. She, the General of a shady covert organization with a thirst for power, was trying to convince him that the love of his life was dead...but in a way that was so different from the usual condolences. Why would his going near the site where Emma had supposedly died result in this?</p><p>“The sooner you let go of her memory, Matthews,” she snarled, “The happier you’ll be.” </p><p>“Wh-What are you trying to keep me from?” he asked, hating how shaky and weak his voice sounded, “What d-do you w-want from me?” </p><p>She smiled slightly, making his stomach drop. In a series of fast-paced movements, the glass pane slid open again and he was hoisted up slightly by her arm. Before he had time to realize that she’d entered the cell, her fist connected with his face one, two, three, four, five times, sending blood spewing out of his mouth and nose as he felt like his face had been bludgeoned. </p><p>If he screamed, he couldn’t hear it, but judging from the look of satisfaction on Schaeffer’s face as she dropped his limp form to the ground again, he had. Her eyes were filled with nothing but malevolence as she watched him crumple to the ground pathetically, he curled in on himself.</p><p>“You got that?” she questioned. </p><p>He wasn’t so sure that he got the message she wanted him to receive, but the fact that he curled in tighter on himself seemed to satisfy her. She stepped over him and walked through the glass panel. </p><p>“You’ll stay here for a week, Matthews,” she spoke clearly as she walked through the open brig doors, “Enjoy your stay.”</p><p>With that, she was gone. </p><p>He was shaking as the pain and bruises made themselves evident, making him feel like his bones ached. </p><p>That was expected, though. He <em> did </em>just get the shit kicked out of him. </p><p>He didn’t know if minutes or hours passed as he lay still against the floor, trying to ward off the pain in his body, but after a while, he forced himself to sit up, leaning awkwardly against the wall and the corner of the cot. His face was caked in blood and even the action of opening his eyes was painful. He tried not to think of the times he’d been beat up as a kid. By bullies or by his father, the ache in his muscles was a familiar one. And once again, he felt helpless. Pathetic. As if he was still that small kid getting picked on because his eyes were too big. Or as if he’d accidentally dropped a dish which resulted in his old man grabbing the belt. </p><p>Regardless, he still felt powerless. </p><p>What had he done? </p><p>What was his crime? </p><p>Why was Schaeffer punishing him? </p><p>She’d given him an excuse, but he knew it was bullshit. </p><p>There was no way that passing over a barrier would warrant this treatment. </p><p>And why would she bring up Emma? </p><p>Emma was dead, he knew, but Schaeffer reiterating that painful truth had to have some more depth to it. If she had truly had him followed and surveilled upon, then something of significance had happened that endangered Schaeffer in some way. He just couldn’t think of what. </p><p>He winced as he looked down on the ground and saw that the dirty white floor  was stained with his blood. He wiped at his face and found that warm blood and tears were still dripping down it. </p><p>How long had he been crying? </p><p>As he leaned against the bed, trying to avoid movement as his ribs and head protested at any form of movement, he tried to think of Emma. </p><p>She always calmed him down when he felt like he was at the center of a storm that would blow him over and rip him to shreds.</p><p>Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes would scan over him like she knew exactly what he was thinking in that moment, all of it had made the time he had her in his life seem like everything was going to be okay. When he was with her, he felt like he was home, and now that she was gone...he didn’t have a home. </p><p>Maybe he didn’t know what it was that Schaeffer wanted from him, but he knew that it had something to do with Emma, and he wouldn’t let that slide.</p><p>He’d let Schaeffer think he was weak, and he’d spend the week in the brig looking as pathetic as he felt, but if there was something going on that concerned the love of his life he would figure it out. For one thing, Schaeffer had been so insistent that she was dead...so insistent that he stay away from the door. If he’d opened it, he didn’t even want to know where he’d be right now. </p><p>What was Schaeffer trying to hide? </p><p>And what did Emma have to do with it. </p><p>His stomach filled with bile and he felt nauseous as he thought of what the self-proclaimed General had said, filling him with anger and sadness. Schaeffer had essentially blamed the loss of John and Xander on Emma. Anyone with sense knew that it wasn’t true. Emma had chosen to go on the mission to save Tim. Saving Tim had been her mission, and she’d taken it on with no hesitation. Love John and Xander as she may have, their return was not her responsibility. The fact that Schaeffer had so slandered Emma’s name shamelessly made his blood boil in a way that he wasn’t sure he’d been capable of feeling. </p><p>Emma deserved better than that. </p><p>Emma deserved better than to have been killed in the way she had been. </p><p>That was, of course...if she was, in-fact, dead. </p><p>    He knew it was foolish to hope that she was out there somewhere, that the answers he’d been searching for had actually been that she was alive and well...trapped behind rocks and stone, but he knew that it was unlikely. He’d heard her scream and then he could hear her no more. Her voice had been extinguished no matter how hard he’d tried to listen for her. There was nothing to indicate that she was still alive...and yet the workings of his own mind insisted otherwise. </p><p>    Maybe he was crazy for having the hope that Emma and his friends were still alive. </p><p>    Maybe he was stupid for indulging such foolish dreams. </p><p>    Maybe he was paranoid for believing Schaeffer was hiding something from him. </p><p>    But nevertheless, he’d never stop fighting until he found out what was being hidden. He would find out what had <em> really </em>happened to Emma if it killed him. </p><p>    John and Xander deserved justice.</p><p>    Tim deserved justice. </p><p>    Emma deserved justice. </p><p>And he’d stop at nothing to make sure they got it. </p><p>---</p><p>    Hannah hadn’t known what to think when she’d heard Paul screaming in pain. It was faint and silent, but she knew it was him, and she knew he was hurting. </p><p>    The first time she’d heard him, it had been right before the curfew bell had rang. It had been brief, a small yelp, but when Hannah tried to read him, she could see shades of red and black, blending together and making her head hurt as she tried to see what was happening. She tried not to let it occupy her mind, to which she was mildly unsuccessful, and went through the next few hours normally, eating dinner in silence and going to bed. It was almost three in the morning when she’d heard it again, each sound filling her with anger and cutting her to the core. She’d heard too many members of her family get hurt without her able to do anything about it, and yet, there they were again. </p><p>    The notion of it filled her with indignance as she sat up in bed, listening in, trying to find context as to what was happening to him. Her heart pounded in her chest, she just prayed she didn’t have to listen to his death throes as she had with Emma. </p><p>    Tears streamed down her face more and more as each cry erupted from her friend. Every part of her soul begged her to do something about it, something that would take the pain away. He’d been so kind to her in times where he was hurting and he didn’t deserve whatever torment he was being given. </p><p>    She resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears to block out the sounds of Paul’s ragged breathing, the sound of another human suffering making her feel small and weak. She couldn’t stand it, but she knew she had to listen. Something important was happening and if she didn’t pay attention, she would get blocked off. She couldn’t allow Webby to take anyone else from her. So she listened, crying silently. </p><p>    It was Schaeffer. </p><p>    Schaeffer was hurting her family. </p><p>    Anger rose in her small chest as she listened to the woman speak, sounding like she was all too satisfied with having trapped Paul in her grasp. She could think of several words Lex would have used to describe the woman, words she didn’t dare use. </p><p>    The woman’s words were static, not entirely something she could understand but she could hear one word. A name. </p><p>    Emma. </p><p>    What did Emma have to do with this? </p><p>    If the woman was using Emma’s name to hurt Paul, then a whole lot of Schaeffer’s character was made clear to Hannah, but something told her that it had a whole lot more significance to it than just taunting Paul. </p><p>    Instead of reaching out for Schaeffer’s words, which faded thankfully with Paul’s pain she could sense, she tried to reach for his. Trying to find out what exactly had happened. Why he was hurting. Why Schaeffer was hurting him. </p><p>    Instead, she found contemplation. Several words she couldn’t quite reach out and grab hold of, were circulating around in his brain in a pattern that she could only see as one of immense confusion. Something was prompting him to think like this...think through the pain which she could sense was powerful. She only managed to grab a few words the more he thought.</p><p> <em> Cave-in.  </em></p><p> <em> Lost.  </em></p><p> <em> Emma.  </em></p><p> <em> Doubt.  </em></p><p> <em> Hiding.  </em></p><p> <em> Emma.  </em></p><p> <em> Lie. </em></p><p> <em> Dead.  </em></p><p> <em> Emma.  </em></p><p> <em> Truth?  </em></p><p> <em> Trust? </em></p><p> <em> Emma. </em></p><p>    In the end, everything came back to Emma. But what did it mean? </p><p>    What was Paul thinking?</p><p>    She tried to grant him his privacy after Emma had been lost. She didn’t want to read his thoughts unless she was certain he was going to hurt himself or needed her help. She knew Paul valued his privacy, and she wouldn’t violate it, but something revolving around Emma was circulating in his brain and she couldn’t quite understand why. </p><p>    Of course, part of it was grief and missing Emma...but there was still that sense that she couldn’t avoid that it went beyond that. </p><p>    What was he doubting?</p><p>    She finally locked onto a thought that was coherent and she could understand completely. </p><p>    <em> What was Schaeffer trying to hide? And what did Emma have to do with it?  </em></p><p>Her eyes widened as she considered Schaeffer. Letting go of her hold on Paul’s thoughts she searched intently for Schaeffer’s thoughts again, black and red spots danced in her vision as she found the woman’s thoughts. </p><p>    <em> She could see her in her mind. The woman walking towards her abandoned office in the early morning, purpose in her step as she walked. Her expression was one of contempt, and her thoughts were loud. Hannah covered her ears as words blared in her mind. Words and fragments of sentences that almost didn’t make sense to her.   </em></p><p> <em> Silence Paul.  </em></p><p> <em> Cover the...no one knows...will.  </em></p><p> <em> Hannah could sense her anger, her anxiety as she watched the woman walk to her desk, throwing open a few drawers and drawing papers up out of them, pouring over them with a tenacious regard which made a chill run up Hannah’s spine.  </em></p><p>
  <em> What was she doing?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Hannah could try to peer from a different vantage point in the Black and White to see what the papers read, Schaeffer quickly crumpled them up, cursing under her breath.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The woman was hiding something, that much was clear. But much like Paul must have been questioning in the moments while he was beaten and bruised, she couldn’t understand just what the woman was hiding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The woman quickly walked over to something that resembled an old-fashioned furnace in the corner of the room and  withdrew a cigarette lighter from her pocket, she reached over and grabbed the papers from the desk and quickly lit them, dropping them into the cavity, watching the embers and cinders dance as fire consumed the only chance Hannah had at finding what she was hiding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a satisfied sigh, Schaeffer stood looking down at the burning papers for only another moment before she walked to a buzzer at her desk. She pressed it a few times before an exhausted ‘yes’ sounded from the other end.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Martin,” Schaeffer barked, “I want to make sure Paul Matthews is under constant guard until his week’s sentence is up...after that, I still want him to be followed.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah’s heart dropped.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’d had Paul followed?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What did she want with him?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She wasn’t given the chance to consider this as Schaeffer continued talking.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I also want there to be guards positioned around the storage closet on level six, you know the one?” She said concisely, “No one goes in, do you understand?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Understood.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, and another thing, Martin,” Schaeffer spoke, “If you want to send in Terrence or anybody else in to rattle Matthews throughout the week, you’ll hear no complaints from me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  The other voice sounded confused, “I-uh...I don’t understand, General…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer sighed and raised a hand to her temple, “I mean you should beat the man up enough that he doesn’t become a problem for us again.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was silence on the other end, making Hannah certain she could hear her own heartbeat and Schaeffers as she watched the woman’s face grow annoyed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “With-uh...with respect, General” the other voice spoke, the man hesitant as he considered his words carefully, “What has the man done to-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you questioning my decision, Peter Martin?” Schaeffer growled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “N-No, ma’am,” the man spoke, his voice shaky as Schaeffer glared down at the buzzer. Hannah felt sorry for Peter Martin, whoever he was, but she admired the fact that he had some form of courage to question the actions of his superior, “Not...not at all! I’m just saying that it seems a little excessive to be punishing a man for one offense like this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer let out an annoyed sigh and bit down on her lip leaning forward. In some ways, her expression was one that Hannah had seen on Lex’s boss, Frank, just before he made some remark about her being the ‘r-slur’ and how Lex wasn’t going to go anywhere in life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Might I remind you, Private Martin,” Schaeffer sighed, “That your wife...that lovely redhead nurse... Pollyanna, was it?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When there was no response Schaeffer groaned, “Martin, is that your wife’s name?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes...Yes, ma’am. She was named for the novel...”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Right, well...your wife, Pollyanna,” Schaeffer interrupted, “Is also under the benefits program associated with survivors...right?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The man on the other end’s voice was hesitant, and Hannah heard a defeated sigh, “Yes, ma’am.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And if you were to get detained for disobeying orders or impertinence,” Schaeffer continued, “She wouldn’t see any benefits at all, yes?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes...ma’am…” The man muttered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So, it would be in your best interest to do as you’re told, lest you’d rather find yourself in the brig with him?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The other end was silent for a while, making Hannah hope that perhaps some people in the world weren’t going to take the shit that Schaeffer threw at them.  </em>
</p><p> <em> Schaeffer clicked her tongue, “Martin? That would be in your best interest, yes?”  </em></p><p> <em> Hannah shook her head, hoping that the man would say ‘no’, but instead, was met with a very silent and very regretful ‘Yes, ma’am’.  </em></p><p> <em> Schaeffer clapped her hands together, “Wonderful! I’ll expect full reports of each day, Martin...and make them thorough.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Hannah didn’t even bother to stay to listen to the sadistic woman’s next few words.   </em>
</p><p>She was back in her room, staring blankly at the wall and rocking herself back and forth as tears rolled down her face. </p><p>She couldn’t even begin to grapple at the many threads that were just dangling down ceaselessly in front of her face. She couldn’t weave them together to find out what was happening. She couldn’t find out what type of tapestry was meant to be formed, the patterns and pictures completely escaping her.  </p><p>She tried to think straight. Trying to see what exactly the words and colors Schaeffer and Paul presented her with were trying to convey. What did they know? What was prompting Paul to be hurt like this? Why could Hannah only feel his fear and pain instead of his coherent thoughts? </p><p>There was so much anger and pain surrounding this, and somehow Schaeffer was masterfully orchestrating it. </p><p>Something told her it had to do with the wall she kept hitting every time she tried to listen to Lucy and Chumby. </p><p>So...not only was Schaeffer hiding something. </p><p>    But whatever Webby was hiding also had something to do with it.</p><p>    What was in that cave that Schaeffer was willing to beat Paul into avoiding, and Webby would threaten her for trying to access? </p><p>Something was wrong, and she was unable to figure out how. </p><p>But she had to. </p><p>She wouldn’t allow her family to be broken apart any more than it already had. </p><p>“Hannah?”</p><p>    She was snapped out of her reverie to see a groggy-looking Lex standing in the doorway of her and Ethan’s bedroom, her eyes watching her in concern. </p><p>“You okay?” her sister’s voice was scratchy as she walked over and sat down beside her on the couch bed. </p><p>Hannah felt hot tears roll down her cheeks as she stared up at her sister. </p><p>Lexi could sense the energies of the Black and White. She could pull things from the deepest void and recover them to the light once more. She was more powerful than Hannah could even begin to comprehend. Lexi had to know that something was wrong. </p><p>Instead of asking her sister this directly she tilted her head to the side, “You got up…” </p><p>Lex nodded, “Yep...something just didn’t feel right, y’know?” </p><p>Hannah leaned into her sister’s side, “Nothing feels right...not anymore.” </p><p>Lex chuckled under her breath, “Yep, you could say that again, Banana…” </p><p>“Ripped apart,” Hannah murmured, wrapping her arms around Lex as tears began to fall harder, “Hurting what’s left...missing what’s gone…” </p><p>Lex wrapped her arms around Hannah and pulled her closer, making Hannah feel like she was full of warmth and happiness. Lex could always make the pain feel like it was nonexistent. Lex could do anything. </p><p>Lex kissed the top of Hannah’s head, “Is it all too much?” </p><p>Hannah nodded. It was too much. Too much to see. Too much to hear. Too much to fight for. Too much at stake. </p><p>“Truth missing,” Hannah murmured, squeezing her eyes shut, “Hurting family...left behind.”</p><p>Hannah could tell that Lex could think of nothing to say in response as she was hugged tighter, allowing her small sobs to be stifled into the fabric of her sister’s shirt. She smiled slightly as Lex rocked her softly back and forth, always being comforting in times of the most tumult. After a while, Hannah’s cries ceased, finding some drowsy peace in the rhythm of Lex’s movements. Lex was always the best at providing comfort and warmth. With her sister, Hannah knew she was forever safe. Lex would do nothing to harm her. Lex was perfect. Lex was strong. Ethan would let no harm come to them, and they’d let no harm come to him. They only had one another before they’d found this small family. This small family that was fragmented by grief and death...but she could sense that they were desperate to be put back together. </p><p> <em> Put back together, </em> the Black and White whispered to her, <em> Salvage- </em></p><p>“Hey…” Lex whispered, cutting off the Black and White and prompting Hannah to look up at her older sister, “You want me to stay here with you?” </p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened and she nodded vehemently. </p><p>Lex smiled softly, “Okay…” </p><p>Within moments, Lex had shifted onto her back, Pulling Hannah to cuddle close on the couch. Hannah buried herself in her sister’s warmth, allowing the excess of words and pain to melt away for the moment. </p><p>“Go to sleep, Hannah,” Lex murmured, “Let those words be tomorrow’s bullshit...okay?” </p><p>Hannah smiled at the familiarity of the statement. Lex used to whisper that to her when they’d have bad days. When Frank would be rude and condescending. When their social worker, Duke, would give them the option of turning their mother over to the police for anything she did- he actually wanted to help, but their mother was all they knew and she would get back at them one way or another. When Hannah would be made fun of at school. Lex would whisper that small message, giving Hannah the peace of mind to sleep through the night. </p><p>While the thoughts of Paul and what had happened to those she loved still twisted malignantly in her mind, she would allow those worries to melt away for now. </p><p>In the back of her mind, the spirits of the Black and White whispered gently. </p><p><em> Sleep now, seer. </em> </p><p>
  <em> Not time yet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Reckoning will come.  </em>
</p><p>She didn’t know what the Black and White was trying to tell her, but something told her she could trust it for now. </p><p>The Black and White wasn’t evil, per se, it was more of a force. A space where the bad things in the universe were imprisoned and where reality was allowed to be carried out normally. Sometimes their warnings were harrowing, sometimes their words were comforting...and somehow, she was able to take this message as a sign of comfort. </p><p>Nestling into her sister’s side and listening to her slow breathing, Hannah was able to find sleep. Finding peace while the world around her screamed. </p><p>She would worry about that tomorrow, finding rest just for this moment. </p><p>But the peace wouldn’t last. </p><p>---</p><p>    After John had found that odd metal shape, Xander couldn’t avoid the feeling of dread that built and twisted inside his stomach. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t deny the similarity. He couldn’t think of anything else that it would be. </p><p>How likely was it that an object he’d created and discontinued would find its way down to these caves? At the site of a cave-in? </p><p>It was all too convenient. </p><p>There was no way it just <em> happened </em> to be there.  </p><p>Those had been kept in the most secure forms of storage that PEIP had, only a few people could access them, and even then...if it was what he was sure it was...how would it have been the cause for all of this, if he so hypothesized? Last he checked, they’d been shipped to the storage facility in Washington, no longer here in Hatchetfield.</p><p>It was because of this that he found himself in the cave again, searching for any other evidence that this was indeed a Babylon Charge. </p><p>He and Rodney had been the ones to develop the concept. </p><p>They’d been experimenting with small, compact explosives that would be more controllable than grenades, but causing more damage. When they’d first presented the concept to John and June, they’d raised their eyebrows at the strange, almost butterfly-like shape of the casing, which concealed several explosive mechanisms that could be controlled from a small baton-like structure that he and Rodney had created without much trouble. It had been so <em> easy </em>to create something like that. Something so destructive and effective. At the time he’d thought it was a triumph. </p><p>How wrong he had been. </p><p>After several months of testing and preparation, he and Rodney had arranged for Tom, a young and shiny new captain to use these new charges in a mission in Iraq. June and John had already approved of them, and the mission required a great deal of demolition. It was supposed to be a field test, in a sense, and Xander at the time was <em> excited </em>to see what their new creation would do. </p><p>Tom brought the charges into Iraq in hopes of using them to dig deeper into the earth, as they’d gotten reports of a potential anomaly which required their attention. Tom had been so willing, so ready for the mission and he was excited to use the new charges. He’d taken a team of some of the best and brightest operatives into the Hamrin mountains and were expected back in less than a week. </p><p>The mission was a disaster.</p><p>They found no anomalies, like the ones that had been reported to them. All they found was destruction, brought on by an accidental misfire when it came to the charges. </p><p>All but two people on the mission had been killed in the initial explosion, and even then, Tom and the other young operative were severely injured by the time locals found them. They were mercifully granted medical attention by a local doctor and were given back to Schaeffer when she sent a search party for them. By that time, the other operative had died from his wounds, leaving Tom scarred and the only sole survivor of the disastrous mission. Tom had left PEIP shortly after that, and Xander had determined that the creation was too destructive to be used in the field and shipped them to the most covert facility he could think of. The damage...the death...a creation of his own which had destroyed twenty of the most talented lives PEIP had to offer. He and Rodney, who’d only been a cadet at the time, could never forgive themselves for that mistake.  </p><p>So, they’d ordered that they be shelved...not destroyed...how foolish that order had been. </p><p>He wished he’d just never designed them, to begin with. </p><p>Tom would have definitely been without the first heap of trauma out of many, that had scarred him and made him the hardened and bruised man that he was today. </p><p>The guilt that filled Xander’s chest when Tom resigned was a feeling he’d never forgive himself for. </p><p>Tom had told him that the misfire wasn’t his fault. That it was a trick of fate and all of its usual bullshit...but the guilt was still there. </p><p>At the end of the day, Xander was the one who created the Babylon Charge , and it was possibly coming back to haunt him. </p><p>“Xander?” </p><p>He turned around to see John, leaning up against the cave wall, his eyes scrunched up as he looked at Xander through the dim light cast by the stones themselves and the few lanterns he’d brought down with them. </p><p>“What are you doing?” John asked as he sauntered tiredly over to him, kneeling down next to him. </p><p>Xander didn’t know what to say. Instead, he opted to just look down at his hands, calloused and covered in dirt. </p><p>John’s eyes softened and took his hands in his own, “You can’t let this eat you up, Xan.” </p><p>“What else am I supposed to do, John?” Xander sighed, “Just move through the day <em> acting </em>like I might not be responsible for this?” </p><p>“You’re not responsible for it,” John said, “We don’t even know if it was a Babylon Charge.” </p><p>“Don’t we?” Xander asked, scratching away nervously at some of the dirt and dust that was caked away at his face, “It has the first five digits for my lab, and my initials...and the shape…”</p><p>“It could be just a dented piece of shrapnel, though,” John mused gently, tugging Xander up to stand, “Don’t worry about it...let’s just go back to sleep.”</p><p>“John,” Xander spoke quickly, hating how shaky his voice sounded, “If this is a Babylon Charge...then someone <em> meant </em> to kill us. They used my creation to try to kill a <em> civilian child </em> . They nearly succeeded in <em> crushing </em> and <em> murdering </em> Emma. <em> They nearly succeeded in killing you.”  </em></p><p>Xander swallowed hard and stared at his feet. He couldn’t bear the idea of his own creation being used to harm those he cared about. The weight of what one of these had already done to Tom was heavy, and if it truly was the device he suspected, then he was responsible for this too…</p><p>Xander knelt back down to hoist a heavy rock out of the way, “So, I’m not leaving until I know for sure…”</p><p>He heard a heavy sigh from behind him before being joined by John in the dirt. He smiled at him as he joined him in digging through the rocks, “Then I’ll help put your mind at rest.”</p><p>Xander smiled at his husband. </p><p>He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a loyal and kind-hearted person such as John in his life. Every time that Xander felt anxious or like he couldn’t stop working on something, John always knew what would do in order to make him feel calm and at ease. It was like a superpower that the man possessed. Always able to bring Xander down from the highest ledges in his life. </p><p>They’d been in the tunnels for less than an hour when Xander encountered a tough stone to dislodge from the wall. </p><p>“Here, let me help you,” John said calmly, moving to his aid, lifting the other side of the rock with far more ease than Xander. </p><p>“Show off,” Xander grumbled as they pushed the stone away. </p><p>“I can’t help it,” John chuckled, “I’ve got an extremely hot husband I need to show off for.”</p><p>“Flattery will not get me to sleep, John,” Xander smiled at his shoddy attempt to get him to sleep. </p><p>“Worth a shot,” John shrugged, working with a small chisel at some smaller stones. </p><p>They continued to work for a while before Xander’s own chisel struck something which responded with a metallic ring. </p><p>His eyes widened and met Johns as he spun the chisel around wildly to fish the object free from the rubble. </p><p>It was another large metal plate. The dents and cracks almost perfectly matching the ones they found on the other piece. </p><p>Xander scrambled over to the opposite side of the cave, where he’d stashed the other piece and held them both up to one another. </p><p>Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, the two metal plates almost perfectly fit with one another, coming to resemble a dented version of the top half of a Babylon Charge shell perfectly. He dropped the pieces with a small gasp and fell back, suddenly unable to breathe. </p><p>“Xander!” John scrambled over to him, cupping his face with his hands, “Xander, breathe.” </p><p>Flashes of Tom’s broken body and face appeared in Xander’s mind, so clear and defined as if he was watching the Iraq mission play out perfectly in his mind. He couldn’t believe it. His worst fear was realized. Suddenly he could see the images of the calamity, the many letters of condolence he wrote to the families of those lost...he could feel his heart in his throat as the world spun around him. </p><p>“<em> Xander!” </em></p><p> He was suddenly snapped back to reality as John’s concerned face appeared in his vision. </p><p>“Xander, breathe with me,” John instructed, running through a breathing exercise that they’d taught one another to get out of stressful situations. Xander followed his lead, breathing at different length intervals, calming down with each breath as it was released. </p><p>Once he was calmed once more, John nodded, “You good?” </p><p>Xander inhaled and exhaled sharply, “Good…” </p><p>John looked mournfully to the dented pieces of what was once a Babylon Charge, his eyes filled with cool calculation, “So...what do we do?” </p><p>Xander chuckled humorlessly, raising a hand to his head as the residual worry spun around in his brain like a whirlpool. </p><p>The fact that they’d found a charge down in the caves meant that someone had purposefully put it there. Someone who had access to PEIP’s secure storage. There was no conceivable way that any of their highest ranking officers would have ever betrayed them like that. They were all loyal...but the presence of the explosive said otherwise.  </p><p>“We have to tell the others,” Xander mused, “Emma will be pissed and protective of Tim...but if someone sabotaged our return…” </p><p>He didn’t even want to think about what the implications of that were. If whoever had tried to have them killed knew that they were alive, then they were all in danger. Something wasn’t right about all of this, but it was nauseating to think about the fact that they still might not be safe when they got back home. The fact that someone they trusted, may have even loved, had taken the time to try and destroy them was horrifying. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Xander looked up and watched as John took his hand in his own. </p><p>“I know this is Paul’s usual spiel,” John chuckled as he sat down next to Xander, “But everything’s gonna be okay. Okay?” </p><p>Xander could only smile and nod. </p><p>---  </p><p>“Is Hannah okay?” Ethan asked Lex as she looked over for the millionth time at her sister, who’d apparently spent the whole day sitting on the couch, staring ahead, as if she was staring at a portrait she couldn’t understand the meaning of. </p><p>He’d woken that morning to find Lex and Hannah cuddled up on the couch, which only happened when Hannah had a rough night. He’d instantly known that something was wrong from the way Lex insisted that they’d be back right after the after-work bell rang, which happened when Hannah was probably in a really bad state. The fact that Hannah wasn’t saying much was the third red flag. He knew she liked her space, but something told Ethan that something was really wrong. </p><p>Lex and he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about it during the lunch break, as the overseer had them both working overtime, so the day had gone by extremely slow with the problem eating away at his mind. </p><p>To make matters worse, he hadn’t even <em> seen </em>Paul throughout the day. </p><p>Usually, he’d at the very least catch a glance of the man, get an indication of the fact that he was still alive and well. Sometimes they’d even get a conversation, but today...there had been nothing. Not even the slightest glimpse of the man as he wandered the halls. </p><p>Ethan tried not to let this worry him. Surely Paul was okay...but something at the back of his head was nagging at him, suggesting otherwise. He sighed and decided that perhaps it didn’t matter, Paul’s privacy was his own. Today had been a long day, and it was his day to cook again, which meant it was his turn to just heat up the sack of rice and dehydrated stuff that had been dropped on their doorstep that morning.</p><p>A knock sounded at the door, snapping him out of his reverie. </p><p>Lex looked up from where she was sitting, “I’ll get it.” </p><p>Ethan smiled at her as she went to the door, looking tired and downtrodden. Somehow in the midst of it all, she managed to stay so strong and powerful. What he’d ever done to deserve her was beyond him. </p><p>He turned back to watch as the water in the small pot began to boil, painstakingly watching as tiny bubbles rose to the surface when a loud laugh from the door caught his attention. </p><p>“No fuckin’ way!” Lex laughed, “Ethan! Come here! See who it is!” </p><p>He peered his head around the corner into the small entry Hallway to see Lex ushering a uniformed Tom Hosuton into their apartment. </p><p>He smiled big, “Mr. Texas Lumberjack himself!” he held out his hand to shake the burly man’s hand, “Long time no see!” </p><p>“Hey, Ethan,” The older man smiled tiredly, “I’m doing fine...I’ll get there when I get there..” </p><p>Ethan nodded in understanding, “Well, come in! We’re just about to have dinner...once this water decides to pick up the pace and fuckin’ boil!” to punctuate his point he cast a glare at the pot on the stove. </p><p>Lex ushered an exhausted-looking Tom into the living room, “I didn’t think you’d-” she began before Tom cut her off. </p><p>“No, Lex,” he smiled slightly, “You were right…”</p><p>Ethan nodded in understanding as he went back to his place on the stove. He knew that Lex had made plans to see Mr. Houston since Paul had let it slip that he’d been in the brig for so long. Lex had spent hours after that visit dreading that she’d said the wrong thing. Saying that she was worried she’d see another Pamela in their favorite teacher. Thankfully though, it seemed like that wasn’t gonna be the case. </p><p>Tom shrugged, “The road back is gonna be a long one, but Becky and you helped me realize I’m not walking that alone…” he looked down, “I just wanted to apologize for anything I said that was...harsh or wrong...or any harm I might have caused...I swear...I’m trying to be better…and I know that sounds fake, but...” the man inhaled and exhaled sharply, “Tim wouldn’t want me to live like this...and you don’t want me to live like this...I need to be the best version of myself now...for you guys and for Tim…”</p><p>Ethan watched Lex’s face as Tom spoke. In her eyes he could see something that was different from the times Pamela had given her a sorry excuse for an apology. There was no doubt as Tom spoke. There was no anger or sadness. Instead, in his girlfriend’s eyes, Ethan saw forgiveness. </p><p>Lex nodded, “We forgive you, man...and we’re willing to help you whenever you need it.”</p><p>Tom nodded and wiped at his eyes, “Thank you…” </p><p>Hannah looked  for what might have been the first time that day and smiled up at him, “Thank you...welcome back.”</p><p>“See, Hannah?” Lex smiled, “It might just be a good day after all!” </p><p>Tom’s face furrowed in concern, “Was today a bad day?” </p><p>“Rough night,” Hannah nodded, “For Paul too.” </p><p>Tom’s eyes widened, “Oh right!” he turned to the door, “Thank you so much for the dinner offer, but I need to go talk to him too. Before the curfew bell goes off. He lives right next door, right?” </p><p>Ethan opened his mouth to answer but Hannah cut him off. </p><p>“Can’t.”</p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow before his face fell, “What...what do you mean?” </p><p>Hannah shook her head , “Can’t talk to him.”</p><p>Ethan met Lex’s eyes as they widened. He decided to abandon his pot of slow-boiling water and sat next to Hannah on the couch, “What do you mean, banana split?” </p><p>Lex moved closer, “Did something happen to Paul, banana?”</p><p>Hannah nodded and Ethan could have sworn he felt his heart drop as he exchanged terrified looks with Lex and Tom. </p><p>Tom sat down in the chair across from Hannah, folding his hands in his lap as he regarded her, his voice was quiet as he whispered the damning words, “Something bad?” </p><p>A few moments passed before Hannah’s eyes locked on Tom’s and she nodded. </p><p>Ethan could hardly breathe. He turned to Hannah, “What happened to him, Hannah?” </p><p>Hannah closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Her words bubbling up in her throat like an oracle or something. </p><p>“Brig.”</p><p>Ethan hadn’t ever seen what the brig was like, but judging from Lex’s vague description of the ‘shithole’ and the way Tom’s face paled when Hannah uttered the word, he knew it couldn’t have meant anything good. </p><p>Tom sighed and buried his face and his hands, “Jesus…”</p><p>“No good reason,” Hannah went on, “Hurting...missing Emma...pursue the truth.”</p><p>At the mention of Emma’s name, Tom looked down. With a painful tug in Ethan’s heart he was reminded of the fact that Tom had also lost a sister-in-law. On top of the heap of loss that their little family had been confronted with, there was so much interwoven grief that made itself known in the most painful of ways. </p><p>Everyone knew how painful Emma’s loss was to Paul. They could see it in his eyes and posture. He acted like things were okay, but they knew better. They could see the grief that grew like a cancer in his heart. They could see it in the ways he distanced himself. He might have lived next door and been the friendly neighbor and family member all he wanted, but they could see what was going on. Still, Paul was an upstanding citizen. Ethan was fairly certain that he’d have a panic attack at the prospect of getting a speeding ticket. Paul wouldn’t give them any violations that would warrant a brig stay. </p><p>Lex was the first to speak again, she looked down at her sister as the news registered in her eyes, “Why?”</p><p>Tears filled Hannah’s eyes, “No good reason...bullshit.”</p><p>Ethan lacked the energy to scold her for the language, instead he asked her again, “Schaeffer found an excuse...but why?” </p><p>She shook her head as a tear rolled down her cheek, “Don’t know...goes back to Emma...Schaeffer wants to silence him...hurting him.”</p><p>Ethan felt something like anger rise in his chest. </p><p>What the hell was Schaeffer doing? Hurting a man who’d done nothing wrong, all because he was mourning the love of his life? What was behind all of this. </p><p>“Schaeffer’s hiding something,” Hannah sniffed, “Don’t know what...cave-in, Paul heard something...trying to scare him.”</p><p>A long period of silence passed through the room as they all weighed the meaning behind Hannah’s words. If she was right, something had happened and it involved what had killed four of their closest friends. If Hannah’s words had any merit- and they always did- Schaeffer was hiding something, and finding excuses to harm those close to them. </p><p>Tom sighed, “We need to find out what really happened…”</p><p>Lex nodded, “Something isn’t right...why would Schaeffer go after <em> Paul of all people?”  </em></p><p>“Powerful,” Hannah muttered, “Knows more than he realizes.”</p><p>Another moment of silence tore through the room. They knew Paul possessed a power similar to Hannah’s. They all had that common ancestor, that witch with the really odd name, so it was no wonder that they were in some way connected with the Black and White. Paul could hear things in the ways that Hannah could. Maybe not to the extent that she could, but he could still hear things. </p><p>Ethan pushed away the thoughts of what Schaeffer might try to do to Hannah if she ever presented even the slightest indication of knowing that Schaeffer had dirty hands. And she did. There was no question about it. The real enigma lay in where she’d gotten the dirt from, and how Paul had fallen from grace in her regard. It was all too puzzling to him. </p><p>If Paul had heard something that made Schaeffer feel determined to silence them, then they were all at risk. But they couldn’t leave Paul without any support. They couldn’t just leave him to rot at the mercy of Schaeffer.</p><p>“Well,” Ethan sighed finally, “We need to be careful about this...if Schaeffer is hiding something and hurting Paul to do it, we need to find out what…”</p><p>They all exchanged solemn glances, silently agreeing to do what they had done all of those months ago. They might have been missing half of their family, but they’d do whatever it took to prevent the further shattering of what remained. </p><p>---</p><p>    It had taken forever for Emma to get comfortable. </p><p>    Something about the entire day had felt...wrong. </p><p>It went beyond the splitting headache that had been giving her grief and the burning pain in her leg that had left her on her cot instead of attempting to use the wheelchair or crutches that Lucy had found in the makeshift medbay. Something just felt like it was wrong...almost as if the rhythm of time had been offset for her. </p><p>It was almost like the day had both been excruciatingly long and short all at once. On top of that, Xander and John looked exhausted, which threw the whole process of the operation awry. There was nothing for them that seemed <em> right </em>over the course of the day. </p><p>The day had come and passed in a blur and suddenly, the time had come for them all to fall back asleep, ready to repeat the course of tedious work that characterized their lives. Still, Xander had mentioned something about their breakthrough being almost <em> weeks </em>away. The exhilaration associated with that filled her with both nausea and joy that she couldn’t understand.</p><p>As each work day came to a close, she felt herself allowing herself a little bit more hope, and a little bit more self-deprecation.    </p><p>She admonished herself when she looked down at her misshapen leg which brought her so much pain on a daily basis. It was a miracle that she was allowed some form of work in order to forget that she’d lost it to begin with. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had looked when she’d first looked upon it after waking up over two months ago, but she still felt so stupid for allowing herself to lose it. If she hadn’t been crushed, she would be working with Xander and John to get them out of the caves, and she wouldn’t be constantly worrying if they would have enough to feed all of them with the next day. She could only hope that they would get a breakthrough soon enough. </p><p>She cast a glance over at her exhausted friends, who’d all fallen asleep relatively easy. Tonight, Lucy had cuddled up with Chumby, since the cave was slightly colder than usual, making Emma’s heart melt at how cute it had looked, snuggled up warmly in their little corner they’d picked. She couldn’t deny that she enjoyed Lucy’s cheerful company. Something about the way the woman was inquisitive reminded Emma vaguely of Jane when they’d been younger, which was a pleasant thought for her. Chumby wasn’t as bad as she’d originally thought, either. He was pleasant and strangely polite for a literal ape-man. This had allowed her to overcome their original awkwardness when they’d originally joined the small group. </p><p>Xander and John, being as exhausted as they were, fell asleep strangely quickly, curled into one another in a way that made Emma long for Paul’s warmth. Made her wish she could just open her eyes and find him asleep on the other side of the bed. It certainly helped that the man was a living furnace. </p><p>Tim had been the last to fall asleep, just moments after Lucy and Chumby had fallen asleep. He’d been very tired all day and was in need of more sleep. Emma wondered if he had nightmares about his parents. She hoped he didn’t. He deserved sleep as a refuge, not as a place of nightmares and torment. She would gladly take a thousand nightmares if it meant she would protect him and all those she loved from such subconscious torment. </p><p>Part of her wondered if it was this sort of fear which had been keeping her awake. </p><p>In some ways, she felt like she’d felt like she was thrown into a world that was unforgiving. A world that sent its misery crashing down upon its people in miserable wave after miserable wave. </p><p>She’d spent so long away from so many of the people that she loved, that she felt like the sorrow was a constantly cresting wave in her chest. Soon, she was fairly certain it would burst and she wouldn’t know what to do with herself then. </p><p>Rather than staying awake and contemplating her misery any further, Emma forced her eyes shut, and waited.    </p><p>She didn’t know how long she waited before she opened her eyes and found herself in the field once more. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She was in the field of flowers once more, all of the bright and beautiful  colors being painted silver as rain came down in furious torrents. She was wearing that same dress again and holding the same flowers, both of which were soaked and being beaten down upon by the relentless sheets of water. She could see next to nothing as the thick weather shrouded around her, chilling her as the heavy soaked skirts of her dress clung to her.  </em>
</p><p> <em> Above the howling of the wind and the rhythm of the rain, she could hear a voice, loud and clear echo through the storm, beckoning her to find him.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Emma!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She whirled around, her heart pounding in her chest, “Paul?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t see him through the shades of grey and silver which had painted the world, but something cried out inside of her to go find him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her feet complained as they moved against the soaked freezing ground, the cool soil freezing her toes as she moved, making her worry that her toes might turn to ice and fall off, still she moved onward, picking up her knees to attempt to lift her soaked dress that was now deep in mud off of the ground.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was still clutching that bouquet of poppies and cornflowers in her hand as she walked, watching as the petals began to fall off and stick to her dress as the rain and wind grew all the more terrifying, still she was not rattled and moved forward.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul!” she called into the storm, desperation running through her veins as she tried so hard to find him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!” The storm answered back.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She had no concept for how long she’d been walking through the harsh chill of the rain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She felt small and insignificant as she trudged through the tempest of her mind, soaked to the bone and shivering violently as she stumbled near-blindly to find the source of a voice she could swear was his. She could feel nothing but determination, however, as she came across a smattering of a few trees. By then, the bouquet that she held like a lifeline was still clutched in her hand tightly. She glanced down at it and found that the cornflowers still remained, making her laugh as the wind howled, almost indignant at the little blue blooms’ impertinence.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She glanced down at the hem of her dress and saw that it was several inches deep in mud and still soaking her to the bone, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she continued to trudge through the tall grasses and flowers which were being whipped around wildly in the wind. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma! Where are you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She heard it again, she was close. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul!” she shouted into the storm, hoping her voice didn’t get lost to the torrents of wind.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  She didn’t know what else to do but move forward, watching as the trees around her danced in the current, reminding her of acrobats in a circus, or children learning just how to rollerblade; sometimes graceful, other times, disastrous. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then, just on the horizon, she caught sight of a tall, blurred figure, moving around like a wounded animal against the wind, but she could see that whatever it was, it was just as determined to get through the storm as she was. It didn’t take much for her to recognize the form of Paul and she bounded forward.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul!” she shouted, making the figure pause, she could see his white shirt and the details of his face coming so clearly into view, “Paul, I’m here!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As she got closer, she could see him begin to bound for her soon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!” his voice sounded so broken, so desperate, “Em!” </em>
</p><p> <em> As soon as they met one another in the middle of the wind, their soaked bodies collided in one warm embrace, which filled Emma with a happiness she couldn’t compare to anything else. Even in a dream, she still felt the warmth of his embrace unlike anything else.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Em…” he whispered into her hair as he held her tighter, he was shaking, possibly from the cold, but it made Emma break away so she could cup his face. She opened her eyes to look up at his face and froze, fear and pain filling her heart as she studied him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His face was littered with bruises and small cuts, as well as his bottom lip being split and scabbed over. One of his eyes looked like it had been partially swollen, almost as if he’d been hit several times in the face. Painful-looking red welts and purple bruises painted most of his face in a way that made her flinch, along with varying shades of light green that made it look like someone had tried to make him their own picasso. Even worse, was the large gash on the side of his cheek, surrounded by dried blood and a bruise that was a deep, sickening shade of violet. As she studied the sad look in his eyes, she could see a look of...defeat. His eyes grew slightly concerned as he studied her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who did this to you?” she demanded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who did-” he froze, his eyes dropping the hope that had previously been in his eyes when he’d first saw her as he lifted a hand to the gash, “You can see those?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded and cupped his face gently again, “Are you okay?” she asked, “What happened?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes it does!” she insisted, “Did someone-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was cut off as he buried his face in her neck, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He was shaking and holding her tightly, his warmth a comfort to her as she shivered in her soaked dress. After a moment, she looked down and saw with the way his chest was hastily rising and falling, that he was crying.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul,” she whispered, “Paul, look at me…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Reluctantly, his head left her shoulder, and one of his big hands came up to cup her jaw before she could say anything.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma,” he whispered, his big blue eyes so wide and earnest, in spite of how exhausted he looked and all the pain he appeared to be in, “I promise you, you will have justice...you will…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are you talking about, Paul?” she asked him, even in the dream, he seemed so concerned, “What happened?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma…” he whispered, “Something happened to you, and they don’t want me to know what...but I will know...I don’t care if it kills me…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul!” She said, cupping his face again and staring into his eyes, worry filling “Don’t say that! I’m so close to coming back to you...I can’t lose you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t care how long it takes,” he went on, “I will give my life if I have to…” he smiled sadly, “Maybe then, I can be with you... “ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” she shook her head. He was talking about giving his life for something he didn’t even know  “Paul, I am so close...we’re only a few days away from breaking through, you need to wait! Please, wait for me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked confused for a moment, his eyes looking like he couldn’t understand what she was saying.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But…” he whispered, “But you’re gone...and they’re hiding something-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, Paul,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes as her voice broke, tired of having to repeat the refrain to herself again, “I’m real...I’m alive...and I’m  gonna come back to you, I promise…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This had to be the part where she felt guilty for leaving him. Time after time she was reminded of how Paul likely thought she was dead...only this time reminded her of the last dream she’d had with him. She was reminded of how lost he had looked.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She reached a hand up and gently traced her fingers around his cuts and bruises, flinching as he winced. She couldn't believe that someone had done this to him. It filled get with a rage she couldn't begin to describe. While she desperately wanted to indulge that anger, all she could feel was pain.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please,” she begged him, taking one of his hands in her own, before looking up to the sky to beg her subconscious to not let her have a dream of pain involving Paul. He’d shown up here, battered and bruised so badly, she couldn’t even begin to describe the anguish that had caused her. Now, he was talking about avenging her when she wasn’t even dead, “Please! Let me just have this moment! What more do you want from me?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul looked up to the sky where she was screaming, “Em...who are you talking to…?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, it’s my dream!” she snapped, emotionally exhausted, “That’s gotta count for something!” </em>
</p><p><em> He froze, his eyes looking confused, “But...this is </em>my dream, right…?”</p><p>
  <em> He suddenly didn’t seem so sure. Emma shook her head,  as she watched his expression shift.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” he murmured, “This is my dream...I went to sleep in the brig…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The brig?!” she questioned, incredulous of dream-Paul’s statement.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah…” he mused, turning away from her, looking extremely confused, “Schaeffer put me there…” </em>
</p><p> <em> “But this is…” she wasn’t so sure suddenly, she had fallen asleep in the cave, hadn’t she?  </em></p><p>
  <em> She decided not to think much about it and shook her head. This was her dream, and all of this confusion was just supposed to rattle her, like it always did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She gently took Paul’s arm in her hand, wincing at the sight of a few more bruises running up and down his arm that were ever so slightly visible through his soaked button-up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please,” she begged her subconscious as tears fell , “Please, just let me have this moment…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyes softened and he stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms as he did, tears falling from his eyes. Around them, the storm had fallen to a light rain, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Even in a dream, his embrace was so perfect, so warm. She felt safe and peaceful in ways that she hadn’t over the course of the past few months. All she wanted was that peace. All she wanted was him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After a while, Paul whispered into her hair as they stood there, holding one another tightly, Emma getting lost in his warmth and his embrace,  “I miss you so much, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded into his soaked shirt, “I miss you too…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As if in sync, they looked at one another, a familiar urge overcoming them. Emma gently wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers softly threading through his wet hair. She pushed up onto her toes and met his lips in a warm, sweet kiss.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She hummed softly into his mouth as he held her closer, their shared warmth being perfectly shared between them in spite of the freezing cold that surrounded them and tried to envelop  them. She wished this were real life and not a dream. But until she could hold him again in real life, this would have to suffice.  </em>
</p><p><em> Little did she know… it wasn’t </em> just <em> her dream.  </em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Paul baby I'm so sorry that an ugly ass bitch like Schaeffer (not really, because JLB is freaking gorgeous) would do something like this...</p><p>Hannah, you're doing amazing sweetie.</p><p>Xander, you're also doing amazing sweetie (also, McNamander stans come get y’all juice)</p><p>Ethan is determined to not let his family go. You hurt someone you love, you've got a bunch of angsty teens and adults coming your way.</p><p>Emma sweetie...its okay.</p><p>Also do you know how much I love...✨them✨?<br/>*=Paulkins</p><p>They're SO CLOSE GUYS!!!</p><p>Also, updates this next week might be a little scarce because I've got a tech week for a show I'm in, so I’ll update as much as I can, but it might be a while.</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos!!! I'd love to know what you think! Even if you don't, I still appreciate your reading this 11k chapter!!!! Again, I am SO SORRY for the length, I swear I'm trying to make these shorter.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I really appreciate all of you guys!!!</p><p>Please have a fantastic day and don't forget to wear a mask, please!!! I've almost threatened people at my school who wear it like a chin strap. The ignorance is astonishing.<br/>Wear your masks, please!!!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. It Gets Hard But it Won’t Take Away My Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Buckle up.</p><p>This one's a lot.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song ’Here Without You’ by Three Doors Down.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Brutality, mentions of spouse death, mentions of parental death.</p><p>So, this one starts right off where the last chapter ended, and has two time skips that span over Paul’s week in the brig. I put the date markers, so hopefully it doesn't get confusing!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 6th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They found a small willow tree in the middle of the field to sit under while they watched the rain fall around them. The petrichor acting almost like a drug, pulling them into a soft form of silence. The wind was softer than it had been when they’d first found each other, wandering aimlessly out in the rain-drenched field.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t fall asleep easily, though, he remembered that well enough. His bones and muscles ached after spending the first day in isolation in the foul-smelling brig. He was fed only once a day, and had only interacted once with a person when he’d received a few more blows to his chest with a regretful look in the guard’s eyes. The only peace he’d found was thinking of Emma, so when he’d opened his eyes and found himself in the field, he found himself searching for her already. He didn’t know why, he just felt compelled to find her, knowing somehow that she would be there. And she was.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They didn’t feel the pressure to speak as the rhythm of the rainstorm lulled them into a peaceful form of quiet, watching the nature of the dream move in its mysterious ways.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sat under the tree with her resting peacefully in his arms, her head nestled under his chin comfortably as her damp hair tickled his collarbone. They were both soaked to the skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, as long as they had this peace in this dream, he was fine, even if it was a dream of Emma.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, he missed her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He missed having this in real life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked down at her, her eyes peacefully shut as she held on tight to him, and was reminded of the time he returned to her after being infected. He’d wanted nothing more than to be held by her or hold her. Either way, he just wanted her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wasn’t sure what to think of this.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everything about her seemed real, despite his knowledge that it was just a wishful dream. The warmth she gave him as he held her, the way she nestled comfortably under his chin, the way they didn’t feel any pressure to say anything. All they had was one another, and the knowledge that it was enough made him think that they were back together, in much more peaceful times. Back when things had been easier and light.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He hugged her tighter, relishing in the way she reciprocated, pressing a kiss to his collarbone as she nestled in closer. He kissed her hair in response, making her smile slightly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He loved her smile. The way the corner of her lips would turn up in a teasing smile as she found something he did funny. The way that she would smirk at him, trying painfully hard to hide a smile as she found something that shouldn’t have been amusing, hilarious. Her smile could brighten up his darkest days. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then there were her eyes, those beautiful orbs of soil brown that he could tell hid so many things, and yet, he always felt like he could find the meaning of life in them. It was such a privilege that he had been allowed to look into them on a daily basis. They always put him at ease, no matter where they were or how dire the situation was.   </em>
</p><p><em> God, he just </em> loved <em> her. </em></p><p>
  <em> Which made the fact that this wasn’t real all the more brutal. He hated the fact that no matter how hard he wanted this, this would always be a dream to him. Emma would forever be trapped in the remnants of his happy memory, and he hated to have that be the only way he could have her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt the tears sting the cuts and gashes that Schaeffer and her guard had left on his face as he held her close to him, not wanting to let go. She looked up at him, “You okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t know how to respond. What was he supposed to tell the dream version of the love of his life? It wasn’t like she could do anything about it. God, if Emma were alive… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A painful tug at his heart reminded him of the truth… </em>
</p><p>She wasn’t alive. </p><p>
  <em> He shook his head and she sighed, “You know I don’t believe that, Paul…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sat up and cupped his face gently, tracing her fingers gently over his bruises and frowning at them, “I’m gonna kill whoever did this to you…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled lightly and shook his head. That was something Emma would have definitely said.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why did they do this…?” she whispered, “What did they want from you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, “I don’t know, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She didn’t seem convinced, her eyes filled with sadness as she settled back into his arms, He slowly and gently drew his fingers in a tantalizing rhythm up and down her exposed spine, as the lovely lace dress she wore had an open back, making her smile and lean into his touch. When she refused to wake up, sometimes, he would do this until it tickled the base of her neck and forced her awake. It was a sweet memory in comparison to the wrath of the world outside.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why am I doing this to you?” she whispered to herself, making his head snap down to her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “What do you mean?” he asked, looking at the tears and regret that filled her eyes. No, he couldn’t let her be hurting in this world. He couldn’t let his own pain be hurting any iteration of her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Every single dream” she murmured to herself, “Every single time I find you, you’re hurt or you die within moments and I just...It’s my fault…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She glared up at the sky, “Can you please give dream-Paul a break, please!?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream-Paul?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He raised an eyebrow and looked at her, “Dream-Paul?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, “I don’t want to wake up...but we’re so close...we’re so close to coming home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, “Emma...there is no home anymore...not while you’re gone...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop saying that!” she sat up and stared at him, “Paul, I’m real...I’m sorry that I left, please stop this!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” he was legitimately confused, “What do you mean?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop this!” she exclaimed her eyes filled with tears, her voice quickly turning to sobs  “Every time I dream of you, and we end up in this field, I feel so much pain over the fact that I left you...I hate myself for leaving you and I can’t forgive myself for any grief I might have caused...I live in pain...I don’t even have my fucking leg anymore…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now he was extremely confused, his heart twisting at the sight of how broken her face looked, “Emma...what-”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And now it’s been two dreams, where I find you and you act like I’m dead,” she sobbed, pushing herself away and scooting away from him, “I just...I can’t live thinking you hate me…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She buried her face in her hands and cried softly, “S-Sorry...I don’t know how many times I can say it...but I’m so...so sorry, Paul…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He scooted forward, wrapping his arms around her, allowing her to bury her face in his shirt, “Emma… I could never hate you...I just miss you...and wish I’d-”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head, cutting him off, “I just don’t know why d-dreams have to be so goddamn…” she trailed off as she furiously wiped tears from her eyes.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wished he had an answer for her. These dreams were both blissful and torturous for him. He was reminded of Emma in every dream he received, and now she was in the dream, claiming that she was feeling the exact same things that he could.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He leaned back against the tree, cradling her weeping form to his chest as a few more tears slipped down his face, “I’m so sorry, Emma…” he whispered, “If I had just done something…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She looked up at him and he went on, “Then you’d still be alive -”  </em>
</p><p><em> She sat up again and shook her head,  looking like she was on her last nerve as tears dripped down her face, “But that’s just it, Paul! I’m </em> not <em> dead! I’m alive! I survived the fucking cave-in! I don’t know how many times I’ve told you in these dreams but-”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Paul couldn’t understand and cut her off, “What are you talking about?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then again,” Emma went on, “I don’t know how much good it does to tell a dream version of you but-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, Emma,” he cut her off, sobs rising in his throat “It’s you who’s haunting every single dream I’ve had since you died. I think I’m going fucking crazy every single day because I keep hearing your voice...like you’re writing me a letter that I can’t hold in my hands….I hear you every single day and I live in pain...I try to live but it’s so hard because you’re not here...and I can’t fucking take it back!”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They sat there for a moment, the outbursts shaking one another with the aftershocks of pain. Her eyes were wide, “What did you say…?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed, regret at the outburst making its way into his veins, “I’m sorry Em...It’s not-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” she shook her head, “You said something about a letter?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t know,” he sighed defeatedly, “It’s just...every day...or when I’m about to try to get some sleep, I keep hearing your voice...and it sounds like I’m hearing fragments of a letter you’re writing...one I’ll never- I’m sorry, Em...just please don’t leave me…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knew that once he woke up, she would disappear, and he’d be back in the brig awaiting the next phase of punishment that Schaeffer had laid out for him. He’d willingly bear it. If this peace was all that he had, all that he had left of Emma, then he would wait for the night to come eagerly. As long as her memory didn’t leave him, he’d be okay. He would let them take anything from him, just as long as he remembered her and how wonderful and exciting life had seemed. As long as he remembered the way his heart picked up speed when their eyes met, the way she’d smirk up at him when she caught him looking at her with every single ounce of love and adoration he felt for her, the way hearing his own name from her made it feel like he was the luckiest man alive.  He couldn’t imagine a world where he existed and didn’t fall in love with Emma.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You heard them?” she whispered after a long moment of silence, her eyes wide and filling with tears, “You heard my letters?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” Now he was really confused, “You mean-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How long?” she interrupted, her eyes wide, “How long have you been hearing these...letters?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was taken aback by the question, but the way that her eyes seemed to bore into him,  made him feel compelled to answer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-” he began. He actually wasn’t so sure. He’d first heard the full sentence a little over a week ago, right? Even though it felt like it had been years ago, he was fairly certain that he’d heard Emma’s voice coherently months before. Maybe two months. It hadn’t been much, just bits and pieces, words, like ‘Dear’ and ‘Love’ and ‘I’. Sometimes he could have sworn he heard her saying his name.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Two months…” he settled on, “A little over two months...It started out as single words, but now I can hear full sentences…” He didn’t understand the relevance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Two months,” she repeated, her eyes wide, “You heard me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wha-” He didn’t get to respond as Emma stood, pacing around under the tree, a frantic look in her eyes. Paul painstakingly stood with her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Two months…” Emma was muttering, “That’s how long ago I woke up…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Woke up?” He asked, “Emma, what are you talking about?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You think this is your dream?” she turned to him, grabbing his shoulders in her hands and staring him in the eyes. In her eyes, he could see a ferocity that reminded him of nights before final exams and tests where he would help her study and drill her through all kinds of cellular processes, “Like...you went to sleep and opened your eyes here?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh...yeah...I’m pretty sure,” he stammered, “Where are you going with this…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well...this is my dream, Paul,” she said decidedly, “So one of us is lying or-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Or?” he prompted, unsure of where she was going with this.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She muttered something unintelligible under her breath before looking back up at him with wide eyes, “It is you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The look in her eyes softened as tears began to fall again, she looked him up and down, “It’s really you…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, leaving him all the more concerned and confused.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly she drew back and cupped his face, smiling slightly, “I can’t believe it...this whole time…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” Paul whispered, “Emma, you’re not making any sense…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think about it, Paul!” she exclaimed, “Your ability! You’ve been hearing my voice for two months...I woke up two months ago…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Woke up from what Emma?” He asked, several questions running through his head, “What are you getting at?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think, Paul,” she said, “Think!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think?!” he exclaimed, “Emma, you died three months ago and I’m stuck in the brig. This is a dream, there’s not much to it!”  </em>
</p><p><em> “You </em> think <em> I died,” Emma murmured, “But Schaeffer never sent anyone to retrieve bodies or confirm this, did she? So how do you know I died?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Because I heard you scream!” he said, hating the terrified way the words rolled out of his mouth. A shiver ran up his spine as he was reminded of the bone-chilling scream of death that had echoed in his skull as the thunderous collapse echoed down the cave and into the closet, where he’d been waiting to meet them. His breath suddenly became very heavy in his chest and his heart squeezed painfully against his ribs at the memory, “I heard...you...I heard you...and then I couldn’t...no matter how hard I tried to listen...I couldn’t hear you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her eyes softened with regret and pain at his words. Her next few words were soft and whispered, “But you’re hearing me now...what does that tell you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He laughed humorlessly as more tears poured from his eyes, “I- I don’t fuckin’ know, Emma...I don’t. Maybe I’m just going-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul,” she interrupted, “You’re not crazy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then what are you trying to tell me?” he said, “Because all I’m getting from this is confusion and more reminders that you’re never coming back!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His breath was ragged as he spoke the words. Whatever dream-Emma was getting at, he figured it had to be a trick. A cruel game played by his own grief and unwillingness to let her go. He was trying so desperately to find ways to make her alive again, and it was reflecting in this Emma. This creation of his subconscious that made him forget the agonizing truth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her eyes softened again, tears falling down her cheeks. Silently, she walked to the base of the tree and sank down, gesturing for him to join her, “If I’m right, then you’re gonna want to sit down.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Reluctantly, like he was following the pace of a clock on the longest of days, he joined her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They sat there for a moment in silence, watching as the rain continued to pour around them.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Paul,” she began with a small smile, “This is gonna sound fucking crazy...but I think you’re actually in </em> my <em> dream… or I’m in yours...or maybe we’re sharing one…” </em></p><p>
  <em> He was dumbfounded. He honestly had no idea what to say to that.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I mean…” she whispered, “I can’t think of anything else to explain it…You think it’s your dream...I think it’s my dream...maybe through our bond or something we were able to communicate without realizing it…through these dreams,” she looked down, “That’s the only explanation I can think of...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So…” he stammered, unable to comprehend the theory she was proposing, “You think that...we’re sharing a dream...because I’m me...and you’re saying… that it’s really you…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wanted to believe it. As crazy as it sounded, he wanted so desperately to believe that this was really her. That this was somehow the woman he’d fallen in love with, talking to him. But the fact that he was so deep in grief made the fact that he was seeing her was likely a by-product of that. The logical answer was that he missed her so much, he was trying to imagine scenarios where she lived. Trying to find a way to make her live again.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Look,” she moved closer to him, cupping his face, “I’m me...It’s me, Paul... </em> really <em> me.” </em></p><p>
  <em> He didn’t know how to respond as he stared into her eyes, capturing almost every detail of her dark eyes as they desperately begged him to believe her. While he was fairly convinced he’d never be able to capture all of the beauty of Emma in his mind, he couldn’t deny that he would have sworn he was staring back at the love of his life as if she were breathing before him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was at a loss for words, to which she looked down in defeat, her eyes frantic to find something to convince him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your name,” she started, her voice gentle and light, “Is Paul Jonathan Matthews...you were born on October eleventh in nineteen eighty-seven to Martina Molly Matthews and an asshole who shall remain nameless.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are you-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have a small half-moon scar underneath your ear from when your father threw something at you,” she went on, staring straight ahead, “You never talk about him much, but I was always able to tell how bad it was. You always came to Beanies thinking you were smooth and just ordering a coffee as an excuse to see me. You never knew that I could tell how bad you were at flirting, but really all it did was make you cuter in my mind… when you finally got the guts to get my number, I gave you it on a coffee sleeve and we went to that sandwich shop, Marty’s...then one date turned to two and then a third at the Silver Sage Roadhouse, where I brought you home with me for the first time in the freezing cold rain...” she cut herself off with a small tearful chuckle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He found himself smiling sadly at the memory. He’d used his jacket as an umbrella when he’d walked her home, her arms around his waist to keep them both dry. He’d wanted to kiss her when they came to her apartment, but was so nervous to ask so she’d beat him to the punch and kissed him. He wanted to remember that kiss until the day he died...even after that. Everything had felt so perfect in that moment. Then, she’d invited him inside...and one thing led to another, which meant he got to experience what it was like to wake up next to Emma Perkins for the first time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “In a previous reset, we were together for almost three years, and we had a grey tabby named Socks...we affectionately nicknamed him ‘little brat’. Sometimes when I’d overwork myself, you’d pull me off of the couch and make me dance with you to Elvis or some shit like that...” she turned to meet his eyes, “You have a nervous habit of tapping your clenched fists together, which I think is amazing, and you like to run your fingers through my hair when I’m studying or working and you have nothing better to do. Would a dream version of me know all of that?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t know how to answer. Logically, since they were his memories, it would make sense that his projection of Emma would remember them. He merely sighed and shrugged.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She looked defeated, “It was a long shot…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well,” he began, “What happened to you...if you really are...Emma…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am,” she whispered, her voice desperate, “And you’re really my Paul...I know it…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He swallowed the lump in his throat, “How do I know this isn’t just a trick of my own mind? Better yet, if you are the real Emma, how’d you survive...what reassurance do I have that it’s really you...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wanted so desperately to believe that this really was her...no matter how far out the theory of it actually being her seemed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She swallowed hard and looked down, tears filling her dark eyes as she desperately tried to stifle the pain, “I went on a mission…to save Tim, you remember?” she whispered,  looking up to see him nod and went on, “The vehicle to get us back to the base was destroyed so I came up with the idea to use Hidgens’ secret tunnel as another access point, which I’m sure you know collapsed...” her breath hitched as she went on, “We were halfway through the tunnel when the collapse happened, Xander grabbed Tim, and he and John managed to outrun it...I would have too, but I tripped over something, and as I started to run again…” she trailed off as more tears fall down her face, “I was crushed. My left leg got the worst of it, though...only my arm was out of the rocks…” she buried her face in her hands and took several deep breaths, leaving him to contemplate the horror behind her words.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t imagine it. Emma, trapped under layers of stone and ruin, trapped without any knowledge of if she would ever get out. The thought of it made tears come to his eyes and his breath hitch in his throat. He couldn’t imagine the fear and pain she must have been experiencing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma…” he whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder, unsure of what else to do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It took them four days to dig me out,” Emma whispered, “I don’t know how I survived, but I did...I was unconscious for a full month… but during that time, they had to amputate my leg, or I wasn’t gonna make it...” she trailed off again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her hand began to tap anxious patterns on her thigh as she stared down at her leg, “I woke up two months ago, and we were all trapped in Hidgens’ basement. John and Xander are digging out a tunnel...and that’s when the letters started…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The letters?” he whispered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fragments of sentences that had been floating around in his brain in her voice for the past few weeks. Her voice. Her words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded and bit her lip, “Sometimes, when I wouldn't be able to sleep...I’d write you letters...mentally...it was a good distraction...I’d write about Tim...or about how much I missed you-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How sorry you are…” he whispered, interrupting her as he remembered the time he’d heard her apologize over and over again in the shower.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma’s eyes widened and she nodded, “I’ve been doing that for two months now…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For a moment they just looked at one another. His eyes wide as he studied her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was something in her eyes, in the way she looked at him, that made him realize there was no way a dream could replicate it. The way she looked at him as if he, an everyday average man, had placed the stars in the sky for her alone. For her, he would.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The look in her gorgeous eyes was something no dream could ever recreate.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In those eyes, he saw the woman that he loved. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dead or alive...somehow, he knew this was Emma. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s you…” he whispered breathlessly. Whether it was a spirit or actually her, it was Emma his arms were around, “I don’t…I can’t...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She laughed tearfully and nestled closer into him, “And it’s you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He laughed as tears poured down his face, hugging her tighter, which she readily reciprocated. For the first  time in forever, he felt sure of something. In the way her warmth wrapped itself around him, he felt peace and joy unlike anything else.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t want to wake up,” he whispered into her hair as they leaned against the tree again, her in his arms once more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head, “Me neither...I just can’t wait until we get to you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled at the idea, “I love you so much, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She tilted her head up with a lovely smile, shifting up so her lips were so close, they brushed against hers as she spoke, “And I you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, their lips met. Her lips were soft and gentle against his, even as she deepened it, her hands cupping his face as he held her closer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even if it was in a dream, he felt like he never wanted to leave her arms. There was something about this that made him feel like they were in real life. Like nothing would go wrong for them. She hummed softly, holding him tighter as she nestled closer. They broke apart once they both needed to breathe, but went right back into kissing one another.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, Emma’s eyes widened, “Paul! I need to tell you-” </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>BOOM!</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> She was cut off by the excruciatingly loud sound of a clap of thunder. Her eyes widened and they both turned to look at the sky through the branches of the tree. Almost as if the sky itself were bleeding, a cloud of deep red began to spread across the grey sky. He recognized it from when he’d last seen Emma in the dream. Almost on reflex, he held her tighter, unsure of what to think. She tightened her grip on his as well as a feeling of fear seemed to settle over them both.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No…” Emma murmured to herself, horror in her eyes, “No...not yet...not yet!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The wind began to howl louder, and Paul stood, pulling them both to their feet. The leaves of the willow tree whipped around them  snapping around them and making them jump. Without thinking, Paul grabbed Emma’s hand and began to run. He had no idea what it was that he hoped to accomplish as they both bounded across the field, he just needed to get away and stay with Emma for as long as possible. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had no idea how long they’d been running for before he felt her hand begin to slip from his. He slowed down and turned to look at her and found his breath being taken away by panic that clenched awfully in his chest.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Matching the sky, there was a stain of something red, that could have only been blood, spreading across the bodice of her dress. She was looking down at it with a confused expression on her face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em…” he whispered, unable to comprehend the horror unfolding in front of him. He ran for her as she collapsed to the ground, “Emma!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She looked up at him as the wind and the now-blood-red rain whipped around him. A weak cough escaped her as he gathered her in his arms, “H-hey...at...at least it isn’t you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head as they were soaked in the red water. Part of him wanted to believe that the red rain was the source of the ever-growing bloom of red on the white lace was the rain, but it was too dark and too thick, making him feel sick.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “N-No...not yet,” he cried, “Not yet!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t want to wake up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul, listen to me…” she whispered through hoarse breaths, “This isn’t it...I will find you...in real life...not this fucky dream-world...I promise….”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head as the tears continued to fall, the wailing of the wind threatened to consume them both.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked back down at her to tell her something- anything- that perhaps this would be okay. That she was gonna be fine. That it was just a dream and she’d be fine, but when he looked back down at her, she was unmoving. Her eyes were closed. With a shock throughout his body he noticed how eerily still she was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em-Emma ?” he whispered, shaking her lightly, “Em?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was no answer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Images flashed through his mind.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her flatlining.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her waiting for the shadows to consume her after he’d been pulled into the Black and White.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The ear-splitting shriek of death that had shattered his heart whole when he knew she died. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And now this… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wasn’t even given time to mourn her before the wind rose to a scream in his ears, circulating around him and consuming him whole, not even giving him a moment to even shed a tear for her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Emma!”</p><p>He shot up in bed, his back aching as he moved. His heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn’t even register the stinging of tears in his eyes as the wave of soreness and pain from his unpleasant encounter with Schaeffer and her men washed back over him. </p><p>He suddenly remembered where he was. </p><p>He was in the brig. </p><p>Being held prisoner for charges he couldn’t understand. </p><p>Still, he knew now that it was far more than just a perimeter violation. </p><p>He was hearing Emma. </p><p>Not a version of her created by his subconscious to cope with her being gone. No. </p><p>In some way, he was actually hearing her. </p><p>But how was that possible?</p><p>He’d not just heard her scream of death...he’d felt it. Every single painful detail of that scream he’d heard had signaled to his soul that she was gone. Though his heart pleaded with him to believe that she was alive...everything else knew she was gone, that there was no  way she could have survived. Yet, there she had been. </p><p>Somehow, Emma was alive, in some strange sense of the word. </p><p>If he heard fragments of these letters, as Emma had called them, he would listen, he would listen for as long as he needed to. He <em> would </em>hear her. </p><p>Maybe he could even respond. </p><p>It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, but he would do his best to try. He would spend as long as he needed to make sure he would hear her...and maybe send a letter in response. Then he’d know...he would.</p><p>The door opened to his cell suddenly, and in walked one of Schaeffer’s men with a guilty expression on his face. </p><p>The man looked like he’d heard some grim news, and was being sent to do something he didn’t want to, lest consequences be had. He read the name on the man’s shirt. </p><p>
  <em> P. Martin </em>
</p><p>Ah. One of the names on the medical benefits list. </p><p>He’d grown quite acquainted with the names on the list, as well as their reasons for being on the list. His wife, if Paul remembered, had sickle-cell anemia, and was in need of frequent blood transfusions. Because of the severity of the disease, she was in need of an eventual bone marrow transplant, but because knowledge of potential donors and frequency of transfusions were scarce. That meant that in Schaeffers world, both she and her husband, Peter had to work full-time to be privy to the right to have some access to the blood samples they’d occasionally have to offer her. In the sick, twisted way that their hospitalization system worked, they sometimes didn’t even have the right type of blood to offer her, which meant that she was only getting the transfusions she needed every once in a blue moon. </p><p>Medical benefits, they called it. </p><p>Well, Paul knew right then that it was a goddamn lie. </p><p>Really, it was a way for Schaeffer to keep one of her operatives under her thumb. </p><p>As the man approached him, he couldn’t look him in the eye. </p><p>“So,” Paul murmured, looking down, “What’re you in for?”</p><p>Martin looked even more guilty. </p><p>“How tight of a leash does she have you on?” Paul asked, feeling sorry for the man in spite of knowing what was inevitably coming. One look at the taser-like device in the man’s hand and he knew. </p><p>“A tight one,” the man whispered, “I’m so sorry…” </p><p>Paul shook his head, too exhausted and done with the world to care with the apologies of those who knew what was wrong, “Just get it over with…” </p><p>He closed his eyes as he was met with pain in wave after wave. </p><p>Still, in spite of it all, he thought of Emma. Trying desperately to write her a letter. </p><p>Hoping that somewhere out there, wherever in the universe Emma was, that she would know just how much he loved her. </p><p>And it would be like that for the next few days... </p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 8th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>It had taken a whole lot of bartering and pleading with Schaeffer to earn this meeting. After being reinstated as Captain of the Operations department, he was willing to use every resource in his power to check up on Paul.</p><p>From what little information Tom had been given about Paul’s case, Schaeffer was saying that Paul had violated a strict perimeter and was therefore subjected to a week of brig-time. He figured that the punishment was harsh on the part of her, but something told him that his attempts to sway her would do nothing. </p><p>Five minutes was all that he’d been given in order to see Paul. That was all. </p><p>Personally, he wished he’d had longer. He needed to make amends with Paul, and then talk about why he’d ended up there...there wasn’t much time to do it. Something just felt wrong. </p><p>Still, he was glad he had <em> some </em>time rather than no time. </p><p>As he approached the brig door, he swallowed hard. The time he’d spent in the brig hadn’t been inherently unpleasant, he didn’t think it was the best place in the world. Until Lex and Becky had come in, he’d been blind to the state of the place, too busy wallowing in his own self-pity and guilt which was still so deeply rooted in his heart. He was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to recall any features of the cells itself. He was slightly ashamed of himself for ending up there. For one thing, Tim would have been ashamed of Tom, landing himself in the brig for shitty reasons. For another, Tom couldn’t recall what good his journeys into drinking and staying out accidentally past curfew had done. He hated himself for making those choices. Tim would have hated him…</p><p>He pushed these thoughts away as he approached Rodney, “He in there?” </p><p>Rodney sighed, looking down sadly, “Where else would he be, Tom?”</p><p>There was an immense amount of regret in the man’s eyes which Tom recognized instantly, “What happened?” </p><p>Rodney shook his head, “You’ll see, but it’s bad…”</p><p>Without another word, Tom pulled open the door and entered the brig. </p><p>He should have known that the brig would be in such a shitty state. Of course he’d not cared when he’d been in the brig, but he could tell from the shoddy state of things that he should have noticed. However, with a sickening twist in his stomach, he could see red and rust-colored stains on the floor, the unmistakable sign that blood had been spilled making him feel anger unlike anything else. </p><p>It was a moment or two before his eyes fell on Paul. </p><p>The man was sitting in a hunched-over position on the bed, facing away from Paul, almost as if he were studying the wall intently.</p><p>Something about the way he was sitting made Tom realize that he’d not even realized he’d come in. </p><p>“Paul?” he said, trying to remain as calm as he could. </p><p>The man straightened slightly before turning around, jumping to his feet to face him. </p><p>What Tom saw made him pissed off. </p><p>Paul had several bruises and gashes covering his face. One of them, a large gash on his forehead, looked fresh and was surrounded by blood that looked like it was still drying. He was holding a wad of something that looked like the toilet paper from the sorry excuse for a bathroom to his nose, and Tom could see fresh blood still leaking through. </p><p>His eyes widened as he fell on Tom. </p><p>“T-tom!” he exclaimed, almost as if he were shocked to see him there.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Paul,” Tom muttered, shaking his head at how beaten and bruised the man was. </p><p>He wasn’t close to Paul by any means, but he did know that Tim adored Paul and called him his Uncle. Beyond that, Paul had loved Emma in a way Tom had never been able to comprehend. Back before the timelines became fucked-up, he remembered several occasions in which they would spend evenings together, all of them laughing as Tim talked endlessly. Paul was a part of their family in every sense of the word that Emma had been. Tom’s only regret was that he’d not allowed Emma into it sooner. </p><p>For a while, both men just stood there staring. Tom couldn’t think of anything to say to the man he’d hoped would be the legal uncle to his son. What do you say to someone who’s suffered just as much as you? </p><p>“Lex…” Tom began, “She told me that Rodney said you tried to come check up on me when I was still here…”</p><p>Paul nodded slowly, with a humorless chuckle, “Glad to see you’re on the outside…”</p><p>“Wish you were too,” Tom said calmly, looking down, “Hannah said you’re in here for bullshit reasons.”</p><p>Paul looked down with a small bob of his head, a haphazard nod to acknowledge silently that he too, thought his condemnation was bullshit. </p><p>Tom sighed. It was obvious from the way Paul was awkwardly standing, that he was in pain. Why he was able to remain standing when he looked like he was sore and broken. </p><p>“Paul, you can sit down, you know,” Tom said semi-awkwardly. </p><p>Paul appeared to be at a loss for words and sat down extremely fast, like he was waiting for Tom to instruct him to do as much. </p><p>“Well...not unless you want to but- you know what, never mind,” Tom sighed. He was messing this all up. </p><p>Paul looked down. In the way he was sitting, Tom could see that what the Foster girls and Ethan had said about him was true. The utter defeat and exhaustion in the man’s eyes was something nobody could miss, no matter how blunt or how hard he tried to smile. The grief was there. </p><p>“Why are you here?” Paul asked, his eyes wide as he looked up at Tom.</p><p>Tom inhaled and exhaled sharply. How was he supposed to explain this and make it sound like it wasn’t something that they didn’t already know. Paul likely knew that Schaeffer was full of shit. That was normal. If that weren’t true, Paul wouldn’t be in the brig. Also, what actual facts did he have to go off of to make it sound like he was sane. He knew that Hannah was a viable source of information, and Paul had gotten close with her while Tom was in the brig, but he at the very least had to have some more information that would appeal to a methodical and logical person like Paul.  </p><p>“Well…” Tom began with a small sigh, “I need to tell you…I think Schaeffer is-”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Paul’s voice had been loud and sudden, and his eyes were widened frantically. Before Tom could ask him what the problem was, he raised a hand to his ear, pointing to it. Tom got the message. </p><p>Schaeffer had likely bugged the brig. </p><p>He internally kicked himself for having been so stupid. Over the past few small conversations he had with Lex and Ethan in pasing, as a means  of avoiding being conspicuous, they’d discussed that Schaeffer had probably had Paul followed over the course of the days leading up to his arrest. If there was anything that should have been obvious, it was the fact that she likely wouldn’t have stopped. </p><p>Well...shit. </p><p>How was he supposed to keep their mission incognito now? </p><p>The plan had been to tell him about what Hannah had said and how they figured what had happened to Paul tied in. As of yet, it wasn't much, but it was enough for nearly four days of not really getting to discuss it. </p><p>“So…” Tom began unsure of what he was going to say. </p><p>“I’m sure you’ve heard all the reports about how I’m…” Paul made a little gesture with his hands as he interrupted Tom, “‘Fucking crazy’,”</p><p>Actually, Tom hadn’t heard anything at all. All of the reports that covered Paul’s case went straight to Schaeffer. </p><p>“Um...no…” Tom shook his head, “Why would anyone think you’re fucking crazy?” </p><p>Paul looked surprised, “Something tells me Schaeffer’s gonna want to keep me in here as much as possible….but the truth is, Tom, I’ve been hearing Emma.” </p><p>Oh. Oh shit. </p><p>Tom wouldn’t deny that grief made some of the most methodical and normal men go crazy. Sometimes he could have sworn that he saw Jane and heard her in almost everything. His heart broke for Paul as he considered what this meant. Now that Emma was gone, he was struggling to accept her loss and as a result, he was hearing her. Tom knew firsthand how painful that was. </p><p>“Well…”Tom began, sitting down in the small chair, “I guess that's normal, Paul…”</p><p>Paul shook his head, “No...no...you don’t understand,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m <em> hearing </em> her…”</p><p>Oh...<em> Oh… </em></p><p>
  <em> Shit.  </em>
</p><p>“I don’t know how…”Paul muttered, his eyes filled with disbelief, “Or why...but it’s her…Somehow it’s her...”</p><p>If Paul was talking about his ability and the fact that he’d heard Emma in real life...then maybe they were alive.</p><p>“Are you..” Tom murmured, unwilling to let himself hope that his son was still alive. If he got those hopes up so quickly, then they’d be crushed just as fast, and he couldn’t do that, “Are you sure…”</p><p>Paul nodded, “I don’t know if she’s alive, or a ghost or something weird like that, but it’s her…” he shook his head, “I don’t know how else to explain it.”</p><p>“And you’re sure though...it’s her?” Tom asked. He knew that the bond shared between his sister-in-law and the man in front of him was very powerful. From what little he’d known about soulbonds, he knew that they were supposed to be extremely strong. When parts of a person’s soul completed another person’s soul, there was something that went deeper than typical romance and stuff. It was weird to him, that a woman like Emma, who Jane had said was the least romantic woman ever, would have such a deep bond with someone like Paul. Honestly though, it was astounding enough to him that Emma would fall in love to begin with. But could such a bond surpass the grave? </p><p>“What have you been hearing?” Tom asked, leaning forward, “Like...what makes you so sure that it’s her?” </p><p>“I mean-” Paul muttered, “It’s like I’m hearing fragments of letters….but I know it’s her...and it’s different from my ability...I know it is…” </p><p> Paul looked down. Tom could see how broken he’d been. How torn up the loss had been beating him up, even when one didn’t consider the fact that he’d had the shit beaten out of him. But somewhere, deep in those sad eyes of his, Tom could see that this was the only hope Paul was clinging to. Even though he couldn’t understand it, or have any guarantee that Emma was truly alive, the idea of it was giving him something to stay relatively alive for. He’d been in the brig for three days, and judging from the varying states of gashes and bruises, he would assume he’d been hit at least once a day. If he knew Schaeffer well, and he did, he’d say that she was trying to scare the man into silence, but there was something that made it clear Paul had no intention of giving up.</p><p>Paul was a terrible liar. There was no conceivable way that his story was in any way made up. Schaeffer had to know this, which is why she was trying to beat these hopes out of him.  </p><p>If they were gonna get Schaeffer off of his back, they needed him to act like he was defeated. A broken husk of the man he once was. If Schaeffer was using this brig stay to destroy any inkling of hope that he held, then he was going to have to convince her that she had succeeded.</p><p>“Paul,” he whispered, staring at the man’s eyes, “It would be smart to give up on this….”</p><p>“No!” Paul stood, clearly not catching Tom’s drift, “Tom, you don’t understand, if Emma’s alive then…” </p><p>“No, Paul,” Tom interrupted, keeping his voice as calm as he could, “If you want to walk out of here soon, like Emma would have wanted, you’d <em> stop talking about this </em>.” </p><p>Paul looked like he was gonna get angry for a moment before his eyes softened. Tom grinned inwardly as he recognized the lightbulb go off. </p><p>“Emma wouldn’t have wanted you doing this, Paul,” Tom laughed, “What the fuck were you thinking? Emma’s dead...no matter how badly you want her back…”</p><p>Paul said nothing and Tom swallowed back a great deal of guilt. They both knew that despite them acting for the sake of Schaeffer, there was some bitter truth in those words. If Paul was wrong, then Emma was truly dead...and it was likely that John, Xander, and Tim were true. </p><p>He’d never recover from losing Tim. Even thinking of the name sent a pang of nausea and agony up his spine. Becky had been spending the night in his apartment with him, just helping him when he woke up. In some ways she made it better. He’d wake up screaming out for Tim, and she’d be there, ready to help calm him down. Nothing more. </p><p>He didn’t deserve her help. He didn’t deserve any of the people in their little family, and he didn’t deserve to foster even the slightest hope that his son was alive, but he’d do whatever he could to fix the broken pieces of the life they’d once known. He had to. </p><p>With that, he inhaled and exhaled, “Think about it Paul…” he turned to go to the door before turning around to look at the broken man on the other side of the glass, “I’m sorry Paul….you know...about…”</p><p>He didn’t need to finish the sentence for Paul to nod, wiping at his eyes quickly. </p><p>Paul’s next words were choked off, “Me too…”</p><p>As the two men regarded one another, they knew all of the grief and pain that they’d experienced in the past few months was not an easy fix. In spite of whatever hope they had that the people they loved were still alive, there was always the knowledge that it was more likely that the people they would die a thousand deaths for were truly gone. </p><p>As Tom left the brig, part of his soul begged him to go and stage a jailbreak, to get the bloodied and broken Paul out of that shithole, return him to a life that might not have been perfect, but it would have been better for him. That perfectly described the life they were living right now. </p><p>Not good. But okay. </p><p>As he left the brig, and the heavy metal door slammed behind him, he nodded at Rodney, who managed a small guilty nod. </p><p>“How often are they hitting him?” He whispered to Rodney. </p><p>“Daily,” was the man’s response, “She <em> made </em>Martin do it too.”</p><p>“Christ,” Tom muttered. Paul was suffering in almost every sense of the word, and yet, June was still making others suffer for the sake of bringing him pain. Anyone who knew Peter Martin knew he hated hurting other people. It was why he worked primarily in mission control rather than operations, but since Schaeffer now had him <em> and </em>his wife on a leash…</p><p>Tom shook his head, “The reports go straight to Schaeffer, right?” </p><p>“Yes,” was the tired reply, “Top secret...though I’m not sure why..”</p><p>“She still wants the other survivors to think of her as a hero,” Tom answered bluntly, knowing the bitter truth behind it all. It was obvious that inspiring fear was indeed an effective way to keep the people working for June Schaeffer in line, but senseless brutality would definitely not look good. </p><p>“Just…” Tom began, “Keep an eye on him...please…” </p><p>With that, Tom turned on his heel and started to return to the operations department. He fought against the pang of nausea and grief that made its way up his torso, as memories of Tim’s smiling face appeared in his mind, making a lump form in his throat. He was reminded endlessly of toothy grins and grass stains. First steps and scraped knees. Learning how to ride a bike, or just watching him sleep as a newborn. </p><p>Kids had been Jane’s idea. Tom had always been on the fence about having children. After what had happened in Iraq, and with his official diagnosis of Post-Traumatic stress, he wasn't sure he could give any child the burden of having a messed-up father. Still, Jane became pregnant, and something told him it was meant to be. In the months leading up to Tim’s birth, he’d read countless parenting books. The only indicator of a parent that he’d had was his Aunt Cynthia, and still, he was fairly sure that telling a child to ‘get your shit together’ and smoking cigarettes in their presence was the way he would raise his kid. Cynthia’s parenting had worked on him, but this kid wasn’t him...they were gonna be their own person, and he wanted to be sure that he raised them in the light of the most supportive parent he could be. </p><p>Then, Tim had been born and everything changed. </p><p>Almost everything in his life had been  turned to something he would do for Tim. Tim hadn’t been a small baby. Oh no. The doctor who’d delivered him had said that he’d nearly ripped Jane apart when he’d been born, but Tom loved him instantly. This chunky, eight-pound six ounces baby with dark eyes so much like Jane’s. At first, he’d been unsure of what to do with the child, all he knew was that he loved him with everything that he had. Jane used to joke that Tom had become both mother and father. He’d unconsciously became a light sleeper specifically so he could jump up out of bed when Tim woke up in the middle of the night. Always attentive to almost everything that the baby needed.</p><p>Watching Tim grow had been one of the greatest joys he could ever have experienced. Jane had decided she didn’t want any more kids after Tim, worrying that if she were to have a second one, she’d never be able to love the second one as much as she loved Tim, afraid of repeating the cycle her parents had started, nearly <em> hating </em>Emma while they painted Jane in the portrait of a saint. Jane often said that it was her biggest regret that she hadn’t given Emma as much kindness as she should have when they were growing up, because their parents certainly hadn’t. Regardless, Jane only wanted one kid,  and he was okay with that. They both loved Tim with all that they had, and they would do all that they could to make sure Tim’s childhood was a happy one. They’d ensure that the little boy knew he was loved and had as much happiness as they could offer him. </p><p>His entire life revolved around Jane and Tim. </p><p>They’d been so happy. </p><p>And then the car crashed, because the universe demanded as much. </p><p>The order of the world had taken the woman he’d married from him. </p><p>Their marriage wasn’t perfect, but he loved her all the same. Sometimes she’d condescend. Sometimes he’d get angry. But they always managed to come to an agreement. They’d forgive and grant grace when it was due, and it always was. At the very base of it all, they were a happy family. </p><p>The universe had torn his world apart. </p><p>It had been a while before he’d even started to pick up the pieces, trying to hold it all together for the sake of his little boy. He missed Jane and mourned her with everything he had, but the truth was it was hard. </p><p>But now, Tim was taken too. </p><p>Tears dripped down his cheeks and he leaned against the wall before he reached the Operations department, trying to catch his breath as the images of Tim’s smile in his face made his chest feel like it was about to implode. </p><p>He was glad that Paul had some semblance of hope, but if he were wrong about them being alive...Tom would be fully destroyed. </p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 12th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Emma didn’t have any dreams after that last one.</p><p>She’d try so hard to fall asleep, to listen, to try and connect with Paul in any way she could, but to no avail.</p><p>It had been a week since she’d had that dream, and yet, she spent most nights lying awake, or waking up from nothingness after attempt after attempt to contact him again. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry, though, she was determined. </p><p>Part of her was scared that perhaps it truly was a dream. That her assumption that perhaps they’d been sharing a dream was just wishful thinking and that Paul was really just a figment of her subconscious. That she <em> wanted </em>him to hear her letters so badly, that she just assumed he did. </p><p>Still, all of her doubt didn’t stop her from trying. </p><p>They were so close. Probably only a week away now from getting through. </p><p>Part of her knew she should have been patient. They were so close, that it would be days before she saw him again, but the thought that he didn’t survive the coming of the Beings that now walked the earth compelled her to try harder. </p><p>She’d written him mental letters nightly, trying so hard to reach him and hope that wherever he was that he knew she was alive and she was fighting so hard to get back to him. Besides making sure they had something to at the very least feed Tim daily, this was her top priority. </p><p>The food supply had run short suddenly, limiting them to one-half cup of chicken broth and rice daily in order to keep them alive. Sometimes, she’d move some of her own portion into Tim’s portion as it was sickening to see how thin he was growing. Chumby was still fine, as he ate stuff that they couldn’t, but Lucy was almost as thin as a rake, her cheeks hollow and her eyes tired, in spite of the everlasting glow of optimism that flickered in her eyes. Even Xander and John, who’d been in prime physical form before all of this, were very obviously growing gaunt and thin with as little as they were eating. She’d searched the labyrinthine hallways of Hidgens’s basement over and over again, in hopes that they’d find some form of food that would sustain them just a little longer. </p><p>Another day came and passed and once more, and everyone but Emma was asleep. Xander had found more metal shards in the caves, but he never told her what they were. Still, he looked at them like they’d been sent from hell itself to torment him. She tried not to think much about it. It wouldn’t do her any good to worry, not when there was so much more at stake. </p><p>No, she wouldn’t think about how her empty stomach ached, or how her leg burned and stabbed at her, or the headaches which resulted from the lack of sleep and food. </p><p>She would think about keeping Tim alive, and trying to get into contact with Paul. </p><p>She lay against her pillow, feeling weak and completely empty. After a week of restless sleep and waking up constantly to the pain in her leg, head or stomach, she would just stare at the cavern ceiling, wondering where Paul was and what he was thinking. </p><p>The image of his bruised and bloodied face in the dream flashed in her mind. If their dream was shared, then he was actually hurt. The sight of it had given her a burst of anger. She couldn’t imagine anybody doing this to anyone...especially not Paul. </p><p>She sighed as she twisted over on her side and winced at the burning in her legs. </p><p>Part of her knew the odds weren’t great. They were slowly starving with what little they had to eat. The rocks were getting harder to lift as those who were in physical form were starting to deteriorate. Tim’s eye wasn’t getting better any soon, and unless she could suddenly grow a new leg, she was essentially useless. </p><p>She figured there was no point in just laying there and worrying about what was supposed to come and attempt to write Paul a letter again. </p><p><em> Dear Paul, </em> she began, unsure of where she should go. </p><p>Suddenly, she was at a loss for words. What was she supposed to do? Tell him how terrified she was? Tell him how she was holding onto something that very well may have been a false hope? Tell him how every single day she catalogued what food supply they had and could eat and every day it grew smaller and smaller? </p><p>At the base of it all, she was terrified. </p><p>But...Paul had never judged her when she was scared, had he? Paul had never been one to hold moments when she was at hyer weakest against her. Unlike everyone else who’d been in her life, he never judged her or made her feel inferior in any way. Instead, he’d helped her get out of the hole that was her own anxiety and pain. He made her stronger. </p><p>She could bare herself in her entirety, her soul, her scars, her grief, her worries, her burdens, to him and he would still treat her like she had been the one to paint the sunset. </p><p><em> Dear Paul, </em> she went on, <em> I’m...scared.  </em></p><p>
  <em> I’ve been writing these letters since that dream, and I have no idea if you even know I’m the one writing them. Frankly, I don’t even know if you’re even getting them. But this fucked-up dream that I’ve been having has made me feel like somewhere out there you can hear me. Like you know that these aren’t just empty hopes that are literally pointless.  </em>
</p><p>Tears streamed down her face as hopelessness began to consume her. </p><p><em> You know what? </em> She thought bitterly as she began to internally admonish herself, <em>  tThey probably are. Maybe I’m just being fucking stupid for believing in something like this. Paul, I just can’t give up on the hope that maybe the world isn’t completely awful because you’re out there somewhere. I would scream these words as loud as I can if my vocal cords weren’t raw from the dust and the crying and the pain that I’ve been experiencing on the dialy because life is a fuckin’ nightmare. </em></p><p>More tears streamed down her face as the throbbing in her leg began to join the party. </p><p>
  <em> I don’t really know what else to say, Paul. Maybe writing these have just been giving me something to hold onto, since something is most definitely better than nothing….but it's hard...I don’t know if I’ve already told you this, but everyday I feel so worthless and useless. Unable to help the others in digging us out, all because my leg got fucked up. I...I… </em>
</p><p>She swallowed hard and inhaled sharply as pain shot up what was left of her leg. She bit back tears and a scream of pain, arching her back as she squirmed, trying to shake the pain away, knowing it would be impossible. </p><p>
  <em> I would fucking scream it out Paul...if I knew that you would hear it…I would scream it so loud to tell you….I AM ALIVE…WE ALL ARE... </em>
</p><p>Her eyes filled with tears once more as she stifled sobs of agony and lacking of Paul. She missed him so much, and as her pain became close to its worst, she knew she wasn’t gonna conceal them any longer. </p><p>Her sobs left her quickly and hoarsely, unable to stifle them for much longer. They were quiet, leaving her in stifled choking sounds that didn’t rouse anyone from their sleep. Still, the stinging and boiling tears ran their rivers down her cheeks, in a stream that never seemed to end, sinking annoyingly into the skin of her neck and soaking the tips of her hair. She hated herself for crying, which regrettably made her cry harder and harder. </p><p>She was so focused on the pain, that she almost completely missed the small whisper at the back of her mind. </p><p>
  <em> “Dear Emma…” </em>
</p><p>Her breath hitched in her throat as she caught on to it. For a moment...she was so sure that she heard the sound of…</p><p>“<em> I don't know what I hope to accomplish with this...but I've been trying for the past few days in hopes that I might hear your voice once more, and you'd hear mine in return.” </em></p><p>There it was again. </p><p>Her heart pounded in her chest. </p><p>
  <em> Could it be? </em>
</p><p>It was his voice...she couldn’t think of anyone else whose voice would be as gentle and kind as his. Still, she could hear the brokenness and desperation in his voice...but...it couldn’t be…</p><p>
  <em> “You know, Em...in the dream. You said that we were connected...Maybe it’s stupid that I’m trying this, but you were right when it you said it distracts from the pain.” </em>
</p><p>Her mind was racing. Her heart pounding as exhilaration ran through her veins. </p><p>
  <em> “I’m supposed to be released from the brig in a little bit, but I want you to know that you were the one that made it all worthwhile. You gave me something to fight for. And I know, Em...even though you’re gone… you’re still the thing in my life that keeps me alive.” </em>
</p><p>She felt like she could sing from the highest mountains. </p><p>
  <em> She’d been right.  </em>
</p><p>She laughed through her choked-off sob as the realization hit her. </p><p>They <em> had </em>shared a dream, he had seen her, and now he was trying to get back to communicating with her, even if he wasn’t sure she was still alive. </p><p>She needed to make sure he knew...she needed to tell him. He needed to know. </p><p>Quickly, she tried to think of something to say through her thoughts, trying to get his attention that she could hear his words. Tears continued to drip down her face as adrenaline and frantic thoughts raced through her mind. </p><p>What was she to say?</p><p>Instead, she could only think of one word. </p><p>
  <em> Paul. </em>
</p><p>It was simple...but all she could think of was his name. A name that was probably more boring than mayonnaise, and yet it made her heart leap every time she heard it. She focused on the sound of his voice, his words light and methodical...and yet so fucking sappy. </p><p>He was her dork. </p><p>
  <em> Paul. </em>
</p><p>An image of his gorgeous eyes and dopey grin appeared in her mind, making her smile to herself and filling her with a warmness as she tried to reach out to his words, trying to grab at them with clumsy hands that always seemed to be slipping free of what she wanted to grab hold of. </p><p>
  <em> “I miss you so much, Em. Every single day…” </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Paul!</em></b>
</p><p>There was a pause in his words, an endless train of thought brought to a screeching halt. She worried for a moment that she’d lost track of him.</p><p>She tried again. </p><p>
  <em> Paul? </em>
</p><p>There was silence. Her heart sank as tears poured down her cheeks. She could hear him no longer. She wanted to scream and yell at the unfairness of it all. </p><p>
  <em> They’d been so close.  </em>
</p><p>Why was it that he’d heard her before all of this, and now she could hear him, and he couldn’t hear her? Why was the world so determined to screw her over? </p><p>She bit back tears and screams of frustration and pain, hating the world and the cruel game they’d been forced to play as unwitting pawns. </p><p>But before she could do anything rash. </p><p>Before she could plunge nose-first into an abyss of self-doubt and self-hatred. </p><p>Before she could accidentally wake others with her loss of hope. </p><p>A single word echoed through her skull. </p><p>One that suddenly made her doubts disappear. One that made her feel like she was suddenly free of a heavy blanket that had been weighing her down for what felt like forever. One that provided comfort </p><p>One. </p><p>Single. </p><p>Word. </p><p>And it wasn’t from herself, or anyone else in the cavern, all of them fast asleep, blissfully unaware of her mental torment. </p><p>No...it was from <em> him.  </em></p><p>She could have wept with joy as she heard it, recognizing the sound of her own name in her mind, said in his voice...so tentative and gentle...almost as if he was unsure he’d actually heard her. Though his voice was gentle and unsure, she could have screamed with excitement and joy. Tears tearing down her face as she grinned genuinely for the first time in what had been an excruciating eternity.</p><p>“<em> Em...Emma?”  </em></p><p>---</p><p>Hannah could feel it. </p><p>She could hear it.</p><p>She could hear it over the words of her sister, Ethan, and Mr. Houston as they discussed what Paul had told him earlier in the week. </p><p>She could feel the energies of a bond. One that was strong and unbroken. They were powerful and happy as shades of forest greens and stormy blues danced in her vision. It was almost as if she could hear a melody that they could too, only it wasn’t like the tantalizing rhythm Apatha was capable of. This was more like an epic tale the ancients would tell. A melody that conveyed the story of lovers with every pianissimo and fortissimo. With every crescendo she could sense their struggles and strife, and in every time the melody was lulled back to calmness she could sense the purity of their love. Their names sung over and over again as it restored a series of sounds that had been absent from her mind for several months. Their bond being the very thing that allowed her to see more clearly and know with every fibre of her being that the people she’d once mourned were alive.</p><p>Heartbeats where she could sense their souls. </p><p>Colors bursting with life and love and feeling. </p><p>Where she could see that the people she’d thought long dead were alive. </p><p>Four heartbeats, alongside the heartbeats of Lucy and Chumby’s.</p><p>Tim. John. Xander. Emma. </p><p>All of them. </p><p>Their voices restored in her mind as the signals of their lives returned to her. </p><p>Heartbeats. Breaths. Thoughts. </p><p>Everything was there, no longer silent as the barrier that Webby had tried to put between her and them melted away, overcome by the power of Emma and Paul’s bond. </p><p>She let out an excited shriek as the recognition burst into her mind, allowing Tom and the other s to turn to her in concern. </p><p>“Hannah?” Lex asked, walking over to her, her face contorted in concern, “You alright?” </p><p>Hannah smiled wide and nodded vehemently before looking at Tom, filled to the brim with so much happiness and excitement she could barely contain herself. </p><p>Before she could open her mouth to speak, the door to their apartment burst open to reveal Paul, bruised and bloodied still, but freshly released from his week in the brig. His eyes were wide. </p><p>“Paul!” Tom grinned slightly, “Good to see you out and about…” </p><p>Paul said nothing, only stumbling to Hannah, his eyes wide and a disbelieving smile on his face, almost as if he’d gotten good news of an immeasurable kind. And he had. </p><p>Hannah smiled knowingly as he stood in front of her, looking like he was a frozen mannequin, tears in his blue eyes. </p><p>“You alright, Paul?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow as he and Lex regarded the man with a weird expression.</p><p>Hannah heard them ask about the markings on his face, caused by Schaeffer and her unwilling operatives, but she didn’t care, as she and Paul regarded one another, they both were able to silently acknowledge the truth that had just been restored. A truth they’d both been desperate to discover. </p><p>“Paul?” Tom spoke, looking confused “Talk to us, what’s wrong?” </p><p>Paul turned, a disbelieving laugh leaving him as his smile grew, “Nothing’s wrong...nothing at all!”   </p><p>"Paul…” Ethan chuckled nervously, “You’re kinda freaking us out here, man, what’s up?” his eyes darted between Paul and Hannah, making Hannah giggle more. Paul echoed her laugh, more tears pouring from his eyes, “Is this a good day or a bad day?” </p><p>“Good,” Paul said quickly, his smile only growing, “Really...<em> really </em>good.”</p><p>All three of the confused peers turned to look at Hannah who only smiled. </p><p>
  <em> “Alive.”  </em>
</p><p>The word hung in the air for a short while before Tom, Lex, and Ethan realized the meaning of the word. Tom’s eyes widened as he glanced between Hannah and Tom. Lex and Ethan looked beyond words, glancing at one another with hope in their eyes. </p><p>Tom looked up, his voice barely a whisper as tears welled up in his eyes.</p><p>“All...of them?” he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks.</p><p>Hannah nodded, “All of them.”</p><p>Tom let out a loud, disbelieving laugh at her words, and was quickly joined by Paul, Ethan, and Lex, who exchanged laughs and tears and hugs of joy. They wouldn’t get to celebrate long, as the curfew bell would ring soon and they knew they couldn’t accidentally divulge anything to Schaeffer. Not when she was so hell-bent on hurting the people they loved. Still, they’d revel in this new hope. This knew knowledge that the people they’d spent so much time mourning had never truly been lost. </p><p>They were alive. And they <em> would </em>get them back.</p><p>Suddenly, for the first time in forever, as happy tears formed in Hannah Foster’s eyes, she felt in the room the presence of life, light, and hope. </p><p>Above all else, hope. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*screaming*</p><p>So...a whole lot happened there, huh?</p><p>THEY FIGURED IT OUT!!!!<br/>Also, please do not mind the self-indulgent ✨Paulkins✨</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like to! If you have any questions, you can just leave them in the comments or, you could send me an ask on Tumblr. No matter what, though, I appreciate you guys for taking the time to read my stuff!!!</p><p>SO SORRY FOR THE LONG CHAPTER AGAIN!!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I really appreciate all of you for taking the time to read these long, convoluted chapters! Please remember to be kind to yourself and your fellow human beings and WEAR A MASK!!!!</p><p>Thanks again!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Last Shred of Truth in the Lost Myth of True Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul is determined.<br/>Emma learns some new information which brings her pain.<br/>Bill hopes he’s making the right choice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song ’Talk’ by Hozier (It even has Orpheus and Eurydice references which is just...convenient)</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: PTSD, Schaeffer</p><p>This chapter takes place three days after the last one!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 15th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p>   </p><p>It had taken everything in Paul’s power for him to maintain the facade of a grieving man. For the sake of fooling Schaeffer, after his visit with Tom all those days ago, he’d acted like he was insistent on believing he was hearing Emma’s voice, before fading slowly into a faux-form of acceptance that she was gone. He’d never been much of a performer (thank God), but he hoped that this would be enough to keep Schaeffer at bay when it came to considering whether or not he was a madman. He just hoped that he’d read Tom’s expression right when it came to pretending like he no longer cared...As if he could almost forget that Emma’s memory had mattered to him at all.</p><p>As his week-long stay in the brig came to an end, the beatings became less frequent, allowing some of the new wounds and bruises time to heal slowly and painfully before he was released back into society. While he felt like he should have felt indignant at the way he was being treated, he was too preoccupied with communicating with Emma during that time to care. </p><p>He’d never expected to be successful. </p><p>All those days he’d spend in the brig, writing letters for a woman the world insisted was dead, he wondered if it was all just a waste of time.  He still heard her, but it was in whispered fragments, and he needed the answers, so his determination had only grown and grown as his sentence came to its end. </p><p>Then, on his final day...it happened. </p><p>He’d been writing her a letter within the hour he was supposed to be released, when he began to hear fragments of her words again, making him all the more confident to connect, writing his letter furiously. </p><p>Then he’d heard his name. </p><p>His name. Her voice. </p><p>All of it echoing in his mind endlessly. </p><p>
  <em>She’d heard him.  </em>
</p><p>He’d been overtaken with so much joy at that moment he’d wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, but he knew it would only make Schaeffer all the more suspicious, and he needed to act like he was growing more and more indifferent to the fact that Emma was “gone”, in spite of the sound of her voice in his head suggesting otherwise. </p><p>   </p><p>“<em> Paul?” </em></p><p>
  <em>The sound of his own name reverberating through his mind cut off his letter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was stunned speechless for what must have been hours...or mere seconds. He didn’t know.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was hearing her voice again. Only this time...it sounded like it was in response to something he was saying.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What should he say?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If she had heard him, mere moments before he was supposed to be released from the brig, then he had to say something in response. He needed to know that it was true that she was hearing him, and he was hearing her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So, he thought of the only word he could think of.  </em>
</p><p>‘Em-Emma?’</p><p>
  <em> “Paul?” the response was almost immediate, it sounded shocked and hopeful.  </em>
</p><p>‘Emma?’ </p><p>
  <em> He repeated her name again, he could think of nothing else to say. After all, what were you supposed to say to someone who was supposed to have been dead for nearly four months?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is this…” her voice was so beautiful, so gentle and tentative, almost as if she was unsure she was actually communicating with him, “Fuck...is this really you?” </em>
</p><p>‘Yeah,’ <em> he thought quickly, his mind racing as he processed her beautiful and wonderful voice, ‘ </em>Yeah-yeah...it’s me...is this really...you?’</p><p>
  <em> He waited for the answer, almost unsure of what to think...he steadied himself against the boards of his cot, waiting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Holy shit,” her voice (or was it her thoughts that he was hearing) sounded like it was mid-sob or mid-laugh. Maybe it was both, “Yeah...yes it’s me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stifled a tearful laugh as the wonderful sound of her laughter echoed in his mind.  </em>
</p><p>‘You mean…’ <em> he thought, daring to allow himself to hope, ‘ </em>You-You’re...you’re alive?’</p><p>
  <em> “Yes!” she laughed tearfully, “Yes! Yes, Paul! I’m alive! We all are!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He laughed slightly, tears running down his face as a grin he couldn’t suppress spread across his face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was alive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could hear her thoughts.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could hear her heartbeat.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was alive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alongside her heartbeat, he could hear the sounds of snoring, a child’s, the small mumbling of a familiar boy’s voice as he whispered in his sleep. He recognized Tim’s voice as he murmured something about a car in his sleep, making him laugh. He also recognized the sounds of snoring that likely came from men around his own age, possibly John and Xander. He smiled wider at the realization that they were all alive. The people they’d spent so long mourning the loss of were alive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All of them.  </em>
</p><p>‘Oh my God,’ <em> He thought, crying harder, ‘ </em>Oh my God...you...you’re alive...I can’t, I don’t…’</p><p>
  <em> “I know…” she laughed, “I can’t fucking believe it! It’s been so long and I didn’t...I couldn’t…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She paused for a moment as a tearful laugh left her, making him laugh with her. She went on quickly, her words leaving her in a way that sounded like she’d been so desperate to say them for months.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “God, Paul...I love you so much…” she sounded like she was crying, “So...so much…”  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> I love you too, Em…’ <em> Tears rolled down his cheeks as the words left his mind. He’d wanted to say them to her too, as many times as he could to her since she’d left him to go on that mission. Since she’d left to go save Tim, he’d wished with every fiber of his being that he could tell her how much he loved her. How many ways he wished he could show her he loved her.  </em></p><p>
  <em> When he thought she’d died, he hated himself for not saying it enough. For not manning-up and spending as much time as he could. He’d hated himself for all the time he’d wasted with hesitation and longing...he should have just told her how he felt sooner, maybe then the world wouldn’t have given them such rotten luck, and he wouldn’t be mourning the life he’d wanted so badly with her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But now, here he was, being given a second chance.  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> God, Em,’ <em> he thought again, wiping furiously at his eyes, ‘ </em>I love you so much...and I’m so sor-’</p><p>
  <em> “No,” she answered back, “No admonishment, Paul. This is something good and right...this is something happy...and I want it to be that way…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She went silent for a while, both of them just filled with some form of melancholy elation. God, he wished she was right there so he could hug her...to hold her again. To have some tangible proof that the woman he loved was alive...he knew she was, of course, but his heart ached to have her in his arms once more. God, the first thing he was going to do when he saw her again was hug her. He was going to hug her so tight that he didn’t want to let go of her. They’d been ripped from one another so many times that it didn’t seem fair for them to be kept apart any longer. But he would wait.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d wait for as long as he had to before he saw her again. He’d do anything for it to happen. As long as he held her again, he would do it.  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> Are…’ <em> he began, his worries and concerns from his dreams popping up in his mind, ‘ </em>Are you okay? A-Are you hurt?’</p><p>
  <em> Her response was a humorless laugh, “In a manner of speaking…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He vaguely remembered her mentioning that her leg got injured in the dream as she went on. Nausea crammed up in his stomach as he remembered her description of being crushed, and he couldn’t bear it, “But those are worries for later...what matters now is that you know we’re alive...and we’re coming home…” </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> When?’ <em> he asked her, desperation consuming her, ‘ </em>Please...anything I can do to make it happen faster, just tell me...please, Em…’</p><p>
  <em> He wanted them all home. He wanted Tom to have his son back and PEIP to have it’s rightful leaders back. Above all else, he wanted Emma home. He wanted them safe.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Soon…” Emma said, her voice hopeful, “We think within the next week...probably.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could have wept at the idea, all of them coming home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d be there...within a week... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just a week ago he’d been so sure that she was gone, and now… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They spoke a little bit more, talking about how much they missed one another, but as time went on, her voice began to grow fainter, and a wave of exhaustion poured over him. He didn’t care, as long as he was talking to Emma, that was all that mattered. He would talk to her forever, and bear the weight of it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How are we doing this?” she mused, after she updated him on Tim’s half-blindness, and the fact that the rations were running low- which did nothing to calm him, “I mean, do you think it’s your abilities...or something else?”  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> It doesn’t matter,’ <em> he thought back to her, fighting back a yawn, ‘ </em>We’re talking to each other...I don’t care how much it takes from me…’</p><p>
  <em> “From you?” she said, sounding worried, “Paul...what do you mean?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He straightened. He didn’t mean to say that.    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul…” she began, “Is this hurting you?”  </em>
</p><p><em> He shook his head as if she could see it before thinking in response, ‘ </em>No…’</p><p>“<em> I don’t believe that,” she responded sharply. Perceptive as always.  </em></p><p><em> He sighed, ‘ </em>Just a little tired, Em...I’m fine…’</p><p>
  <em> Just then, he heard the clank of the brig door being opened from the outside.  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em>Oh no.’</p><p>
  <em> “What? What’s ‘oh no’?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He inwardly cursed himself. He hadn’t meant to think that.  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> Someone’s coming…” <em> he stifled a yawn as he couldn’t bring himself to care, his eyelids felt extremely heavy as the energy he was putting into talking to her dragged him under. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Paul?” her voice sounded someone frantic, “Paul, you’re getting quieter…” </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em>S’nothing…’</p><p>
  <em> “It’s very obviously not,” she said, “Let go, Paul...I’ll still be here…” </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> No!’ <em> suddenly he was very awake </em>, ‘No, what if I can’t find you again…?’</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t want to let go of her. He didn’t want to stop talking to her. The idea of her voice leaving him was sickening. He couldn’t let go of her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You will,  Paul,” she assured him, her voice being filled with a form of faith he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Emma use in the time he’d known her,  “I don’t want to stop either, but I need you at your best...we all do…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyelids felt like they were made of lead as he felt himself slumping exhaustedly down on his cot as the gears and creaking of the door, which probably either needed to be oiled or replaced signaled that someone was trying to get into the room.  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> Please…’ <em> he thought to her, </em>‘Please find me again…’</p><p>
  <em> “I always do…” she said softly, her voice fading as they struggled to hold onto one another for the last few final moments that they could.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the door swung open, her voice was barely a whisper, and his eyes closed, giving the people he couldn’t identify entering the room the impression that he’d been sleeping.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you,  Paul,” she whispered, he could sense the sadness and longing in her voice as her voice faded from his mind, sleep claimed him, “Forever and always…” </em>
</p><p><em> ‘ </em> Forever and always, Em…’ <em> with that, the world around him had gone black for just a few moments before he was roughly shaken awake by Schaeffer’s men, allowing him out of the brig to be reintegrated into their makeshift society. He’d gone straight to Lex and Ethan’s apartment, to subtly give them the good news, as he could tell Hannah already knew. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>They’d decided to keep it as low-key as possible, trying to keep this new, exciting information away from Schaeffer for as long as possible. They were the only people who knew about it. He, Tom, Lex, Ethan, Hannah, and Becky, who’d joined their group after her hours of work got cut back a little (which, in turn, meant that her benefits got cut back a little bit, but Becky didn’t truly care). The news of everyone they missed being alive had been so much for them to handle but conceal all the same. </p><p>When the alarm bell rang, signaling that another day of work had been done, he was quick about standing and walking to the door, when he was stopped by Bill again, followed by Ted. </p><p>“Hey, Paul,” Bill said, clapping him gently on the shoulder, not noticing Paul flinch as his still-sore bruises from his time in the brig hadn’t completely healed yet, “How’re you doing?”</p><p>“I’m fine, Bill,” Paul managed a small smile, too desperate to meet Lex and Ethan for a silent meeting in which they would pass subtle notes to one another just in case June was still having him followed, “I’m just excited to go home…” </p><p>He really hoped his voice was convincing. It wasn’t that he wanted to avoid Bill, it was just the fact that he wanted so desperately to tell him how happy he really was, how anxious he was for Emma to come back home, how he wasn’t in mourning any more, he knew that if he maintained a conversation with Bill long enough, he would end up giving it all away and jeopardize their whole mission of getting Emma and the others back. </p><p>Ted snorted annoyingly from behind Bill, “Well...are you gonna ask him?” </p><p>Bill rolled his eyes and Paul sighed inwardly, “Ask me what?” </p><p>Ted snorted again as if it were obvious. Bill looked down guiltily as Ted began to speak. </p><p>“Paul, c’mon,” he smiled annoyingly, “You can’t just disappear for a week and expect us not to ask….”</p><p>Paul cursed inwardly. He should have known this conversation would have been coming. He’d tried to avoid Bill and Ted (mostly Ted) specifically for this reason. He knew that if he uttered a word of what Schaeffer had ordered to be done to him while he was in the brig, he would likely be in much bigger trouble than before. While he didn’t want them to be suspicious, even breathing a word of what had happened to him would likely put their own operation at risk. Bill was trusting enough in him, right? He would trust him enough to believe what Paul said until the truth was revealed. </p><p>“Would you believe me if I told you it was classified?” Paul sighed, unable to think of anything else</p><p>Ted sighed and shook his head, “See? I told you he wouldn’t tell you anything.”</p><p>Bill sighed, “Paul...we just want some answers...you were gone a week.”</p><p>“I know, Bill,” Paul muttered, “And I’m sorry...but that’s all I’ve got…” </p><p>Bill sighed and looked down, “We’re just trying to look out for you, Paul.” </p><p>“Well, he is,” Ted chuckled, “I’m not...I’m just legitimately curious…”</p><p>Paul stifled an eye-roll as he looked at Bill, fighting against the pang of guilt that rose in his chest. He knew that Bill was just trying to be a good friend, but there was so much he couldn’t tell him. There was so much that had to remain a secret, for Emma’s sake, and the people on the other side. He’d have to keep the secret from Bill for as long as he could.</p><p>Bill nodded, looking hurt, “ I get it…”</p><p>“Really?” Ted rolled his eyes, “You’re not even gonna-”</p><p>“No,” Bill shook his head, looking determined, “General Schaeffer knows what’s best, so clearly if what happened is classified-”</p><p>“<em> Schaeffer,” </em>Paul began, cutting Bill off before he had time to think, “Is a liar…” </p><p>It took him a moment before he realized he said it, but judging from the looks on Bill and Ted’s faces, he’d said it loud enough for them to comprehend his sudden disgust that the name ‘Schaeffer’ had instilled in him. He inwardly cursed himself for not thinking before he spoke. It was always in moments where it counted that his lips were the loosest. </p><p>Actually, he was glad that he’d said it. It was the truth. She <em> was </em>a liar. She gave them all false hopes and something to believe in while holding the lives of the ones they loved most over their heads. </p><p>Ted’s shit-eating grin expanded over his face, “Wow...I didn’t know you had that in you, Paul.” </p><p>Bill elbowed Ted and looked up at Paul with wide eyes, “You shouldn’t say things like that, Paul...she’s been doing everything in her power to keep all of us safe…You know that, right?”</p><p>Paul merely shrugged, worried that he’d said too much already. He managed a small nod before sighing, “I’ve got to go...I’ll see you guys tomorrow...okay?” </p><p>Bill looked down again, looking sad and confused. Paul tried to bite back any assurances that he could have offered his friend, feeling awful. He’d already said too much, and at any second, if he kept talking, it was likely he’d let it slip what Schaeffer had done to him, or the knowledge that Emam was alive. He couldn’t risk that, no matter how shitty of a friend he felt like he was. </p><p>    He offered the man one small smile before he began to walk back in the direction of his apartment, not wasting any time at all to get to Lex and Ethan’s apartment, where they would be waiting with the updates they’d received from Tom earlier in the day. </p><p>In order to avoid suspicion, they had worked out a system, as they were still fairly certain that June was watching them. Paul would go into their apartment, under the pretense that they were checking up on one another, managing a small conversation, while they exchanged written accounts of anything relating to their mission. Paul mostly wrote the few updates he was able to get from Emma, since communicating with her, he found was exhausting (a fact that limited their conversations to small ten-minute increments) him to the bone, on old copies of reports, that way if there was any visual surveillance done on him, they would assume he was working on stuff related to his actual job. Lex and Ethan would give him written out accounts they’d gotten from Hannah throughout the day and updates from Tom that he or Becky would discreetly give them throughout the day in order to exchange information safely and securely. So far, the system had worked and nobody had asked about it. Of course, that didn’t mean that they were out of the woods, but it was enough that they managed to exchange information nonverbally and avoided one of them ending up in the brig again. </p><p>Paul, Becky, and Tom had all decided that they wanted to avoid putting Lex and Ethan in danger as much as possible. Since Hannah was under age to be subjected to the brig, the only risks they had associated with it was drawing the two people responsible for taking care of Hannah in jeopardy. Because Hannah was too young to work for PEIP, the benefits and rations they received came from the work that Lex and Ethan took part in. If either one of them were to end up in the brig, then Hannah wouldn’t eat and they would not have that. Paul would give them his rations if needed, but ideally, neither of them would end up in the brig. He couldn’t allow them to be hurt in the ways that he had. </p><p>As he approached Lex and Ethan’s door, he swallowed hard, hoping that perhaps, Tom had some good news for them. When Emma had off-handedly mentioned that they were running low on rations in Hidgens’ dilapidated basement with only one way of escape that wasn’t completed yet, they’d tried to come up with a subtle way that would get PEIP to speed up the digging process and just <em> happen </em>to stumble across the survivor group (an operation Emma had told him they called Eurydice). The plan was to have Tom go to Schaeffer and ask for an attempt to be made to retrieve the body of his son so he could give him a proper burial service of sorts. Because of Tom’s influence at PEIP and former friendship with Schaeffer (as Tom had quickly declared that because Schaeffer had kept his son from him, she was no friend of his), he would have some sort of pull on the way that the operations department could carry things out. Unfortunately, Schaeffer had sealed off the closet and tunnel with guards, which meant that no secret attempts to dig them out from the other side could be made, so the best plan lay with Tom appealing to whatever humanity Schaeffer was in possession of. </p><p>He knocked gently on the door, and it opened quickly, the grime-covered face of Lex greeting him with a smile, “Hey, Paul. Come on in!” </p><p>Because Lex and Ethan both worked in the mechanics bay, they often came home covered in soot and grime and smelling like motor oil. Paul had no idea what it was that they worked on down there, but he knew from the look of it alone, that they’d been working hard. </p><p>“How was your day?” he asked her as he walked into her apartment, subtly opening his small briefcase to retrieve the report-shief that he’d smuggled from the recycling to write his own update for them on. </p><p>“Fine,” Lex sighed. </p><p>Hannah popped up from the place she’d been snuggling into the couch, “Not fine...still no info on Ethan’s dad…”</p><p>Paul paused, looking down, “I’m sorry…”</p><p>Since he’d returned from the brig, he’d learned from Lex that Ethan would make several trips weekly to visit the registry office, to see if he could find any information on the people that they were missing. Before they’d known that John, Emma, Xander, and Tim were alive, they were on his list of people he’d ask after, but the top one was his father, Tony. According to Lex, every trip that Ethan made was unsuccessful, and every time Paul was notified of it, his heart broke just a little bit more for the boy. </p><p>Hannah stood and walked over to him, looking up at him with big eyes that made him smile softly, “How was your day?” </p><p>“Ehh…” he shrugged, it was likely Hannah already knew how his day had gone. Unlike him, she could sense and har things that went beyond human thought.</p><p>“Annoying friend,” she nodded, “Bad box got him. Nice friend...watched.”</p><p>He quirked an eyebrow, “I guess so, Han, you’d know better than me…”</p><p>She nodded, “ No trouble...not yet…” </p><p>Lex walked back over to him as he retrieved the file, keeping the conversation of work going as they slipped the papers across the table. He gave her the reports to be delivered to both them and Tom, and she gave him their own reports as well as Tom and Becky’s.</p><p>The door opened and he was met by a very down-trodden looking Ethan. </p><p>“Heya, Paul,” Ethan greeted him, managing a small sad smile, “What’s up?” </p><p>Paul shrugged, “Nothing much...just wanted to check up on you guys before I went home...as per usual.”</p><p>Ethan nodded before setting his uniform jacket away to reveal how much grime and dust coated the boy’s arms. In some ways, it reminded Paul of the rusted walls of the brig. In Ethan’s eyes, he could see exhaustion and grief that the boy tried so hard to conceal in light of new events. He was so young, and yet, he managed to be so strong through it all. </p><p>“Any new news?” Lex asked, walking up to Ethan to kiss him lightly on the cheek before she used a washcloth to wipe away at the grease that coated her own face. </p><p>Ethan shook his head, “Nothing on my dad...or the others, sorry Paul…”</p><p>Ah. Now came the time where they attempted to convince whoever was watching them that they still thought Emma and the others were dead. </p><p>He looked down and nodded with a sad smile that he hoped looked convincing, “It’s...it’s okay, Ethan…”</p><p>He glanced down at his watch, “Oh shoot, curfew’s in less than a minute…” </p><p>Ethan smiled, “Then get outta here, we’ll see you tomorrow…”</p><p>“Of course,” Paul nodded, “See you then!” </p><p>“Bye, Paul!” Hannah cheered happily as he closed their apartment door behind him. </p><p>They were good kids. </p><p>They were so undeserving of all the shit life was throwing at them, and yet they managed to survive in ways he was fairly certain capable adults would never be able to. They had no familial or romantic ties to anybody that had been lost. They didn’t <em> have </em>to be involved in the fight to get them back, and still, they insisted to be a part of it, only reinforcing that they’d become their own little makeshift family before they’d been torn apart. </p><p>He had a fondness for them. He’d never been good with kids or connecting with people in general, and yet, when he was around them, he felt like he could be some form of influence in their lives, helping them through the tough times, as they did for him, even before he’d known that Emma was alive. </p><p>They’d taken the news that the people they’d been mourning for so long were alive, and they were willing to lay everything on the line to get them back, doing what they could to make circumstances better for not just themselves but other people on the base. </p><p>He really admired them and their tenacity.</p><p>With a sigh, he locked his own apartment door behind him, ready to shed all of today</p><p>It was very methodical, the way he would look at the reports he’d been given. He’d go in his apartment, make sure the lights were dim enough, and go to the far corner of the living room where he’d pushed his makeshift desk. If anyone was watching him, he’d made sure he was at an angle where nobody would be able to see his work and the information that they needed to pass along. </p><p>Ever since he’d learned that they were alive, he’d <em> needed </em>more information on what they could do from their side. Every second he spent in the knowledge that they were alive, the more he focused on it. The more desperate he became in regards to finding a way that he could help them. If it weren’t for the men with guns that guarded the storage closet, as Tom had informed them of two days before, he would have gone into the tunnel himself and broken it down with as much force as he could, stone by stone until he got them back. The only problem was, he was fairly certain that if he did that, it would come back and hurt Emma and the others in the end, which was something he wasn’t willing to risk. </p><p>He slowly opened the small collection of papers Lex had passed to him, treating each one with care. He’d update Emma on what Tom had later. It just gave him an excuse to talk to her, which he still strangely felt like he needed, in spite of the knowledge they shared that they could just talk to each other with no excuse. He just wanted her home and safe.</p><p>He carefully opened the papers, looking through the leaflets like he was analyzing data when he came across Tom’s message. </p><p>He smiled to himself. Tom had recently taken to a form of sending messages by highlighting certain words and letters on old recycled files as a way of communicating with Paul. He always used an orange highlighter, so he didn’t get it confused with the usual yellow, and Paul was able to easily tell what Tom was trying to communicate without having to decipher the man’s messy scrawl. </p><p>It took him a while to string together the highlighted words and phrases in his head, but he soon managed to get the hang of the first sentence of Tom’s report. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Negative oN DigGInG through. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Damn. </em>
</p><p>He should have known that Schaeffer would have no humanity to appeal to. This meant that they could do no digging from their side to get them out quicker, which meant that Emma and the others would go longer without proper medical care and without proper food. This meant it would take longer for Tim to go without seeing his father and without his eye getting the help that he needed. </p><p>Paul tapped his knuckles together in his lap as all of his worries surrounding Emma and the others rose greatly. They deserved help. They deserved to be taken care of.</p><p>He felt inadequate to be dealing with this. </p><p>The fact that he was already on Schaeffer’s radar was not helping. </p><p>Still, somebody had to do something since Schaeffer most definitely was not. Even if he wasn’t the most qualified to free some of the people he cared about most, he <em> had </em>to. He didn’t have time to wallow in the fact that Emma and the others deserved someone far more capable and bold to make their case. All that mattered was getting them out.</p><p>He turned the page on Tom’s report, trying to scan for more orange spots and decipher any more information Tom would have to offer. Much to his own dismay, he found none. </p><p>
  <em> That was it?  </em>
</p><p>Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised. With as much as Schaeffer was keeping to her chest, it was no surprise that Tom and the others hadn’t found anything. He just wished there was just a little more. With a defeated sigh, he crumpled up the papers he’d been given, after making sure there were no more messages to be found, and threw them into the small furnace in the corner, before igniting it and watching as the papers were consumed by the embers. He could leave no evidence behind to indicate that he was looking for something that Schaeffer didn’t like. </p><p>As he watched the reports be consumed by the small flame, he wondered what Emma might have been doing at the moment. He could still hear her thoughts, but he didn’t want to be invading her mental privacy. Her thoughts were only something he was privy to if <em> she </em>saw fit, and he would by no means violate that. It was part of this, that made his ability such an awkward thing and why he’d stopped using it for so long. He hated intruding where he wasn’t welcome, and after a lifetime of feeling like he was unwelcome everywhere, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the relationships he did have. Even if hearing her voice reminded him that she was alive, he would just have to have that faith until she was there again. </p><p>He missed her beyond all imagination. </p><p>It had been that way while he thought she was dead, but somehow, the knowledge that she was alive had only made it all the worse. The knowledge that they were separated by what was presumably a few feet of rocks and stones made the fact that he could do next to nothing as of now all the more frustrating. He hated feeling as useless as he did, but he knew that if he were to do anything that would arouse suspicion from Schaeffer, he’d been even more useless, and that was something he couldn’t risk. </p><p>He wasn’t hungry, the whole day had worked itself past him in a blur of time and agonizing seconds. Only, unlike the days before he’d known they were alive, he wanted nothing more than to work on getting them out. In a way, that’s what he would do through surveying the intel that came into the information and intelligence department, but he still had a job to do in order to avoid suspicion. He was distracted though. Distracted by the thoughts of Emma, Tim, John, and Xander (and the two new people that Emma had mentioned in their last conversation), trapped in the remnants of Hidgens’ basement, slowly starving to death while the leaders refused to do anything. The thought was sickening and filled him with an anxiety he couldn’t quite understand. </p><p>He could barely sleep, unless he was compelled to by the energy that was drained from him with every brief conversation he shared with Emma, as the worries surrounding their whole mission would plague his mind., He often found himself pacing the floor, just...thinking. </p><p>What if he fucked it all up?</p><p>What if he did something wrong that ruined the whole operation, and Emma and the others were trapped in the tunnel forever?</p><p>He couldn’t help but worry that he was doing it all wrong. </p><p>He didn’t get time to reflect on these worries, however, as a familiar voice chimed in his mind, making all the worry and pain melt away. </p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Paul, you have a moment?”  </em>
</p><p><em> For you, Em, </em> he responded quickly, a happy smile growing on his face as he listened to the sound of her voice, taking it in for every single syllable, <em> Always. </em></p><p>---</p><p>The day had been long. </p><p>They were still on the same level of rations, and yet, they were running low quickly, it was making Emma feel sick. </p><p>She wouldn’t let them starve, she couldn’t...and yet, the professor who’d once seemed so prepared for everything was letting them down as the rice and broth were running painfully low. </p><p>She’d skipped her meal yesterday, offering it to Tim instead, who looked tired and haggard, a collection of skin and bone. She’d do it again tomorrow and distribute her portion to those who probably needed it more than she. Of course, they didn’t notice her pantomiming eating from an empty bowl, not that it mattered. They were eating and she would gladly skip eating for a day or two to keep it that way. </p><p>Besides, they were <em> days </em>away, now. Chumby was working harder than ever, rolling rocks and stones quickly, and Xander presumed that they would have a breakthrough in three or four days, thereby allowing them to escape back into the PEIP base, where they’d be back with the people who loved them best. </p><p>When she told them that she was able to briefly communicate with Paul and that he knew they were alive, morale had spiked in the cave. Lucy, of course, had asked her several questions about her bond with Paul and how it worked and talked excitedly about how romantic it was that they shared something like that. Tim had given her several mini-messages and questions that she would pass onto Paul and give him updates on the world they knew. It had been a huge help for Tim to know that Tom was alive and that he was waiting for him on the other side, Becky too, as the little boy had last heard that Tom was in surgery and Becky had been in a burning apartment when he’d seen her. She updated John and Xander methodically on what Paul told her life was like for them under the rule of Schaeffer, several of the details of which had caused all of them to raise an eyebrow, but they were predominantly glad that Paul now knew they were alive. Paul had told them that he couldn’t tell Schaeffer what he knew, as Schaeffer was not someone he personally could trust as of yet but would find another way to get them out faster.  </p><p>All in all, the fact that Paul knew they were alive and passed the information on to those who mattered to them was a major source of motivation for them when it came to working in the tunnel. They only worked faster, knowing that the other side was still there and that there were still people waiting for them. People who would welcome them back with open arms. </p><p>She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been dreaming of the moment she would be with Paul again. He’d probably cry...she would too, but it wouldn’t matter because they’d be together again. They’d be in one another’s arms. She would hug him first, taking him in for everything that he was, re-memorizing every inch of him that she missed so dearly. His smile, his scent, his laugh, his eyes, every part of Paul Matthews that she’d loved with everything she had. Just...<em> him.  </em></p><p>Any cynical part of her had been thrown out the window when she’d realized he knew she was alive. She didn’t care how gross it was that she was filled with butterflies and excitement when she thought of him, she just wanted to be home already. Home meant Paul, and she wanted that more than anything besides making sure Tim wouldn’t starve. </p><p>In spite of how excited and joyful she was every time she thought of Paul, she did everything in her power to make sure they’d get back home, which, of course, meant that they stayed together and stayed alive. She would focus on Tim and make sure he was healthy and make sure that when he was in Tom’s arms again, he’d be a smiling, happy little boy. He’d be a kid again, not some doomsday survivalist. He’d be….just Tim Houston...a little scarred and with a little bit of trauma, but still the son of Jane and Tom. Still a happy, smiling little ball of energy. Still the nephew she and Paul loved so much. </p><p>The day had gone by quickly and Lucy emerged from the tunnel with a bright smile on her face as the time came for rations to be distributed. </p><p>“We’ve made quite a bit of progress!” she cheered as she sat down, wiping the dust and dirt from her face as Tim bounced over to her to give her her rations, “Should be any day now!” </p><p>Emma smiled. In addition to the good news about Paul, the girl’s enthusiasm surrounding their progress had done wonders for their morale. Behind Lucy, Chumby clambered up, picking spare pebbles and stones from his thick black fur. In his dark eyes, she could see the same form of excitement that Lucy was radiating. It made her smile. In some ways, their excitement seeped into Tim, which had made the little boy share in their joy and almost ignore how difficult things were. That was something she could be grateful for any day of the week. </p><p>Behind Lucy and Chumby, John and Xander walked out of the cave, wearily smiling at Tom as he brought them their rations. They looked a lot more tired nowadays, especially since Xander had drawn up those pieces of metal from the cave. He’d not told them what they were, or why he’d often cast disdainful looks at the broken pieces, but she could tell that he was hiding something from them. Still, she wouldn’t pry. He’d share them when he wanted to. </p><p>Only, sharing time, it appeared would be now. </p><p>“I have something I need to tell you guys,” Xander said sharply, inhaling and exhaling like he’d been dreading it for weeks, “It’s important...and…”</p><p>He trailed off as if he was unable to find the right words. </p><p>John, from his place beside Xander, took his hand and set his own bowl down, squeezing  Xander’s hand gently before looking up, “It may determine whether or not our return is as easy as we want it to be…” </p><p>Lucy looked confused, “What...what do you mean?” </p><p>Emma shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder where he’d sat down beside her, leaning his weight into one of the squeaky wheels. Xander rarely looked this...defeated and guilty. It wasn't something she was familiar with on Xander, and yet, as she looked into the man’s eyes, she could see that there was something truly serious.</p><p>“Xander,” she prompted, keeping her voice even and calm, “What is it?” </p><p> Xander sighed, “We…” he looked up at John who nodded encouragingly, “We have reason to believe that the cave-in was no accident...that it wasn’t the result of what was going on upside.” </p><p>Emma’s thoughts began to race, “What do you mean...what do you mean ‘not an accident’?”</p><p>“We think…” Xander bit his lip before looking up at Emma, meeting her eyes guiltily, “We think someone tried to kill us, Emma…and we think it was someone within PEIP.”</p><p>Emma’s grip on Tim tightened as Xander stood and retrieved the pile of metal from beside his and John’s mattress.</p><p>Someone had meant to kill them?</p><p>She could hear her heart thundering in her ears. </p><p>Why would anyone want to kill them? And if that was the case, who would be heartless enough to try and kill them in the presence of a <em> child, </em>knowing he could have been killed too?</p><p>The very thought filled her with anxiety and fury. She wasn’t allowed to dwell on her anger as Xander sat in front of them the pieces of metal in his hands suddenly looking like weapons.</p><p>“A few weeks ago, ” he explained setting the metal out in front of him and arranging each of the pieces intently, “I found one of these pieces in the cave...at first, I thought it was a dented piece of metal...but it has a code that corresponds with the workings from my lab on it. As time went on, John and I found more pieces and I have nothing to do, but recognize this as a weapon of my own making.”</p><p>“You made this?” she asked, incredulous. </p><p>“Please, Emma,” he sighed looking down guiltily, “Let me finish...I believe these are the remnants of a decommissioned weapon I made a few years back called a Babylon Charge…”</p><p>He looked around, as if trying to gauge everyone’s reactions.</p><p> “Decommissioned?” Emma asked, fighting against the anger in her voice, “If it’s decommissioned, then how did it end up down here?!”</p><p>“That’s just it,” John said gravely, “We don’t know...after a disastrous mission in Iraq, Xander deemed them too dangerous for use and had them shelved...evidently, someone got their hands on one and placed it down here and waited for us to be in the right place at the right time…” he cast a guilty look down at her residual leg, “And they almost succeeded in killing you.”</p><p>Her lungs suddenly felt pinched like she wasn’t getting enough air. If they were right, then whoever had placed the explosive down there was responsible for her being trapped. </p><p>Her mind raced as images of the rocks tumbling down on her, the pain that had consumed her and forced her into a month long fitful sleep with no guarantee that she would ever wake up from, entered her mind. Her leg was suddenly bruning as she struggled to take in air, fighting against the hot tears that pricked the back of her eyes. She could have sworn that she could see the ugly raw wound of her leg, the scent of blood that didn;t seem to fade for those first few days. </p><p>“What does this mean?” Lucy asked gently, casting her eyes worriedly over Emma before looking back at Xander and John. </p><p>“It means that someone at PEIP meant to assassinate us all…” Xander sighed, his eyes not leaving Emma, “And if they’re still alive something tells me they won’t stop after we come back…”</p><p>“We don’t think the intended target was Tim or Emma,” John said carefully, looking apologetically over at Emma, “For someone to have access to a Babylon Charge, they’d need to have at least level seven clearance and there are only so many people who can do that...even then, if you have a level seven clearance, why would you want to take out a civilian scientist and a child…”</p><p>This did nothing to calm Emma down, words left her angrily as she refused to meet their eyes, “That doesn’t change the fact that we still got caught in the crossfire…”</p><p>Her leg seemed to throb in agreement as Xander stared at the ground. </p><p>“So…” Tim muttered, his voice sounding very small, “What do we do?” </p><p>“Be vigilant,” John said without hesitation, “What we <em> don’t </em> want to do, Tim, is panic.” </p><p>Emma was slightly grateful to John for being as calm as he was for Tim. Emma certainly wasn’t. A small part of her was grateful that her nephew was taking this information so well, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to calm him down if he wasn’t. </p><p>“We can’t let this compromise what we already have done,” Xander affirmed with a tired nod, “But we do need to be prepared to deal with this once we break through the barrier.”</p><p>Everyone seemed to nod in agreement, making Emma realize how long she’d been holding her breath for. </p><p>“Emma?” John asked her, his eyes looking concerned, “You okay?” </p><p>“I…” no, she wasn’t, “I need...a moment…”</p><p>With that, she set her bowl down and turned her wheelchair, rolling away and into the other hallways in Hidgens’ basement. She just needed a moment alone. A moment to gather her thoughts and emotion. </p><p>She couldn’t lose it in front of these people. </p><p>She’d tried so hard to stay strong and hide all of the pain she’d been experiencing for the sake of Tim and the others. </p><p>Now, with all of this new information, it all had come crashing back to her before she could put up any walls. </p><p>She made her way into the barroom, stopping at the center of the dancefloor to catch her breath, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried desperately to get a hold of herself. She hated feeling this way. Feeling so...pathetic. Her chest heaved as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks, marring her mind as she tried to process the information Xander had given them. </p><p>Part of her was angry, in spite of her knowledge that none of it was Xander or John’s fault. </p><p>No, it was the bastard that had put the charge there. It was their fault that she was nearly killed. It was their fault that they were in danger of starvation. It was their fault, whoever they were, that she was torn away from Paul again. </p><p>
  <em> Paul. </em>
</p><p>An idea came into her mind. She didn’t necessarily want to indulge it, since Paul was always exhausted moments after it began, but she needed him. Years ago, Emma would have never admitted to ever needing someone, and yet, she knew he would never judge her. </p><p>She just needed to hear his voice again. </p><p>Guiltily, she reached out with her mind, like she had when she would write him letters, only...this time she knew he could hear her...and would answer back. </p><p>
  <em> Hey, Paul, you have a moment? </em>
</p><p>His response was almost instant. </p><p>“<em> For you, Em, always.” </em></p><p>She wiped at the tears that rolled down her face as a small sad laugh escaped her. Somehow, he always managed to make her feel better with his same dorky words.</p><p>God, she missed him so much.</p><p>He was a fucking sap...but God, he was <em>her fucking sap.</em> </p><p>She suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say to him. She choked on a small sob. </p><p>God, just being able to talk to him... some of the pain and memory of what had made her cry to begin with had faded. </p><p><em> “Emma?” </em> his voice sounded concerned, “ <em> Em, you okay?”  </em></p><p><em> Yeah, </em> she thought back, <em> Yeah...I just needed to hear your voice...or thoughts…or whatever this is.  </em></p><p><em> “You sure?” </em>he didn’t sound convinced. </p><p><em> Yeah...Everything’s fine now, </em> she smiled sadly and wiped at her eyes, <em> I’m talking to you. </em></p><p>“<em> Okay…” </em> he said calmly, she could almost feel his wistful smile, making her heart leap in her chest, “ <em> Is there anything I can do?” </em></p><p>She smiled to herself. He was so sweet and considerate when it came to her. He was usually so blunt, but he always took his time with her, always so attentive to what she was feeling, always so graceful in times where she didn’t deserve it. </p><p><em> I just want to hear your voice, </em> she whispered, <em> I just...need to hear you… </em></p><p>There was a small moment of silence before he whispered back to her, his voice gentle and careful, like somehow he knew she wasn't okay and knew that talking would get past it, “<em> Okay...okay, I can do that…” </em></p><p><em> Thank you, </em> she sniffed and wiped at her tears. She tried to envision those nights when she’d be at her worst. Moments where she’d feel low or worthless. Moments where he’d be there, patiently watching over her. Letting her cry when she needed to, holding her when she refused to let anyone else come near her. </p><p>What she’d ever done to deserve someone so imperfectly perfect like Paul, she had no idea. </p><p>Before he could say anything, or start talking, she resolved to say what she felt she could never say enough. </p><p>
  <em> I love you, Paul. </em>
</p><p>There was another small moment of silence, making her worry that she’d said it wrong, or did something to scare him away. A small bit of anxiety at the back of her mind screamed at her that something had gone wrong on his end. </p><p>All of these worries were laid to rest when the words echoed back at her, in his wonderfully warm voice that made her feel like she’d sipped on a warm drink in freezing cold weather. His words made her feel like all of the darkness would retreat and she would be safe. </p><p>She never knew how she’d allowed herself to become so safe and comfortable with a person. She’d always been a restless, wandering spirit. She could never imagine herself being tied down to just one person. She couldn’t imagine herself falling into the concept called love that always seemed so illusive and almost like a trap to her in her youth...and yet, she had. </p><p>As her words were reciprocated, she felt suddenly like all the anger and sadness melted away.  Evaporating into nothingness as she allowed herself to be calmed by the sound of his voice, making the pain in her leg seem like it was nothing. </p><p>In those words she found comfort. </p><p>In his voice she found peace. </p><p>In him, she found home.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I love you too.” </em></p><p> </p><p>And that was more than enough for her.</p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 16th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Bill hoped he was making the right decision. </p><p>He was willing to do anything to keep his best friend safe...and Paul was nowhere near out of danger. </p><p>That conversations they’d had earlier in the week...something had just felt off. </p><p>The look in Paul’s eyes, so unlike the rule-follower that Bill had befriended all those years ago. It was a scar of grief that he knew would permanently mar Paul until the end of his days, which, if Bill suspected correctly, would be very soon. </p><p>And it went beyond that, he knew.</p><p>Since Paul had disappeared and reappeared at work, he’d been acting differently. Almost as if he was hiding something. And his distaste for the General certainly indicated that something was amiss. </p><p>Regardless, he was determined to fix Paul. To make sure that nothing would result in him doing anything rash or ridiculous. </p><p>It was this determination that had driven him to secretly request this meeting after curfew hours. Much to his surprise, it had been accepted. So there he was, waiting in the fancy foyer of an office space that was much nicer than the departments everyone else was working at. </p><p>At a large wooden desk across from him, sat his old coworker, Melissa, typing away at a large computer with an almost-robotic efficiency. When he’d come in, she’d offered him no familiar warm greeting, like she always had when he and his coworkers would come into the office. Instead, she’d just hit the buzzer and alerted the general in an extremely meek fashion that he was there for their meeting. </p><p>He wasn’t sure why the General had agreed to meet with him. </p><p>For one thing, people knew that the General rarely met with any civilian survivors. Her rule was law and there was no argument with it, which was why when Bill had filed his request under ‘public concern’, he hadn’t expected to get that subtle summon’s paper for after-hours. </p><p>Still, he was lucky and grateful to have received the note and was glad that he was being given a chance for his concerns regarding his best friend to be recognized. If anyone could help him, he was sure that the General would know. Paul needed help, and Bill would do anything to make sure he got it. </p><p>“You can go in now, Mr. Woodward,” Melissa half-whispered, not looking up at him as she typed away at her computer, almost as if she was afraid of making one wrong move.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered, before moving up to the large double doors which lead to the General’s office. </p><p>In that moment, he found himself being filled to the brim with some form of intimidation. Something he hadn’t necessarily felt when he’d put in the request to meet with her. </p><p>Maybe it was the woman’s reputation. Even before she’d gotten the promotion to General, the name Schaeffer would inspire some form of reverence in regards to all that she had done for PEIP. It wasn’t that she would inspire fear...but people knew better than to fuck with her. In addition, she’d been close to the previous General and his husband, both of whom had died in the same Cave-in that had claimed Emma and her nephew If there was anyone who understood Paul’s grief and pain, it would be her...right?</p><p>As the large wooden doors automatically swung open, he was met with the scent of wood burning as a small furnace in the corner of the room was burning something he couldn’t quite identify. The office itself was neatly and intricately furnished, with lovely tones of navy blue with shades of silver and other colors popping up through the room with an ambiance that almost made him feel cozy, but also like he was in the home of a king or someone worthy of the most high form of respect. The large desk was something of an imposing figure as it stretched across the far side of the room and was littered with small keepsakes and medals, signifying that he was in the presence of a General who certainly knew what she was doing. </p><p>He’d been so preoccupied with taking in the surroundings of the office itself, that he nearly missed the steely glare of the woman sitting behind the desk. </p><p>She cleared her throat and his attention snapped to her making him jump. </p><p>“Gen-General,” he greeted her with as much respect in his gaze as he could. </p><p>“Mr. Woodward,” she returned the greeting formally, “Sit down, please.”</p><p>The way she said the word ‘please’ sounded more like an order. An order he obeyed hastily, scrambling into the uncomfortable wooden chair which creaked under his weight as he sat down. </p><p>She offered him a small smile, “So, sir,” she began, her voice official and almost intimidating in the way she regarded reminding him rather unpleasantly of his divorce lawyer, “You requested an audience with me on a part of public concern...as you know, public concern is my domain of expertise.” </p><p>He nodded, she seemed trustworthy. </p><p>“If there is a public issue,” she went on, offering him a small smile, “I will do anything in my power to remedy it.” </p><p>He nodded, suddenly allowing the stress to melt away. She was actually concerned with public wellness. Surely, she would be able to help Paul. </p><p>“So,” she folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward, “What can I do for you?”</p><p>“Well...um…” he stammered, “It’s probably not that big of a deal...I’m just worried…” </p><p>“And worries are valid, Mr. Woodward…” she affirmed, “Worries allow us to catch actual problems before they become worse.” </p><p>He nodded. </p><p>That made sense. Maybe he was a little paranoid in regards to his friend, but if he was right, then the best way to address it would be doing this. Schaeffer could help Paul.  </p><p>“Well, you see, General,” he began, making his voice sound a little stronger, “It’s my best friend, Ma’am...Paul.”</p><p>“Matthews?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded, “How did you-”</p><p>“He was of great assistance to us when this whole mess started,” she nodded, looking down, “He was friends with some dear friends of mine, may their souls rest in peace...finest General and Major I ever encountered. Why? What is the matter with your friend?” </p><p>“Well...miss,” he said, “As I’m sure you’re aware, his partner, Emma, and her nephew were killed in the cave-in, that killed the former Major and General.” </p><p>“Yes,” she solemnly looked down, “A severe blow to him, was it not?” </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded. So she did understand! She’d understand his concerns as soon as he voiced them, “Well...ma’am...I’m worried that her loss is doing something terrible to him, and I’m worried he’ll do something rash and dangerous that would cost him his life.”</p><p>“When you say ‘something terrible’,” she began. Her eyes furrowing in concern, “ what do you mean?” </p><p>“I mean…” he bit down on his lip. Something didn’t feel right about sharing this information, but if it would help Paul, then he knew he had to share it, “He said a few weeks ago, that he was hearing her. Hearing her voice...I think that losing her-”</p><p>“Has driven him mad?” she finished, nodding in understanding. </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded, “And today, he looked like he was hiding something from me...something that I fear might hurt other people, and himself…”</p><p>The memory of the disgust that had flashed on his face when he’d brought up Schaeffer replayed in his mind, “And he called you a liar.”</p><p>“A liar?” she furrowed her eyebrows.</p><p>He nodded, “I’m worried that he isn’t thinking straight, and that he may be a danger to himself...he’s hiding something and I don’t want to see him hurt.”</p><p>Schaeffer nodded in understanding before leaning back in her chair, “What would you have me do for him?” </p><p>“Get him help,” Bill said without hesitation, “I’ve tried to offer my help, several times, but he keeps turning me down...Now, I don’t think <em> I </em> can help him...but I think you know some people who can.” </p><p>“Hmm,” she looked like she was thinking about it before smiling at him, “You were very smart to come to me about this, sir.” </p><p>“Really?” he wasn’t so sure. Part of him was so sure that he was betraying Paul, but he knew that for the good of everyone, he needed to get this done. </p><p>“Yes,” she nodded, “I’ll see if I can have Paul Matthews on Psychological Leave for a while, give him some time to heal properly...it was truly awful, what happened to Emma, after all.”</p><p>He nodded, remembering how broken and destroyed Paul had looked in the months that followed the day her picture had joined many on the missing and dead wall, “Her loss destroyed him...I think a leave would be good for him.” </p><p>She nodded, “We lost a great deal of good men that day, it would be a shame to lose another, months later…”</p><p>After a while she spoke again, “You must be a really good friend, Mr. Woodward.”</p><p>Bill looked down guiltily. He didn’t <em> feel </em> like a good friend. Part of his mind told him he was misjudging the man who’d been his best friend for so long, that he was just being paranoid and throwing Paul under the bus. That perhaps he’d taken Paul’s avoidance personally and was acting out on it. Still, Paul had been hiding something, and instinct told him it was serious. </p><p>“I just want what’s best for him, General,” he nodded. </p><p>It was true. Paul had done so much for him during the worst parts of his life. He’d been the shoulder to cry on when he’d found out his wife was cheating on him. He’d been the one to let Bill stay with him while they figured out who got the house and who got Alice. He’d been the one to help Bill through settlements and custody agreements. He’d been the one to offer a listening ear when Bill had frustrations surrounding his relationship with Alice and when his Ex would try to show him up. He’d been the one to try and convince him to ask Silvia out (even though Bill had chickened out).</p><p>Paul had done so much for him. It was only fair that Bill try and do the same. </p><p>She smiled, “Well, you did very well to come to me with this. I’ll see to it that he gets the help he needs.”</p><p>He nodded in thanks, “Thank you, Ma’am.”</p><p>“Is that all, or do you have something else?” she asked. </p><p>“No, Ma’am,” he shook his head, “That’s it.” </p><p>“Well, then,” she stood and smiled, gesturing for the door, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, you may go. Melissa will give you a curfew pass, which should give you enough time to report back to your apartment.”</p><p>He nodded and smiled at the woman before turning to leave. </p><p>“Oh... and Bill?” he turned to face the woman as she stood, an unrecognizable look in her eyes, “You’ve done me a great service...you should be proud of yourself.”</p><p>He smiled again, “Thank you, Ma’am…”</p><p>With that, he turned and left, wondering if he should have saluted to her as he went. No, he probably would have done it wrong, anyway. It didn’t matter to him, though. What did matter, was the fact that he had made a case for his best friend to a leader who certainly seemed like she had every intention to help his friend. </p><p>As he retrieved his curfew pass and made his way back to his apartment, Bill smiled to himself, thinking he’d done the right thing. </p><p>Little did he know that he just made a decision that would put his best friend’s life in the balance…</p><p>For at that very moment, General June Schaeffer was putting in orders that would have Paul silenced... one way or another. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Paul loves Emma and is trying his best.<br/>Paul, you're doing amazing sweetie.</p><p>Emma loves Paul and is trying her best, but there's a whole lot of trauma that was just unearthed.<br/>At least she can talk to him now, though.</p><p>Bill...nooooooooooooooo.....<br/>Also, Fuck Schaeffer.</p><p>Wonder what this means for them...hmmm</p><p>If you would like, please leave comments or kudos!! I really appreciate feedback, and would love to hear your theories and input!! Even if you don't, I still appreciate all of you!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! It really means a whole lot to me to know that you guys are taking the time to read my work, so I really appreciate you guys!!<br/>Please be kind to yourselves and the world around you...AND WEAR YOUR MASKS!!!! (Seriously, my school is getting a spike in cases...we made it to the end of the semester okay, but there are a whole lot of people who are getting it that I know of. If you're feeling sick, please get tested and distance yourself from others!!! PLEASE!!!! THIS ISNT A JOKE) </p><p>Thanks again for reading and have a wonderful day!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. For all the Ghosts that Are Never Gonna Catch Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul comes to a terrifying conclusion<br/>Hannah knows everything is wrong<br/>Lucy notices something wrong with Emma</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song ‘The Ghost of You’ by My Chemical Romance.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Schaeffer, blood, brutality, beatings, panic attack, illness</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 17th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>It was the middle of the night when he was taken. </p><p>The light filtering through the fake window on the sidewall made him feel cold and empty, making shades of grey and light blue paint every crevice of his room which did nothing to calm him. Through his thin T-shirt and sweatpants, he felt goosebumps and shivers run up and down his back as he walked through the apartment, not knowing what else to do but find rhythm and hopefully thereby find peace. Still, he found none in the emptiness and cold. </p><p>Paul hadn’t gotten much sleep, not with the information that Emma had given him the day before. </p><p>Apparently, Xander and John had come to the conclusion that someone had purposefully planted an explosive in the caves. One that had been in just the right place at the right time, and exploded, crushing Emma, and nearly killing her while the others managed to get out of the way. He couldn’t sleep on that. The thought that it might not have been an accident was sickening to him.  The fact that someone <em> tried </em> to <em> kill </em> the most important person in his life…</p><p>He couldn’t think of anyone who’d do such a thing. Someone heartless like that should have been a monster of the Black and White, but Emma said they were fairly certain the person was in PEIP. </p><p>The thought kept him awake. He wanted so desperately to fix this. To ensure that they all got home safe and got the help they needed without worrying that someone might kill them.</p><p>They were fairly certain that the attempt had been meant for John and Xander...as they were both people in power, and Emma and Tim had next to nothing of value to offer anybody within PEIP. Still, there was the knowledge that he and Emma had made a bad name for themselves with the forces of the Black and White...it wouldn’t be entirely out of the question to suggest that Emma had indeed been the intended target...as nauseating as the idea was. </p><p>He paced around the room for most of the evening, trying to calm himself down as he worried. All of the worries about Emma coming home safely and getting the help she needed had been thrown in his face and made everything seem all the more worse as he thought of them.</p><p>His thoughts ran wild as he hauled himself up out of bed for the seventh time that evening, his feet were freezing against the chill of the hardwood floor as he walked across his bedroom watching as the shadows danced on the walls. He wished he could find some belief that this was all just a nightmare. That he would glance over to Emma’s side of the bed and find her there, sleeping peacefully. But he found nothing, and he was reminded all over again that this was reality. </p><p>He couldn’t stop thinking about her. </p><p>Her face entered every thought he managed to conceive. Her smile. Her laugh. The softness of her hands as she held his own, or held him. The way that she would absentmindedly comb her hands through his hair in a way that soothed him. The way she’d stand on the tips of her toes to reach his face as she pressed a kiss to his nose or forehead. The way her lips would crinkle upwards with a glint of mischief in her eyes when she teased him or made a bad joke. </p><p>God, he missed her so much…</p><p>The idea that she’d been gone for so long and yet, they were so close to having one another again...but still they’d not be safe. Someone had tried to bury the love of his life, and his few friends. Someone had tried to kill his nephew. And they still might be trying. He just couldn’t fathom it. </p><p>His feet didn’t falter in their rhythm as he walked across the floor, he was hearing, seeing, and feeling everything...and yet, nothing. </p><p>He couldn’t even find something to focus on to calm the noise inside his head. He thought of one of the last times they’d spoken. </p><p>
  <em> “I just needed to hear your voice…” </em>
</p><p>What he wouldn’t give to be hearing her voice right now?</p><p>Still, she was probably sleeping, and she needed her strength. He’d do nothing to disturb her. </p><p>So, he remained silent, pacing silently through his apartment, wishing she were there with him. </p><p>Something didn’t feel right...and it went beyond the likely assassination attempt. All that evening, he felt like something was thrown about. Thrown senselessly out of balance in a way that he couldn’t understand. </p><p>If someone were to ask him what was wrong, he would be unable to provide an answer. It was all thrown amuck. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something that made him feel like he’d felt when Schaeffer was watching him. Something wasn’t entirely right, and he knew it. </p><p>Suddenly, the door to the apartment bust open with a large crash that made him yelp in fear and fall back. Light flooded the apartment, and he stumbled around, blinded as he heard thunderous footsteps echo in his ears. </p><p>Before he knew it, rough hands were dragging him up and something slammed painfully into his abdomen, making him fall forward, rasping for air. A thick boot landed painfully in his ribs, rendering him breathless and gasping, lungs desperate to take in air as agony flared through his ribs. As more kicks were delivered, he felt blood spewing from his mouth and he was fairly certain, amidst his panic and inability to realize exactly what was happening. He felt his hands being pulled behind him as some cold and tight metal pinched around his arms, pinning his hands together behind his back</p><p>He forced his eyes open, and was met with blinding light as the blurred figures of people in black moved around him, forcing him to his feet quickly before something rough and black was thrown over his head, shrouding his vision in darkness as he was suddenly dragged across the floor agony flaring in his entire body. He couldn’t even bring himself to struggle as voices shouted, moving him through the tunnels, coughing up blood which soaked into the dark fabric of the sack that was covering his head. </p><p>He couldn’t think any coherent thoughts or even find the energy to cry out in pain as they turned a corner, his knees being kicked out from underneath him as they moved. He was overwhelmed and fighting against the tears as every ounce of his being screamed out in pain with the exception of his voice. He heard doors slam and orders he couldn’t understand over the ringing in his ears refused to subside. </p><p>He was dragged for a long time, blood soaking through the bag over his head and pained cries leaving him as the aching in his legs and ribs only grew. The grip on his arms tightened suddenly, painfully, as he was hauled through the hallways, the footsteps of his captors barely louder than the pounding of his heart. </p><p>He tried to murmur out a sound of protest, perhaps asking them where they were taking him, but he was met by a painful grip on his arms and a sharp voice telling him to shut up. </p><p>He didn’t know where he was going and yet, somehow he knew he was going deeper and deeper into the depths of the base. The air around him grew colder, and a painful chill was sent up his spine as his knees sank to the ground, the grip on him growing more lax, but still digging into his weak arms. </p><p>Suddenly, they came to a stop, and he was suddenly thrown to the chill of a slick floor, his face slamming painfully into a hard surface causing blood to spew from his nose and mouth as he coughed. His arms were still pinned painfully behind his back, and before he knew it, something hard was being brought down painfully against his back, making him curl in on himself to block it all out. </p><p>Images of his father, drunk and angry flashes in his mind as he was certain now that at least one of his ribs had broken. He suddenly felt like he was that helpless child again, unknowing of what it was that he’d done wrong to incur such wrath and violence. As he felt the pace and the power behind the blows increasing, his head began to throb and his eyes squeezed shut, trying so hard to prevent himself from thinking about the pain. Pretending that the pain wasn’t real, although it very much was, made it easier to cope with the anger of his father on some of his worst nights. </p><p>He couldn’t hear himself screaming, but he was certain from the way the intensity of the kicks increased, he found himself thinking he’d done so. </p><p>As the kicking stopped, he was hauled onto his aching knees again, and the blood-soaked fabric was withdrawn from his head, introducing his eyes to a blinding white light that made him cry out  and slump to the side in an attempt to get away, but the strong hands held him fast. </p><p>Be couldn’t see much as he forced his eyes open as the white light shined painfully in his eyes and blurs of grey and black danced around them. </p><p>Something painfully slammed into the side of his face, over and over again, making more blood spew from his nose and making him gasp. He could feel hot tears running down his face as the blows continued, opening up the somewhat-healed split in his lip and making his lungs feel like they could no longer take in any air. </p><p>“Wh-what...?” he coughed out, his voice sounding slightly gargled as more blood poured from his mouth, “What...d-do...y-you want fro-from…” he was cut off by another bout of coughing as blood poured from his mouth, “What do...you want from me?” </p><p>“Oh?” an infuriatingly familiar voice chimed in his ears, making his blood run cold, “We want nothing from you, Matthews.” </p><p>He glanced up, and watched as the blurs of color and pain molded into the figure of June Schaeffer, leering over him with a satisfied smir. </p><p>“Y-You…”he muttered, fear gripping his heart,  “B-but I’ve...I’ve done nothing wrong!”</p><p>He frantically glanced around the room and realized with a sickening lurch in his chest that he <em> wasn’t </em>in the brig. Instead, he was in a sterile, white circular room, with a mound of what might have been blankets on one side and a familiar toilet-sink combination on the other. The room was cold, and the walls didn’t look as filthy as the brig’s had been, but the door looked like it was made of solid metal, with only a small slot for a window. </p><p>“That’s not what your friend, Bill, told us, Matthews,” Schaeffer crooned, kneeling down in front of him, “He gave us the report that he worried you’d incite rebellion. That you might harm yourself and others around you.”</p><p>Paul’s heart twisted in his chest, “N-No...no...he wouldn’t…”</p><p>“Well...the truth hurts, Matthews,” Schaeffer shrugged, pacing in circles around him like a vulture circling a carcass, “But he came to me, in distress, and told me that you were being secretive...and might have been a danger to the public…you’ve got to admire the man’s loyalty, though, he just wanted you to get help where help was needed.”</p><p>Tears dripped down Paul’s face. </p><p>Why had he kept all of this from Bill? </p><p>Bill’s wounded face appeared in his mind, when he’d told him and Ted that he couldn’t share what had happened to him. All of the conversations Paul had done well to avoid and blowing Bill off for the sake of preserving his secret about Emma. Of course Bill would have thought something was wrong. Something <em> was </em>wrong, just not in the way that Bill thought it was. Of course he would have gone to Schaeffer, when to the public, she appeared as though she were the savior of mankind and that the small amounts of rations they were receiving and the rising casualty lists seemed like they were all normal. Of course he would have gone for help if he’d thought Paul was endangering himself. </p><p>And to think, all of this would have been prevented if Paul had given him the time of day. </p><p>He couldn’t be angry at Bill, not when all he was trying to do was help. In the midst of all the pain and suffering that he was enduring, he knew that Bill had fallen victim to the illusion that Schaeffer had given him; that if they were obedient, they’d be safe. Instead, he just felt guilt and anger at himself, feeling like the shittiest friend alive. </p><p>“W-What...what are you gonna do?” He murmured, not meeting the woman’s steely eyes as she regarded him. </p><p>Schaeffer chuckled, “Well...I <em> did </em> tell Bill that this would be your psychological leave...so you could be in here for as long as I see fit and he’d be none the wiser….but I do want so desperately to <em> kill </em> you…”</p><p>He froze, his heart pounding desperately in his chest. Blood was rushing through his ears.</p><p>This would be it. </p><p>He’d never see Emma again. </p><p>Before he had time to fear for the approaching end, Schaeffer released a horrifying laugh that made him flinch. </p><p>“But I won’t kill you,” she murmured, smirking down at him, “Not yet at least…”</p><p>She began to walk away, gesturing for the two guards that had dragged him into the room to follow her, “Enjoy your stay, Paul...you’ll be here for quite a while…”</p><p>His mind was racing. </p><p>What had he done to provoke her? Something had to have happened for her to throw him in this place that was very obviously <em> not </em>the brig. Something that went beyond Bill’s supposed request.</p><p>Then it hit him.  </p><p>It was a bit of a stretch, but if Schaeffer had been watching him after he’d been released from the brig beforehand, then there was a chance that they were onto him...maybe even before he’d been dragged to the brig to begin with. </p><p>She was just about to open the door when he managed to summon words he knew would only provoke her, but they had to be said, no matter how risky they were. </p><p>“H-How,” he choked out, “How l-long have you known...that they’re alive?” </p><p>She turned towards him, a coy look in her eyes as she moved closer to him. She moved so quickly, he couldn’t see her remove the baton-like item from her belt. She leaned down in front of him, staring intently at him, making him realize what pain was going to come to him. </p><p>She gestured to the other two guards, “Leave me.” </p><p>Obediently, the two men left, slamming the heavy door behind them. And with that, Schaeffer’s face contorted into a cruel smile. </p><p>“Longer than you have...it would seem.”</p><p>His eyes widened. How could she have known that they were alive before he did?</p><p> “H-How?” he coughed out.</p><p>“Oh, you know,” she said, extending the baton and flicking a small button on the end, making a crackle of electricity enter the room, “Paying attention pays...honestly, it was easy...but shocking how you didn’t realize you were actually hearing her sooner.”</p><p>With that, she brought the baton down on him and pain exploded in his body.  He couldn’t hear himself scream, but his throat was run raw as he writhed against the ground. </p><p>Once the pain stopped, he scrambled shakily against the floor, “You-You’ve known they’re alive...all this time...and yet you’re doing nothing?!”</p><p>“That doesn’t concern you,” she said, bringing the baton down on him again. </p><p>He screamed as the pain made itself known again. His entire world was spinning, but he couldn’t compare that to the rage that was filling his mind.</p><p>“You’re…” he coughed once the pain ended again, blood pouring from his nose and ears, “You’re j-just gonna leave them down there to fuckin’ di-AH!!”</p><p>She didn’t let him finish, electrocuting him again. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, but he’d do it all over again to get answers. </p><p>He looked up at her, as it finally clicked. </p><p>Who’d have the most to gain from murdering John and Xander?</p><p>Who’d be cunning enough to use a shelved explosive and place it at just the right place to kill them?</p><p>Who’d rejected any requests to retrieve the bodies </p><p>Who’d be heartless enough to let a <em> child </em>starve to death? </p><p>Who’d barred all of their attempts to rescue the people who mattered most to them? </p><p>Who’d settled way too quickly into her new position of power?</p><p>Who’d been trying to beat his hopes that Emma was alive out of him for <em> weeks </em>now?</p><p>Ice filled his veins as he stared up at her cruel smile. Recognition of his epiphany bloomed in her eyes as he spat more blood out. </p><p>He was staring at the person who’d tried to murder the love of his life. </p><p>Someone who’d tried to kill his nephew and sever a father from his son. </p><p>Someone who’d stabbed her closest friends in the back for power. </p><p>Someone who was willing to leave  them in the caves to starve to death. </p><p>She’d tried to kill the love of his life. </p><p>She was responsible for burying Emma under what might as well have been a quarry, and almost rid her from this world forever. </p><p>She was responsible for keeping them apart.</p><p>Anger unlike anything he’d ever felt entered his veins as he tried to force himself into a sitting up position, feeling weak and like he was going to be sick. </p><p>“You are a <em> fucking murderer,” </em> he spat, scooting away from her as more blood dripped from his ears and nose, suddenly he felt shivers running up and down his body, almost as if he were feverish.</p><p>She leaned down again, “Careful, Matthews, I’d be more thoughtful about my use of words if I were you.</p><p>Despite the warning he continued on, “You’re just g-gonna l-leave them out there to-<em> aughhhh” </em></p><p>The baton came into contact with his chest again, sending him writhing and screaming as unbearable pain wracked his whole body, filling him with agony. Black spots tugged at the corners of his vision, threatening to drag him into a sea of pain and agony, but he refused to succumb. He wouldn’t give this <em> bitch </em> the satisfaction.</p><p>When the pain stopped again, he forced his eyes open and was met by her steely glare, boring into his soul and threatening to stifle any hope he might have had, but he still refused to give her the reaction she wanted.</p><p>“You know, Matthews,” she said as she pocketed the device, standing to leave, “I want you to know that you’ll never see Emma Perkins again.”</p><p>Rage filled him as she walked around him, “A person like <em> you </em> doesn’t cross the lines I’ve drawn <em> that </em>many times without recompense…” she smiled and knelt down in front of him, his weak shivering form giving her satisfaction as she went on, “I want you to know that it’s my personal mission to make sure you never see her again…”</p><p>Fear and rage filled his heart, tears filling his eyes “<em> Please... </em>You- you wouldn’t…please...”</p><p>“Try me,” she grinned down at him in a way that made him want to vomit.</p><p>“<em> I swear to God, June…” </em> he hissed over the shakiness in his voice, a form of anger he was unfamiliar with overtaking him, “ <em> If you lay a hand on her…” </em></p><p>“You’ll what?” she sneered, “You'll be able to do nothing from here...power or powerless, you're fucking useless, Matthews...might as well write your eulogy while you're here...because you'll be here for a while.”</p><p>“Yo-you…” he coughed, doubling over on himself as more blood fell from his mouth. What would he say to her that made a difference? Why did he feel like he was burning? Why did he suddenly feel so sick?</p><p>Schaeffer didn't even bat an eye at his suffering, she pulled open the door and smiled down at him.</p><p>“Oh, and another thing, Paul,” she didn't even bother looking down at him, “The lights in here have the tendency to go on and off a lot so you better get used to the dark…”</p><p>With that she slammed the door behind her, leaving him writhing against the floor in pain as pathetic tears dripped down his face.</p><p>He curled in on himself. He felt like he suddenly had a fever. He was shaking and freezing, and yet his shirt seemed to burn every inch of his skin that it came into contact with. </p><p>Where had this come from?</p><p>He tried to crawl over to the wall, and was met by more pain. He stifled his whimpers as he tried to sit up, and a wave of nausea overtook him. He managed to crawl pitifully over to the toilet just in time to heave up what little was on his stomach, combined with the blood still pouring from between his lips. The putrid scent of blood and bile made him curl in on himself on the floor, allowing the pain to run its course.</p><p>Just then, the lights flickered on and off, suddenly enveloping him in darkness and pain. Nothing was visible. No speck of light made itself known to him.</p><p>He was alone in the dark and his pain.</p><p>Still, he wouldn’t allow himself to give up. </p><p>Schaeffer was gonna hurt those who mattered most to him. He couldn’t let them die. For all he cared, he could be left in the cold and dark, enduring as much pain as they wanted him to feel, but he wouldn’t let her harm them.</p><p>He sobbed as his head ached, desperately trying to get a message to Emma.</p><p>Somewhere, in his delirium and pain, he cried out without his own thoughts as guilt consumed him. He’d been stupid enough to fall into Schaeffer’s clutches again. All because he’d been a shitty friend. But that didn’t matter. None of that mattered anymore.</p><p>What mattered was saving those who mattered most.</p><p>He scrambled along the wall, trying to find the door, the circular structure of the room and the seamless nature of the walls made it hard for him to find the door in total darkness.</p><p>He couldn’t give up.</p><p>In his delirium and pain he cried out for her. Hoping that from where she was, out there in the world, that she could hear him.</p><p>“<em> Emma...I’m sorry…” </em></p><p>---</p><p>Hannah felt like an idiot as tears slipped down from her face. She buried her face in the cushions of the couch as she tried to calm all the colors and noises that raged inside her head.</p><p>“What do you mean he was taken again?” Tom demanded as he paced the room, running his hands through his hair furiously.</p><p>“Schaeffer got him,” Ethan murmured, fighting against tears in his eyes, “It was early this morning…”</p><p>Hannah watched as Ethan, Tom, Lex, and Becky paced about the room in anger as Ethan relayed the situation from earlier in the day, anger and anxiety keeping everyone on their toes. </p><p>Tom and Becky had come by the apartment for dinner and planned to stay the night, if the curfew bell went off, hopefully to silently discuss their plans. After a thorough check of the apartment, Tom and Becky had determined that the apartment had not been bugged, and therefore it was safe to talk about anything they needed to.</p><p>“Okay,” Becky sighed, “Tell us what happened again...please…”</p><p>“Okay,” Ethan murmured, wiping furiously at his eyes, “It must have been around…” he turned to Lex who nodded, her eyes wide.</p><p>“It was two or three in the morning,” Lex whispered, her hands shaking.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ethan murmured, “We heard a loud noise through the walls, it reminded me of when the fake Lex broke down the door in Xander and John’s apartment, so it naturally woke us up…”</p><p>He inhaled and exhaled sharply, “I could hear shouting, deep voices through the walls...they woke Banana up.”</p><p>Hannah looked up and nodded, shivering at the thought of the loud noises that had roused her from her sleep. She’d seen red and black again. She’d heard Paul again, in pain, suffering. All she’d been able to do was stifle her screams into the couch cushions as the carnage and the pain was brought down on him. She knew who was responsible, she didn’t need to look into what was happening for her to know that they’d been tricked. They’d been playing into Schaeffers hands the whole time and she hadn’t been enough to warn them.</p><p>Guilt clenched at her heart as Ethan went on, “The sounds kept happening and Hannah was screaming into the pillows...we were…” he choked, “We were worried that he’d be dead...and that we’d be next…”</p><p>Hannah shivered and nodded again as Lex pulled the tearful Ethan into a hug, remembering how They had pulled her into the bedroom, all of them clutching one another as the loud sounds from what had been Paul and Emma’s apartment had continued. The sounds had stopped-</p><p>“And we waited for the sounds to stop,” Ethan sniffed , “And when they did, I peeked out the door just in time to see…” he choked off and sniffed, “He had the shit beaten out of him, Tom...it was bad...they were dragging him out, and he had a black bag over his head...they locked his apartment and I just…”</p><p>Ethan broke down again, nestling into Lex’s side, “We worried we’d be next...and Paul…”</p><p>Tom cursed under his breath, “Do you know where they might have taken him?”</p><p>“Not the brig,” Hannah murmured mournfully, “Cold...dark...trying to call for Emma…”</p><p>She could hear his cries from the dark place. She could hear his pain and desperation. It was all so loud and made tears roll faster down her cheeks. She couldn’t feel his physical pain, but she could tell he was suffering. She could feel his sadness and his grief. She could feel how weak he felt...he was calling himself pathetic...just like he felt.  </p><p>“Tired,” she murmured, looking up at Ethan and Tom, “Hurting...wanting Emma…”</p><p>She focused on his words. The shaky painful tone that he carried as he cried out. His thoughts and shaky voice being raised in agony. </p><p>With a start, she realized it was a warning. </p><p><em> “Emma...if you can hear me...please… be careful..” </em> his voice was breaking out as something she could only assume was coughing and crying. She only cried harder at the sound of his suffering, <em> “Emma...Schaeffer...wants to kill…” </em></p><p>Hannah froze.</p><p>All of the pieces fell into place.</p><p>His words repeated in her mind like a broken record.</p><p>“<em> Schaeffer...wants to kill...wants to kill…” </em></p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer. </em>
</p><p>Her heart nearly stopped as the Black and White echoed Paul’s words at her, the colors forming a painting in her mind.</p><p><em> She saw a bomb that resembled a butterfly, posted on a cave ceiling, placed there by a figure in black and holding a baton-like detonator. She saw </em> her <em> grin in satisfaction as she started the small timer.  </em></p><p><em> She saw Paul running through the hallways with the short doctor...the funny one with messy hair and intelligent eyes. She saw </em> her <em> stop them and all but pull the Doctor away while Paul kept running for the tunnel, trying to get to Emma.</em></p><p>
  <em>She saw John, Xander, Tim, and Emma, desperately running through the tunnel. Tim’s eye was bleeding as he clutched at Emma’s hand, trying desperately to hold on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw the first pebble fall.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw John scream for them to run back to Hidgens’ lab.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Xander grab Tim. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She heard Emma cry out to Tim, saying that she was right behind him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Emma trip and fall, blood pouring from her nose, caked in dust as she glanced upward at her sobbing nephew.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Emma struggle to get up, staggering upward.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Emma get buried, her screams echoing throughout the caverns as only her arm remained free of the collapsed rubble. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Tim grappling at Emma’s exposed hand, sobbing and pleading with John and Xander, their eyes filled with grief as they looked at the young boy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She  saw the hope in Tim’s eyes when he felt the faintest pulse in Emma’s wrist, begging John and Xander to free her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw John and Xander moving rocks and stones away from the rubble, exhaustion and dust coating them as they desperately tried to free Emma, depending only on Tim’s insistence that her pulse was still there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw them unearth Emma, bleeding, bruised and more than half-dead.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw the gentle way they handled her body that had been torn apart, desperately trying to save her life as they removed the mess that her leg had become, Tim sobbing and pleading with the universe not to take his aunt’s life.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She saw a month of John, Tim, and Xander waiting with bated breath, either to watch Emma take her final breath or for her to wake up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw the moment Emma opened her eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She saw her scream when she saw the remains of her limb.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw months of hard work trying to dig themselves out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Lucy and Chumby, joining their group.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw Emma, crying to herself as she tried to communicate with Paul.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She saw all of their pain and suffering. All of it was attributed to the greed and lust of one woman. A quest for power, which had severed them from their loved ones and made them work so hard in an attempt to make it back, their physical health and available food deteriorating rapidly as one woman crusaded for control. All of her power making her grow more and more greedy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah would have liked to say that the woman was under the influence of some dark power. That Webby or one of her siblings had bewitched Schaeffer and turned her into the monster responsible for tearing their little family apart. But the Black and White spoke true when they said that June Schaeffer’s actions could only be attributed to greed and imperious ambition.  </em>
</p><p>She snapped out of her thoughts, a fearful shriek leaving her before she knew what to do. Everyone else turned to her. Ethan’s eyes widening in concern. </p><p>“Banana?” Lex asked, leaning in slowly, her eyes wide with concern, “You okay?” </p><p>Hannah shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes, “Paul figured it out...the person who tried to kill them...know who…” </p><p>Tom’s eyes widened. The day before, Paul had passed along information that Emma had given him, in which she told him that Xander had evidence to suggest that the cave-in that had trapped Xander, Tim, John, and her had been an intentional explosion using something called a Babylon Charge...which, as Hannah understood it, was not something that Tom liked hearing about. That was the only information that Emma had given Paul, but the knowledge that someone had intentionally tried to trap them and murder them had weighed heavily on their hearts when Paul had passed it on. </p><p>“Y-You mean…” Becky stammered, her face paling as she glanced over at Tom, “You mean...you know who was responsible for the explosion?” </p><p>Tom knelt down in front of her, a suppressed form of fury in his eyes, “You know who did it?” </p><p>Hannah nodded, “Paul figured it out.”</p><p>“Who?” Lex asked gently, “Hannah, who did this?” </p><p>Hannah inhaled and exhaled sharply, fiddling with her blanket in her hands as she shrunk under their gaze. </p><p>“June,” she said gravely, “June Schaeffer.”</p><p>Tom went rigid, his face paling as he fell backward, steadying himself against the floor as she shook, his face frozen in a form of shock and rage. Becky, Lex, and Ethan, however, didn’t look surprised. </p><p>“N-No…” Tom murmured, his breath growing heavy as he spoke, “No...June was loyal to John and Xander...she’d never-”</p><p>“Wanted power,” Hannah muttered mournfully, “Wanted respect...ambition...stole charge…”</p><p>“No…” Tom murmured to himself, “June might be a dictator...but she’s not a murderer...she’d never...right?” </p><p>He suddenly didn’t sound convinced as his eyes filled with tears. Hannah could feel the conflict in his thoughts as images of adolescent versions of him, John, Xander, and June, probably new cadets at PEIP popped into his brain. Shared laughter and smiles which were fading away as the truth sank into his mind. </p><p>Tears rolled down Hannah’s face as Tom met her eyes, his own eyes filled with tears, “It can’t be true...can it?” </p><p>Hannah looked down and nodded, “True...murderer...not your friend anymore…”</p><p>Tom sighed, looking like he was gasping for air. He tried to stand, and Becky got behind him, trying to support him and holding him close as his eyes grew wider and tears dripped from his eyes. Becky murmured comforting statements to him as her eyes filled with an anger that looked like it never belonged on her face. </p><p>In Becky’s mind, Hannah knew she’d felt this form of rage only once before as she saw a metallic flash and red burn in Becky’s mind...something that Becky had buried deep and concealed from everyone. Associated with these colors were...regret and anger that Hannah could only assume meant that Becky found herself struggling to forgive herself for. Hannah decided not to linger there, Becky would forgive herself in time. That, Hannah knew. </p><p> Ethan wiped at his eyes as he began to pace, Lex staring at the floor as her eyes filled with a rage Hannah had only seen her use when their mother was at her worst. </p><p>“So,” Lex said quietly, “What do we do?” </p><p>Ethan scoffed as tears filled his eyes once more, “What can we do?” </p><p>Hannah looked down, Paul’s voice still echoing in the back of her mind as he tried to contact Emma. Something didn’t feel right about what he was doing. Almost as if his message was reaching her, but she was suddenly unable to respond at all. Almost as if his message was getting lost in the sea of memory and oblivion. </p><p>Something wasn’t right on Emma’s end. </p><p>“Warn them,” Hannah murmured. </p><p>“Warn them?” Becky looked up, “How do we do that?”</p><p>“We don’t,” Hannah muttered, “I do.”</p><p>Lex’s eyes widened, “What...what are you talking about, Hannah?” </p><p>“Not entirely safe, Lexi,” Hannah insisted, looking up at, “Need to know…”</p><p>“Hannah, sweetie,” Becky whispered, her eyes wide, “Can you do that?” </p><p>Hannah nodded, “Need to know...not safe...at least...not yet.” </p><p>“Is there any way this could hurt you, Banana?” Lex whispered, her eyes wide as Ethan joined Lex in kneeling by the sofa, “You’re sure there’s no other way to warn them?”</p><p>    Hannah shook her head, “Like sending a message...simple and easy...just need to make sure they hear it.” </p><p>    “Who hears it?” Tom asked, wiping the tears that had welled in his eyes at learning about Schaeffer’s betrayal, “Just Emma?” </p><p>    Hannah shook her head, “Paul could talk to only Emma. I can talk to anyone…”</p><p>“But,” Ethan muttered, running a hand through his messy hair, “What if you get hurt, Hannah?” </p><p>“Won’t” Hannah nodded determinedly, “Won’t hurt...just warning…”</p><p>“No, Hannah,” Lex said, shaking her head, “We need to find another way…” </p><p>“Worry too much!” Hannah said to her, shaking her head, “No effort...just sending a message. Nothing-”</p><p>She lurched forward suddenly, and her eyes widened.</p><p>“Hannah?” Lex’s tone had gone slightly quiet, as if she could sense something was off, “Hannah...what’s wrong?”</p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened. </p><p>It had happened. </p><p>She was too late. </p><p>“Breakthrough.”</p><p>---</p><p>Lucy wiped the dust from her brow as she pushed aside another large boulder. They were so close, Xander assumed they were mere days from reaching the strange new place that she hoped would become her and Chumby’s new home until everything turned out alright. This new base would allow her to meet new people and make herself useful. She would know new faces and be safe...and that was all she could ask for. She only hopes that they’d accept Chumby as he was. Despite his intimidating nature, he had the mannerisms of a proper gentleman and wouldn’t cause any harm unless he was provoked. </p><p>Xander sat down with a small sigh, drinking from his water rations from the day that Emma sat out for them the day before with a small grin. </p><p>“We’re so close, Lucy,” he smiled, “I can’t thank you and Chumby enough for your help. If it hadn’t been for you guys, we’d be stuck down here for months...I don’t know what we’d do without you…”</p><p>Lucy smiled at the man, “It’s no problem at all...besides, it was always safer being here with you, than out in the caves with just me and Chumby...and we like you all very much.” </p><p>It was true. In the weeks she’d spent with them she’d grown very fond of these people. </p><p>First there was Tim, or Timmo, as Chumby had taken to calling him. The boy had been so eager to ask her about her life and how she became fascinated with the Hatchetfield Ape-Man. He enjoyed playing with Chumby, and wasn’t put off in the slightest by his hulking appearance. Lucy and Chumby had instantly grown fond of the boy, who’d insisted on showing them around their little basement home and made sure that they knew where everything was. In addition, the boy was an excellent storyteller, recounting moments of happiness that would bring smiles to everyone’s faces. </p><p>Then there was Xamder. Kind, smart and tenacious Xander. The man who’d been so willing to accept them into the group and accept their help. The man was smart, too, always analyzing or thinking about something, and seeing things from all kinds of angles. He was also very affectionate with his husband, as Lucy had noted, through fond nicknames and teasing, which made them resemble a bunch of lovestruck teenagers who’d been placed in the bodies of men in their mid-thirties. Lucy could admire the man’s integrity any day of the week, and had accepted his friendship fully. </p><p>John, unlike Xander, was a little more hard to read...something she’d attributed to his high military status. Of course, he wasn’t as trusting as Xander, but he seemed friendly, and like a genuinely good man. Once, at dinner, he’d spoken for a solid forty-five minutes, if Lucy had counted correctly about the goodness of the human heart, and how human action could be defined through the trials of life. Lucy could tell he was a man with strong morals, and they could agree on several grounds when it came to it. In some ways, he reminded her of her own father. Strong, stern, disciplined and moral, and yet affectionate when it mattered most. He was very obviously a man who held many standards, and honored the strength of the human heart above all else, which aided his marriage to Xander (which made Lucy realize that romance had most certainly not died after marriage, as her parents had convinced her). The two were completely different people, with similarities and differences, and yet, they worked beautifully together. It also helped that John had already met Chumby in a story that neither of them had wanted to share. It wasn’t that the story was sad, Chumby had promised, but it was something that John (or, ‘John Mac’ to Chumby) seemed embarrassed about. </p><p>Then there was Emma. At first, Lucy had thought the woman was stingy because she didn’t trust people, which, in part, was true, but as time went on and she learned more and more bits and pieces about the woman’s life, she was able to understand how strong she truly was. Lucy admired the woman. Her courage and strength in the face of unbearable pain was something she wasn’t entirely sure she could do. As often as Tim had brought up his uncle, the love of Emma’s life, apparently, she could see a series of emotions flashing across the woman’s face. Then, of course, the miracle had happened and Emma could suddenly hold brief conversations with him, and Lucy could have sworn she’d never seen so much <em> light </em> in her eyes. It was beyond anything else. It truly was a testament to what Emma felt for this mysterious <em> Paul, </em> who Tim claimed was the coolest uncle.</p><p>She ran through the list of people that Tim had told her about. All of the people that Tim insisted she meet as soon as they all got out of the tunnels and back on base. There was Tom, of course, Tim’s “lumberjack” of a father and Emma’s brother-in-law. Then there was Rebecca? Was her name Becca? No...no, it was <em> Becky </em>. Becky, the redhead nurse, and Tom’s girlfriend as Tim had phrased it...also high school sweetheart, but Tim had stopped talking about her for the sake of Emma (possibly because of her sister, but Lucy didn’t want to pry). Then there was Lex, Hannah and Ethan. If Lucy remembered correctly, Lex and Ethan were dating and Hannah was Lex’s little sister, who was Tim’s friend...Lucy hoped she remembered it all correctly. Then of course, there was Paul, and she hoped she didn’t forget anyone. She was too excited to meet all of these people. It had been truly invigorating to encounter this small group all those weeks ago, after just months of it just being her and Chumby. The new people she knew, would intimidate Chumby, who wasn’t all that great with new people, but it would help that Lucy was there and that they already had friends he’d liked. </p><p>She picked up her chisel, hoping to move through. John smiled at her from his place. </p><p>“I think we’ll be through within the next few days, Lucy,” he smiled up at her as he rolled away another stone, “we’re almost home...and you’ll be welcome too, you and Chumby.”</p><p>“Thank you, John…” she smiled, “I can’t believe we’re so-”</p><p>“Hey, um…” she was cut off by the meek and quiet voice of Tim as he tiptoed into the caverns. </p><p>“Tim,” John greeted with a small smile, “What can we do for you…” he trailed off as he registered the boy’s confused expression, “Is something wrong?” </p><p>“I-I don’t know,” the boy stammered, “Aunt Emma was feeling tired...so I told her she could take a nap...but…” he trailed off, his eyes slightly wide.</p><p>Lucy moved closer and set a dusty hand on his shoulder, “Tim, you can tell us what’s wrong, buddy.” </p><p>Tim nodded, his eyes still wide and filled with some sort of concern and confusion, “I just...she’s mumbling in her sleep, and she doesn’t look like she’s comfy...and then when I tried to ask her if she was okay, she didn’t wake up...and I’m-” he trailed off again biting down on his lip, “I’m scared, Lucy.” </p><p>Lucy shared a look with John, contemplating the boy’s words. Lucy turned to him again, trying to stay calm in spite of the concern and fear that had just purveyed the air, “I’ll go with you to check on her, I’m sure she’s fine.”</p><p>“Yeah,” the boy nodded as she began to lead them out of the caves, as if trying to convince himself that everything was gonna be fine, “Yeah...I’m sure she’s okay...I’m probably just worrying. My dad worries a lot.”</p><p>She offered him a comforting smile as they came to the mouth of the cave, taking his hand in hers and allowing him to lead her to Emma’s pallet. </p><p>At first, Lucy would have thought she was staring at a wad of frayed blankets with the way cloth was thrown about, but as her vision adjusted, she could make out Emma’s messy brown hair, fallen free from the braid she usually maintained throughout the day. Lucy knelt down beside the pallet.</p><p>“Emma?” She muttered gently.</p><p>The woman didn’t respond, and shifted. With a start, Lucy noticed that her hair was plaster to her forehead with a sheen of what could have only been sweat. Lucy knelt in closer, “Emma, you okay?” </p><p>Emma mumbled something under her breath that Lucy couldn’t understand and shifted over in a way that she could see her better. Lucy gasped. </p><p>The woman, who’d looked fine, if a little bit tired, that morning, had suddenly looked like she was a ghost. Her skin had taken on a sickening pallor, and her eyes were squeezed shut as she shivered, sweat pouring from her brow. Lucy gently placed her hand on the woman’s forehead and found that she was burning up. Her breathing was hoarse and exhausted, almost as if every breath seemed hard for her. </p><p>She turned to Tim, “You said she was fine when she fell asleep?”</p><p>Tim nodded, “Then she just started shifting and mumbling...and I...I didn’t know what to do…”</p><p>“Tim,” Lucy said calmly, “Why don’t you go tell Xander that your aunt has a fever...okay? I’m gonna try and bring it down.” </p><p>Tim’s eyes widened and he ran back into the cave, determination in his gaze as he did . Lucy sighed and scooted over to the small pile of rags that they used at the end of the day to clean of the majority of dust that had coated them and dipped it in a water bucket, squeezing it out and placing it gently on Emma’s forehead once she gently cleared it of the messy and stray hair. She studied the woman, murmuring things under her breath as her eyes moved restlessly beneath her eyelids, like she was attempting to ward off bad dreams. How had this happened so quickly? Minus looking underfed and exhausted, Emma hadn’t shown any symptoms of the fever she was now sporting...she was probably the strongest person in their group with the way she carried on. Now, suddenly the woman looked like she was dying, although Lucy sincerely prayed that wasn’t the case.   </p><p>A few moments later, Xamder followed Tim back into the cave, “What happened?” </p><p>“She was just...tired,” Tim said, worry in his voice, “But she looks a whole lot worse now…”</p><p>Xander joined Lucy at Emma’s side, looking down at the woman intently as she mumbled more incoherent sayings under her breath. </p><p>“She has a fever?” he asked, looking up at Lucy for clarification. </p><p>She nodded, “But she was fine this morning...so how…?”</p><p>Xander shook his head, “Honestly, it’s a miracle she’s still alive as it is, with as bad a shape she was in when we pulled her out of the rocks.”</p><p>Lucy was reminded of the story Xander had told her about their attempt to return to the base months before, how Emma had been crushed and half-dead when they found her. How they had to remove her leg to save her life, and spent a whole month hoping she wouldn’t succumb after they did it. </p><p>Xander moved aside the  blankets, much to Emma’s unconscious protest as she shifted and groaned, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. As he pulled away the blankets to reveal the residual limb that looked like it caused Emma a great deal of pain, he cursed under his breath. </p><p>“What?!” Tim asked, as his eyes widened, “What’s wrong?” </p><p>Lucy wagered a small glance down at what was left of Emma’s leg and had to stifle a small gasp. </p><p>It was barely noticeable, but the skin around the scars and tissue near the end had taken on a faded blue tint, warning Lucy that the tissue around that area was dying off quickly. </p><p>“I think it’s sepsis,” Xander muttered, raising a hand to Emma’s forehead, “She’s got the temp, her breathing is shallow...it’s gotta be from her leg…”</p><p>“A blood infection?” Lucy asked, “From what? And how did it happen so quickly?”</p><p>Xander released a hoarse humorless chuckle as his eyes didn’t leave Emma, “I’m no doctor...but this woman has been pulled back from death before...several times...it wouldn’t surprise me if her entire body was all out of whack…”</p><p>“She’ll be fine, though,” Tim asked, clearly fighting against the tears that were building in his big brown eyes, “Right?” </p><p>Xander sighed, looking down,  “I hope so, bud...but we need to get her stable…”</p><p>“Okay…” Tim said, “But she can wait until we get through, right? They can help her at PEIP, right?” </p><p>His eyes darted around and Lucy felt something in her heart clenched. She opened her arms to the boy and pulled him into her embrace, remembering how much of a snuggler he was, “I hope so, Timmo,” she smiled sadly as he looked up at her, “I hope so-”</p><p>“<em> Not safe…” </em>Emma whispered in her stupor, throwing her head from side to side, “Nh...not safe…”</p><p>“Emma,” Xander said calmly, trying to talk to her, “Emma can you-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>All of them froze as a deafening sound came from the tunnel. Lucy could have sworn she felt her heart stop as a pillar of dust flew from out of the tunnel, making her cough and cover Tim with her body. </p><p>For a moment, all was silent...until John emerged from the tunnel with a bright smile on his face. </p><p>“We broke through!” he shouted, chuckling with joy and disbelief, “We’re going home today!” </p><p>Xander laughed, tears filling his eyes, “And not a moment too fucking soon!” </p><p>Lucy jumped to her feet, holding Tim’s hand in her own as his eyes widened, tears dripping down his face as a hope Lucy hadn’t seen in the boys eyes for forever came upon him.</p><p>“We did it, Lucy…” he whispered, “We’re gonna be home soon!”</p><p>Xander gently lifted Emma into his arms as John ran over to kiss him. Upon his eyes falling on Emma, John’s eyes were suddenly filled with concern. Xander sighed as he adjusted the woman in his grasp, “We think she’s in septic shock, we need to get her to the infirmary as soon as possible.”</p><p>John nodded as his face contorted in concern, “Then we need to move quickly.” </p><p>“Nh…” Emma mumbled, stifled mostly into Xander’s shirt, “P-Paul…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Xander smiled down at Emma’s shivering form, “That’s right, Emma. We’ll get you help and back to Paul…you’ll see...it’s gonna be okay now.”</p><p>She groaned and shook her head, “No...nhhh….not safe…”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened and he let go of Lucy’s hand to walk alongside Xander, standing on his tiptoes as he tried to see his aunt, “We’ll be okay now, Aunt Emma!” he chirped gently as they all entered the mouth of the tunnel, he held a hand out and gently touched his aunt’s head from what he could reach, “We’ll all be okay! We’ll see dad and Uncle Paul again! It’s gonna be okay!” </p><p>The thundering of footsteps suddenly made Lucy pause, and through the haze of dust, she saw Chumby running forward, his eyes filled with a kind of fear. </p><p>All of them froze. </p><p>“Chumby,” John said gently, “You okay?” </p><p>“Not safe,” Chumby said quickly, “Not safe for Chumby.”</p><p>His dark eyes frantically fell on Lucy, “Can’t stay...won’t like me...need to stay away…”</p><p>“Chum…” Lucy said gently, reaching out and touching his furry arm, hoping to soothe him, “It’ll be okay...these people can help us…”</p><p>“Help you,” he said calmly, “Not Chumby.”</p><p>Lucy’s heart sank, “What...what do you mean?” </p><p>“Scared of me,” He whispered mournfully, “Won’t accept me...won’t like Chumby…”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous!” Lucy exclaimed calmly, “We all like you!” </p><p>“You do,” he nodded, “They won’t…”</p><p>She was just about to open her mouth in protest when John spoke, “Chumby...if you want, you can wait until we tell you it’s safe...if you want…”</p><p>Lucy shook her head. </p><p>Who wouldn’t like Chumby? </p><p>He was kind, gentle, strong, and honestly, one of the best people she’d ever come into contact with. In these past few months, he’d become her best friend, and she’d known that he’d do nothing to hurt anyone unprovoked. His physical differences from modern humanity weren’t going to change that. Sure, he was big and strong and a little intimidating, but she found no reason why anyone would be scared of him. </p><p>But one look at the fear in Chumby’s eyes and she finally understood. </p><p>He didn’t like new people, and was shier than most would expect him to be. If he wasn’t comfortable with meeting these new people, then she’d do nothing to push him. </p><p>She gently took one of his leathery palms in her hands, his hulking palm spilling out of her tiny hands. </p><p>“It’s okay if you’re frightened, old boy,” she murmured gently, offering a comforting smile, “You can wait until you’re ready...if you want…” </p><p>His eyes looked conflicted, “But...don’t want to leave Lucy…”</p><p>She smiled gently, “I’ll be fine...I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”</p><p>For a moment they just sat there, allowing Xander, Emma, and John to move forward, Emma still mumbling words that didn’t make sense under her breath. Tim, however, remained beside them. </p><p>“It’s okay, Chumby,” Tim whispered, looking up at the not-entirely-man with wide eyes, “You can wait until you’re ready...and we’ll wait for you...however long you need.”</p><p>She looked up at her friend, “He’s right...take as long as you need…”</p><p>She didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t want to leave either. But if he didn’t feel safe, then she’d let him do what he needed to do. </p><p>“When I’m ready,” he whispered after a while. </p><p>She smiled sadly, “Yes...when you’re ready.”</p><p>He nodded to himself, before opening his arms, and allowing Lucy and Tim to fall into them, wrapping them in a tight but gentle hug. </p><p>“Will miss Lucy and Timmo,” he whispered, making Lucy stop. </p><p>How long was he thinking about being gone?</p><p>“We’ll miss you too,” Tim sniffed, “But we’ll still be here, waiting for you...okay?” </p><p>Chumby nodded, “Okay.” </p><p>Lucy smiled up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat, “Just...don’t be too long, okay?” </p><p>Chumby nodded again, his eyes solemn as his hand ran a gentle  touch on her shoulder. </p><p>With that, he turned on his heel, and ran on all fours back through the tunnel, towards Hidgen’s lab and where he felt safe. Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched him go. She knew he’d be back, of course, but something about leaving him behind didn’t feel right. Something about leaving her best friend...the friend she’d been searching her whole life for hadn’t felt like it was supposed to. </p><p>Tim took her hand gently in his own, “You’re gonna miss him, huh?” </p><p>She nodded, “Very much…” </p><p>“It’s okay,” he whispered to her, “He’ll be back.”</p><p>She smiled slightly to herself as the boy’s optimism nearly matched her own. He was right, she knew. He had to be.  </p><p>With a heavy sigh, she squeezed Tim’s hand, and together they ran past the rubble they’d spent months clearing to catch up with Xander, Emma, and John. </p><p>“Ready to see your dad, Tim?” John asked as they caught up to them, “You excited?” </p><p>“Yes!” the boy smiled, his eyes softening as they fell on his aunt, who was still mumbling into Xander’s shirt, “And Uncle Paul, and Lex, and Hannah, and Ethan….all of them…”</p><p>“Not...not ssss…” Emma whispered. </p><p>“It’s gonna be okay, Emma,” John whispered gently, “We’re gonna be okay.”</p><p>“I can’t wait for you to meet them,” Tim said to her, his eyes wide, “You’re gonna love them...now, Uncle Paul’s a bit weird when you first meet him, but-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hands up!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>They all jumped as shadowy figures entered the tunnel, holding guns and approaching them carefully. Lucy pulled Tim behind her as the forms of men in tactical gear came into view, studying them carefully. </p><p>One of the men, a young man with blue eyes and a young face suddenly froze as his eyes widened, “Gen...General McNamara?”</p><p>“Agent Rodney,” John greeted formally, his eyes filled with a relief that made Lucy feel like she might cry, “Nice to know that you made it…”</p><p>“You-you’re alive?” The man- Agent Rodney-’s voice was shaky as he lowered his weapon hesitantly. He stepped forward, “A-And Major Lee....”</p><p>“Hey, Callum,” Xander grinned, “You’re truly a sight for sore eyes.”</p><p>The man gestured for his companions to lower their weapons as he stepped forward, “And...and Miss...Miss Perkins?” his eyes fell on Tim, peeking out from behind Lucy’s leg, “You all made it….you...you’re alive!”</p><p>“Please, Rodney,” John began, his voice authoritative, “If we were under better circumstances, I’d bother with the pleasantries, but Emma here…” he gestured to the shivering form of the woman, still nestled securely in Xander’s arms, “Is in need of medical attention…” </p><p>“Y-Yes, sir,” Rodney saluted shakily, “I’ll see if I can get a quarantine bay for you guys ready, and then alert General Schaeffer-”</p><p>“General Schaeffer?” Xander questioned, making Rodney go pale. </p><p>“Y-Yes...she took over after we all thought you died, sir,” he stammered. </p><p>“Quarantine?” John questioned, “Callum, we have no time for this, Emma needs help, and we should all be looked over…and Tim needs his father, so you should alert Tom Houston at once.” </p><p>“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the other operatives spoke up quietly, meekly, as if he hated saying the words, “But...the general has strict procedures for any new survivors…”</p><p>John cursed under his breath before sighing, “Very well...alert June...but please, get Emma the help she needs…” </p><p>As the operatives came forward, beginning to herd them towards a space that looked like a broom closet, Lucy held onto Tim’s hand and was suddenly glad that Chumby had stayed behind. </p><p>From behind her, she could hear Rodney speak words that sounded hopeful into a small communication device. </p><p>“General Schaeffer,” he chuckled disbelievingly, tears welling in his eyes, “You’re never gonna believe this, Ma’am…”</p><p>Somehow, Lucy suddenly didn’t feel at all at ease. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow...that was fun.</p><p>Paul, I’m so sorry...</p><p>Hannah, I’m so sorry...</p><p>What’s going on with Emma? And will the Eurydice crew be okay now that they’re in Schaeffer’s clutches?</p><p>*Shameless Self-Plug*<br/>Okay, so because I have no self-control I started writing a Noir Paulkins Au. This fic is still my top priority, but if you’re interested, it is called ‘Whispers of Arsenic and Anarchy’. No pressure to check it out, but if you’re interested in self-indulgent 1940’s imagery and Paulkins, as well as a murder mystery, feel free to check it out!!</p><p>Also, for those of you that read what I’ve got so far for my Count of Monte Cristo AU, I AM STILL WORKING ON IT!!! I haven’t forgotten, writers block is just being a bitch, but I swear a new chapter for that is coming soon!!</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you want!!! I really appreciate any feedback you guys have to offer!!! Either way, I appreciate you guys taking the time to read my stuff!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I hope you’re having a fantastic holiday season!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Ghost of You is Close to Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Becky Barnes is a hero<br/>June is furious<br/>There is a reunion<br/>Paul is hanging on to a thread</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, through a burst of willpower and caffeine (as well as a FANTASTIC new mug, but that’s not relevant), I managed to crank this out in one day, I really hope you enjoy this one!!!</p><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ‘Goner’ by Twenty One Pilots</p><p>I also like to call this one “Black Friday is on Spotify so I listened to ‘If I Fail You’ a whole lot.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Schaeffer, blood, suffering</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 17th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>When Becky had been summoned to the Q5 Bay while she was in the middle of her meeting with the others, she’s been so certain that perhaps one of the reconnaissance missions that Schaeffer had organized had possibly been successful. That perhaps not all of the operatives had died, and that they’d come across a few lucky survivors. It certainly wasn’t like she understood what that one word Hannah had uttered meant. </p><p>Because she was part of the small group of medical personnel who were certified in PEIP quarantine procedures, it was required that she be there within five minutes of the order being issued, therefore forcing her to leave the meeting extremely fast without offering any explanation to Tom and the others where she was going. </p><p>As she properly donned her personal protective equipment and made sure she was properly decontaminated, she heard Dr. Abadi debriefing the others on the situation. </p><p> “Alright, I don’t have names of the survivors, yet,” she was saying from her place in front of the Quarantine bay doors, “But I do know that there are five total. Two adult females, two adult males, and one male child. General Schaeffer herself ordered me that seeing that all of these people get well is our top priority, which means that you all know what you’re supposed to do. Decontamination and Analysis. Yes?” </p><p>At the nods of the group a small chime echoed throughout the chamber, making everyone look down at their small transponder to see if anyone received the message. </p><p>“Alright,” Dr. Abadi announced, looking up from her transponder, “It appears as though we are dealing with-”</p><p>“We are dealing with familiar faces,” a new but familiar voice chimed in, making everyone turn around to see General June Schaeffer standing behind them, “Pardon me, Dr. Abadi, but I figured that it would be prudent for me to inform them of the situation.” </p><p>Disgust twisted in Becky’s heart at the sight of the woman. It took every fiber of her being not to accuse the woman of the attempted murders that Hannah had deemed her guilty of. For whatever reason, she stopped though. She knew it would be unwise to mask the woman now, especially when the lives of those she tried to kill hung in the balance. </p><p> “Um…” Dr. Abadi stammered, “Yes, General...of...of course you can…”</p><p>With that, the General stood in front of Dr. Abadi and addressed the mass, making more anger and revulsion scream out from every moral aspect of Becky’s soul. </p><p> “Ladies and gentlemen,” Schaeffer addressed the masses formally, “Today is a most joyous day for PEIP, because from the ruins of the tunnel that Henry Hidgens dug into our base from his home, we have found those who were lost to us…”</p><p>Becky’s heart froze in her chest as the people around her whispered things in disbelief. </p><p>
  <em> Breakthrough. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Could that have meant…? </em>
</p><p>Schaeffer didn’t wait for the people around her to shut up before she continued to speak, “I mean, of course, that our beloved General John McNamara and Major Xander Lee have been returned to us...along with the son and sister-in-law of Captain Tom Houston, and one more survivor by the name of Lucy Stockworth.”</p><p>The small team erupted into disbelieving words, scattering an abundance of the question of ‘how’ about the room. </p><p>Becky’s mind was racing. </p><p>They were back? </p><p>If that were true, why was Schaeffer trying to act like she was <em> happy </em>about it?</p><p>Schaeffer held up her hands silencing the room, “Yes, I know it must be a sort of a shock, my friends, but we must remember, we have a job to do...lets get her done and welcome the General and company home!”</p><p>Everyone but Becky clapped at Schaeffer's speech. While Becky was filled with some sort of joy at the knowledge that they were alive, she couldn’t deny the feeling of inescapable dread that filled her to the brim. She didn’t understand what Schaeffer’s play was.</p><p>Was it the facade of loyalty that kept Schaeffer acting like she was <em> happy </em> about the discovery of those that had been lost to them? </p><p>Becky wasn’t sure.</p><p>She’d worry about Schaeffer later, though, for this moment, all that mattered was the fact that John, Xander, Tim, and Emma were alive, and she’d do everything in her power to keep it that way. </p><p>”Now,” Schaeffer began, “I will allow Dr. Abadi to instruct you through the phasing of the Quarantine procedures…”</p><p>“Thank you, General,” Dr. Abadi stepped forward, “The initial stage of decontamination has already been performed by Dr. Kirks team, but no health analysis of the patients has been made...that will be jobs completed by myself, Dr. Hallmark…” she gestured to the man standing a few feet away from her, “And Four nurses. My selection for the four will be Nurses Pollyanna Martin, Ray Ventor, Monique Chapel, and Becky Barnes.” </p><p>Becky looked up, meeting Dr. Abadi’s eyes in thanks. The woman knew how close Becky was to Emma and Tim, and although it went against standard procedure to work with people who might as well have been family, Becky’s skills as a nurse would have probably been a good enough excuse for her to be involved. </p><p>She wagered a small glance up at Schaeffer. If the woman was displeased with Dr. Abadi’s selection of nurses, then she did a scarily good job of not showing it. </p><p>“Dr. Hallmark will be paired with Nurses Martin and Ventor to analyze the state of the General, Miss Stockworth, and Major Lee,” Dr. Abadi continued, “And I will be paired with Nurses Barnes and Chapel to assess Young Tim Houston and Miss Perkins.”</p><p>Becky nodded. She’d be able to get information on Tim back to Tom as soon as possible...and as soon as she found out where Paul was, she’d get information on Emma to him as well. </p><p>Oh, God, Paul…</p><p>The knowledge that the man in question had been dragged off to lord only knew where made her heart ache. The man had suffered so much, and he was being punished for it. His only crime had been the fact that he loved Emma and was pursuing the truth on what had happened to her, and for this, Hannah said he was suffering. </p><p>She pushed the thoughts of Paul aside. She had a job to do, and she would see it through. She wouldn’t let June Schaeffer harm these people any more than she already had. </p><p>With that, Dr. Abadi and Dr. Hallmark moved to the front of the doors, both of them sliding their keycards simultaneously to allow them access to the quarantine bay before nodding at their selected nurses to follow them inside. </p><p>Because they had only brought in a few survivors since the world had ended, Becky had only been in the quarantine bay once or twice, but the scent of disinfectant almost <em> always </em>made her nose burn, even with as many times as they thoroughly sanitized the brig. The room was a pristine shade of white, which was offset with the mint shade of the blankets that lined each of the hospital beds which lined the walls, separated by white curtains which matched the walls and the floors. The silver light was dim, as the lights in the bay had the tendency to malfunction often, but it did nothing to tear her sight from the five people in front of her, making her heart leap in her chest as the two doctors led them towards them. </p><p>
  <em> They were alive… </em>
</p><p>It was one thing to hear about it and hear that they’d made it out of the tunnels, but it was another thing to see them entirely. Her heart leapt and did somersaults as she fought against the tears that welled in her eyes. </p><p>All of them looked gaunt and underfed, almost as if sleep and food had been a rarity for them. They were covered in dust and the tattered clothes they wore were somewhat unfamiliar to her, as if they’d found clothes within Hidgens’ expansive basement to use. She had to stifle a small gasp as recognition fell over her, recognizing the almost skeletal forms of those that had become family to her. </p><p>The first person she noticed was an unfamiliar woman, tall and curvy, with messy brown hair and inquisitive green eyes. Had it not been for the eyes, she would have thought she was staring at a much more enthusiastic and nervous version of Lex Foster. She didn’t pay much attention to her as her eyes fell on John and Xander. </p><p>Both of them looked more gaunt and exhausted, almost as if they’d been starving to death in the tunnels, steadying themselves against the edge of the hospital bed the whole group was gathered on to keep from falling. Xander’s eyes were tired and he leaned his head on John’s shoulder, his hands holding a bundle of something that Becky didn’t pay much attention to as she caught sight of Tim, nestled between him and the new woman...she was fairly certain that they’d said her name was Lucy.</p><p>The sight of Tim made a lump rise in her throat. The little boy looked significantly skinnier than he’d been the last time she’d seen him, with terrified tears running down his face as Hidgens grabbed him, leaving her to die in a burning apartment. Guilt washed over her as she noticed the scar running down his left eye, making one of what had once been lovely brown eyes a cloudy imitation, from the wound he’d received when they’d gone to save him. She felt weak and pathetic in those moments, feeling responsible for losing the most important person in Tom’s life, but now as she stared at Tim, looking worriedly at the bundle in Xander’s arms, all of those emotions rose up again. His eyes fell on her and widened. </p><p>“B-Becky?” he whimpered, snapping all of the other survivor’s attention to the team of medical personnel, “B-Becky is th-that...y-you?” </p><p>She could only manage a small nod as the little boy scrambled off of the bed and bolted for her before anybody could protest. As his tiny body collided with hers, she sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, unthinking. </p><p>“T-Tim…” she whispered, “I’m...I’m so sorry…”</p><p>He pulled away from her, his eyes wide and understanding as tears fell from them, “It wasn’t your fault…l-look! I’m o-okay!”</p><p>She swallowed her tears and hugged him again, not caring if her colleagues were judging her, Tom’s little boy was in her arms again and very soon he’d be back in his fathers (she’s make sure of that). He was alive and breathing. She’d keep him like that. </p><p>The boy cried harder into her shoulder, holding her closer, “I missed you s-so much…”</p><p>She smiled to herself, “I missed you too, Tim…”</p><p>He gasped and broke away, his eyes wide “Is my dad okay? Is he here?!”</p><p> Becky’s heart sank as she shook her head, “He’s okay...but he’ll be here soon, Tim...okay? We just need to check up on you and make sure you’re healthy first. Okay?” </p><p>A determined look crossed his face and he smiled, “Then let's get this done!” </p><p>“General McNamara,” Dr. Abadi greeted the man, a smile crossing her face as she saluted him, “I can’t begin to say what a joy it is to see you alive...you too, Major Lee.”</p><p>“Kamaria,” John smiled wide, “I’m glad to see you’re alive too...you as well, Jerry…and all of the nurses.”</p><p>Dr. Hallmark saluted the man and grinned, the nurses following suit as John’s eyes turned to Becky.</p><p>“How’s Houston, Becky?” he asked, his voice raspy as he looked down at Tim, still clutching onto Becky. </p><p>“He’s good,” she nodded as she stood, still holding Tim’s hand, “He’ll be even better now that you’re back…”</p><p>John nodded and smiled as Hallmark and Abadi stepped forward. </p><p>“We’re going to be separating you into two groups to do some preliminary examinations,” Dr. Abadi spoke officially, “Then we can get you what medical attention you need and get you into contact with any next-of-kin,” she looked down at Tim, whose eyes seemed to be begging for his father, “And any other people who would make your quarantine-observation easier…”</p><p>Dr. Hallmark stood up, “My team will be analyzing one Lucy Stockworth…”</p><p>The unfamiliar woman stood, her eyes bright and nervous“That’s me…I’m Lucy...Lucy Stockworth.”</p><p>Hallmark nodded at her with a kind smile, “Hello Ma’am, and welcome to PEIP...I’m Doctor Jerry Hallmark and I’ll be incharge of assessing your physical state here in Q5 along with the nurses Martin and Ventor...” he gestured to the other two nurses who nodded and smiled at the woman, in hopes of putting her at ease. </p><p>She smiled as he went on, “My team will also be taking care of the General and Major,” he gestured to the beds on the other side of the room, “If you would join me over there, please…Dr. Abadi will be dealing with young Houston and Miss...Perkins?”</p><p>His eyes were confused as he searched in the dim light for the woman, voicing Becky’s thoughts, “Where is-ah…” his voice trailed off and his eyes widened. Becky followed the man’s gaze to Xander’s arms. </p><p>She didn’t know how she’d managed to miss sight of her before, but now that she saw her she couldn’t look away. The woman’s eyes were squeezed shut and she was shivering in Xander’s arms, looking severely underfed and tired. Her eyes were visibly moving beneath her eyelids as she shook, and a sheen of sweat pasted her hair to her forehead. Even worse, however, was Emma’s left leg. Where there had once been a muscular limb, was now a bruised and scarred residual limb that had obviously been shoddily amputated right above where the knee would have been. It wasn’t easy to see in the crappy lighting, but there was obviously some discoloration and swelling in the skin as she mumbled words Becky couldn’t hear under her breath. </p><p>Xander looked to Kamaria, “Treating Emma should be your top priority...in the initial collapse, she was the only one of us who’d been injured. We thought she was dead, but we managed to locate a faint pulse and spent around four days unearthing her...when we did so, however, we had to make the call to remove the leg,” he looked down at her limb with disdain, as he calmly delivered the information  “She was unconscious for about a month after, but woke up and was fine until earlier today...we think it’s sepsis because she fought a similar infection earlier on, but we managed to stop it with some antibiotics we found in the old man’s basement…”</p><p>“So, it shouldn’t be sepsis...but she’s showing all of the signs of it?” Dr. Abadi, as she gestured for Xander to transfer the shivering Emma to the bed next to her. </p><p>“Yes...but I can’t think of any reason why that would be possible,” Xander said calmly, scratching at his head. </p><p>Abadi smiled and nodded at him, “You’ve done all you can, Xander, thank you for helping...We’ll take it from here.”</p><p>Xander nodded, “Thanks, Kam...just take care of her, please…”</p><p>Abadi smiled, “I’ll do all I can...now you, John, and Miss Stockworth go with Hallmark.” </p><p>Becky tightened her grasp on Tim as Xander, John, and Lucy made their way over to where Dr. Hallmark, Nurse Martin, and Nurse Ventor were all standing, preparing to run full physicals on them. </p><p>“Becky,” Dr. Abadi instructed her, “Collect samples from young Houston while myself and Chapel assess the situation with-”</p><p>
  <em> “General John McNamara!”  </em>
</p><p>Everyone turned to the bay doors where June had allowed herself in, a false grin covering her face as she watched John get blood samples collected from his arm. There was a lurch in her chest as she saw John smile in response. </p><p>“June,” he greeted, “What a sight for sore eyes…”</p><p>From her place on the bed, where she was being looked after by Nurse Chapel and Dr. Abadi, Emma groaned in pain and writhed, muttering more words under her breath. Nurse Chapel tried to soothe the woman as Becky managed to overhear the conversation held as she took Tim to one of the beds to gather blood samples. </p><p>“John, you look like shit,” Schaeffer chuckled, sounding just as friendly as she had before she’d taken a bomb to the people in the tunnels.</p><p>“Gee, thanks,” John chuckled, “You’ve been taking care of the people here, I trust.” </p><p>Out of the corners of her eyes, Becky could see the medicala staff stiffen as Schaeffer laughed and affirmed the statement. </p><p>“I’ve been doing my best,” the woman laughed.</p><p><em> Bullshit, </em>Becky’s mind screamed out as she wiped down Tim’s arm to collect a blood sample. </p><p>“Of course, nothing I could do could compare…” June was laughing, “You just focus on getting well again, okay?” </p><p>“Will do,” John nodded. </p><p><em> Please leave, </em> Becky begged the woman mentally, <em> Go away...get away from these people you fu- </em></p><p>Just as June turned to leave, she stopped and turned to Emma. </p><p>“Is that Perkins?” she questioned, looking over her shoulder to John and Xander. </p><p> “Yes,” John said, “Strongest woman ever…”</p><p>“Huh,” Schaeffer nodded, “Quite the tough cookie…”</p><p>“Damn straight,” Xander laughed before looking up, “Is there any way that we can get Paul in here to see her...that might help her out a bit…”</p><p>Becky’s heart twisted as Schaeffer smiled slightly, “I’ll see what I can do…”</p><p>With that, the traitorous woman left and it was almost as if the entire medical staff exhaled in relief. </p><p>She turned her attention back to Tim and  comforted the small boy as he was poked and prodded. </p><p>He didn’t cry or budge as she collected blood samples, or grimace as she took his blood pressure, made notes of his weight, or monitored his vitals. He did laugh as she helped him into his hospital gown, which made her smile. Other than smiling at her, and just making her job a thousand times easier, he just asked about his father, which melted her heart a little bit. She didn’t want to tell him about the weeks that Tom had spent in the brig as the grief took its toll on him, but she did tell him that in the recent weeks he’d been doing really good at his job and wanted nothing more than to get back to him as soon as they learned they were alive. This seemed to settle the boy’s nerves as he bounced on his toes, waiting patiently, clearly excited to see his father again. </p><p>“You missed him a lot, huh?” she smiled at him, trying to distract him as he kept glancing over to where Dr. Abadi and Nurse Chapel were trying to stabilize his aunt. </p><p>“Yep,” the boy nodded, “But it helped that Aunt Emma was there...and Mackie and Xander...and Lucy…”</p><p>“How’d you meet Lucy anyhow?” she questioned as she updated an old chart, making a way to silently get a message to John and Xander that they were in danger without worrying the little boy. </p><p>“She and Chumby were hiding in the caves,” he said matter-of-factly as he fiddled with the blanket he sat on, “They found a door that led to Hidgens’ basement and found us…”</p><p>“Chumby?” she chuckled, “Who’s that?” </p><p>Tim gasped suddenly, his hand flying to his mouth as if he’d said something wrong, “You promise not to tell anyone?” he whispered, his eyes looking from side to side. </p><p>She shook her head and leaned in, missing talking to him like this. She missed those mischievous eyes that Tom had once had when they were children. In some ways, she saw so much of young Tom in his son, which made her only like Tim more and more. She couldn’t wait until she saw Tom with his son again, he’d be happy again. They’d be a family again. </p><p>“Chumby...is…” Tim whispered his eyes wide, “The Hatchetfield Ape-man! It sounds crazy but it’s true…”</p><p>“Really?” she honestly didn’t know what to think. Honestly, in Hatchetfield, anything was fair game, “The Wooly-Foot is real?” </p><p>“Well, he prefers to be called Chumby,” Tim spoke, “But he and Lucy are best friends...and he looks scary...but he’s <em> really </em>nice - and funny too! He’s the reason we got through...but new people freak him out…” his face fell, “He wouldn’t like this...so we told him he could wait until he was ready...I think you’d like him though.” </p><p>She smiled at his earnest tone and opened her mouth to say something to him before a cry of pain from Emma snapped her vision away from Tim and over to where Dr. Kirk, who’d apparently come in at some point was helping Dr. Abadi and a few other nurses transfer her onto a gurney. </p><p>“What’s happening?” Tim’s eyes widened as tears formed in his eyes, “Wh-Where are they taking her?” </p><p>Nurse Chapel walked over to Becky and whispered in her ear, “The leg is bad, we need to go back in and remove the dead tissue…”</p><p>“Is she stabilized?” Becky asked, casting a glance to the still very-obviously-feverish Emma. </p><p>“Becky, what’s happening?!” Tim’s voice was desperate. </p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Chapel said regrettably, “General’s orders.”</p><p>Rage flew through Becky’s veins, “She ordered you to operate?!” at the other nurse’s nod she continued, “Can she do that?!” </p><p>“Yes…” Chapel sighed. </p><p>“But…” Becky lowered her voice to a whisper, “If she isn’t stabilized she might not-”</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p><em> Oh shit </em>.</p><p>
  <em> Of course Schaeffer would order an operation on Emma when there were chances she might not make it.  </em>
</p><p>She sighed and looked down defeatedly before locking eyes with Nurse Chapel, “Don’t let her die, Monique...Don’t give Schaeffer the satisfaction…”</p><p>With that, she was forced to watch as the gurney with Emma, the two doctors and some other nurses who’d come in at some point disappeared. She prayed with all of her might that Emma would live through this. That she would live through this and not give Schaeffer the satisfaction of seeing her dead. </p><p>She turned to Tim, whose eyes were filled with tears as he watched them carry his aunt away. Her gaze softened as she explained it to him. </p><p>“Her leg is in a bad way,” she explained, “They need to go back in and make sure that all the bad stuff is gone, then she can get better…”</p><p>”Will-” he stammered, his eyes wide, “Will she be okay?” </p><p>Becky’s heart sank as she considered the weight of the words. She knew that the people who Emma would be with were skilled medical professionals. She knew that they were good people, too...but the leashes that Schaeffer held them on were tight and couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t even want to think about what she had on Kamaria Abadi and Phillipa Kirk to make them operate on a woman who was unstable with the knowledge that they might as well be killing her.</p><p>She hoped that they made the right choices and that Emma would live. </p><p>She turned to Tim, “I hope so, buddy.”</p><p>She stayed with him for the next hour, watching as he fell asleep, the poor boy emotionally exhausted before she took the old chart she’d collected in her hands and sauntered over to John and Xander, both of whom were sitting up in bed, confused looks on their faces, almost as if something wasn’t right and they knew it...they just couldn’t figure out what    </p><p>She’d make sure they figured it out.</p><p>As she approached, their eyes lightened. </p><p>“Hey, Becky,” John smiled at her, “It’s truly nice to see you alive again…”</p><p>“You as well, John,” she nodded, not willing to wander among pleasantries. Their lives were in danger and they didn’t even know it, “I just figured you guys might like a look at your charts…everything you need to know is highlighted.” </p><p>She hurriedly passed the clipboard to John, hoping he understood the urgency in her eyes. She’d followed Tom’s code that he’d used when passing information to Paul, highlighting certain numbers and letters on the clipboard and documents that would allow him to piece together a message. Her’s had been simple, she only hoped John got it. </p><p>She watched as his eyes scanned over the clipboard, his calm gaze suddenly furrowing. </p><p>“What is this supposed to…” he said, shock in his voice as he passed it to Xander, who read it quickly, “You mean…”</p><p>She leaned in quickly, unable to spell it out for them, “We figured it out just before I was paged to come down here...Hannah says she placed an explosive...that she <em> wants </em>you dead…”</p><p>Xander’s eyes widened and he went pale, he shared a look with John, “She would have had access to the charges…”</p><p>“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “You <em> cannot </em>trust June Schaeffer...she’s had Paul beaten and dragged off to God only knows where...and she wants you dead…”</p><p>John and Xander shared a grave look as fear made their way into their eyes. </p><p> “You have to be on your guard,” she whispered quickly to them, her eyes darting around, “But <em> she’s not your friend anymore… </em>”</p><p>John stared down at the floor, breathing heavily. </p><p>“Understood.”</p><p>---</p><p>Schaeffer furiously paced around her office, her anger knowing no bounds. </p><p>They should have died down there. <br/><br/>Why weren't they fucking dead?!?</p><p>The damage was too thick for the physically able members of their group to have broken through, even if they worked nonstop. </p><p>So how had they done it? </p><p>No matter...she could figure that out later. </p><p>Right now, they were all alive and in the quarantine bay. With the exception of Emma, who was in a surgery that she would likely not survive. </p><p>She did have to admit that the ordering of Emma’s surgery had been an act of impulse and spite, just desire to rid the world of Emma Perkins...she’d made Paul a promise, after all. A promise she fully intended to make good on. Perhaps it had been a risky move to shuffle her towards death’s gates that had been made solely on her hatred of the woman and the person she’d shoved in the deepest parts of the base, but if Emma died it would have been worthwhile. She didn’t even have a monitor down there to make sure Paul was still alive, and she didn’t have any plans to send him food. If he died down there, she didn’t care...actually, she did. </p><p>She inhaled and exhaled sharply.</p><p>She knew the rumors of their survival would spread like wildfire among the ranks of PEIP, and hope that the way that John was running things would return. Soon she would be forced to leave her position back to General John fucking McNamara, who was so undeserving of his title.</p><p>Just seeing his face again had been enough to fill her with rage. It was  a miracle that she managed to maintain her composure as it was. </p><p>All of them had survived. </p><p>She scoffed and poured herself a large glass of whiskey as she sat back in her office chair. </p><p>People would know that he lived now, nothing that she did would change that. </p><p>Unless she made the effort to kill him bluntly with her firearm as her fingers had been itching to do when she laid eyes on him and Xander, the news would spread like a disease.</p><p>Someone was gonna pay for this offense.</p><p>Paul knew what she had done, and that nosy Foster girl had to know as well. It wouldn’t be long before the entire base knew and she’d spend the rest of her life in the brig...or worse. </p><p>She was a fool if she didn’t understand that the people at PEIP had some semblance of loyalty to John. She couldn’t threaten people with silence any more, especially if they knew she was responsible for the attempted murder of a civillian child…</p><p>And then there was the matter of Tom…</p><p>If he found out what she’d done...and when he learned that Tim was alive and home, then there would be nothing to sever father from son. Tom would do anything for his-</p><p>She stopped as an idea popped in her head. </p><p>
  <em>Tom would do anything for his son.  </em>
</p><p>It would be advantageous to have him reunited with his son, if she played her cards right. The fact that he had Tim to worry about would prevent him from doing anything risky or joining league with people like Paul...or if he already had, having Tim back would draw him out of the game entirely. </p><p>Maybe this was another impulsive decision, but she was determined. </p><p>She had not just gotten her hands on this power to lose it to the people she’d tried so hard to bury. </p><p>She hit her buzzer, typing in the appropriate transmitter code. </p><p>”<em>Yes…” </em></p><p>On the other end of the transmitter, she could hear that Tom’s voice was gruff, almost as if he was holding something back as he was talking to her. She couldn’t bring herself to care. </p><p>”Captain Houston,” she greeted, trying to make her voice sound as enthused as she could, “I just wanted to inform you of the good news!” </p><p>There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. </p><p>“<em> Good news?”  </em></p><p>”Yes,” she chirped, having to stifle her own gag as she spoke the next few words, “I’m happy to inform you that your son has been found, alive and well, and is waiting for you in Q Bay 5.”</p><p>There was another moment of silence, almost as if he was contemplating the words that would come out of his mouth. </p><p>“It’s no trick, Houston,” she said, “Your boy is eager to see you.” </p><p>“<em> T-Thank you…” </em> he whispered, “ <em> I’ll be down there as soon as I can… </em>”</p><p>”Of course, Tom,” she whispered before taking her finger off of the buzzer and took a big swig of her drink. </p><p>Okay, so she dealt with Houston...now there was a matter of Paul…</p><p>That man had been the cause of too many problems for her.</p><p>She planned to leave him down there for as long as she needed, hoping one day when she sent someone down there to rattle him, they’d find a body, but something inside of her figured that it wouldn’t be enough. She stood, pacing around the room. She’d told Bill that he’d be on psychological leave...but that didn’t necessarily mean he had to get out of it alive…</p><p>She leaned against the wall as ideas raced through her head. </p><p>She’d promised him she’d never let him see Emma again, and if she died during surgery, then she’d get the satisfaction of telling him to his face that the love of his life had died...wouldn’t that be a thrill? But if she did survive...wouldn’t it be even greater to tell Emma that <em> Paul </em>had died before she could come home to him? </p><p>She grinned. </p><p>As much as <em> she </em>wanted to do it...she knew that she needed to focus on rebuilding her reputation with her friends before an unfortunate downturn in their health resulted in their eventual death (yes, she was already planning to murder John and Xander in their moments of weakness), but she knew that killing Paul was something she definitely wanted a hand in doing...and if there was any merit to an investigation that might be held, the tarnishing of a reputation would be most advantageous.</p><p>She hit her buzzer, “Rodney, get up here…”</p><p>Rodney...one of John’s most trusted operatives. If there was anyone she wanted to harm the reputation of, it would be him. He’d been a problem for her in the days when she’d come to power. He’d insisted that they search for John and Xander and that perhaps they’d all lived. It was reasons like this, that made her demote him and place him on humiliating jobs such as simple guard duty. She’d give him tough jobs too, threatening the livelihood of his surviving family if he refused to do them...he’d be easy to manipulate into doing this work. </p><p>Within moments, the doors opened and Rodney, dust covered and nervous-looking walked in. </p><p>“Yes...ma’am?” he asked, his voice quiet. </p><p>“I thought I told you not to let anything in or out of that tunnel,” she snapped, glaring at the man as he seemed to quiver underneath her gaze. </p><p>“Well...Ma’am,” the man began, his voice stammering as his eyes widened, “It was the Gener-” </p><p>She didn’t let him finish, “It’s okay, Rodney, I have a better way for you to make it up to me.”</p><p>The man looked taken aback, his ice blue eyes widening, “R-Really?”</p><p>She nodded, “Paul Matthews has crossed the line one too many times, Rodney. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve had to place him in the citadel bay. The punishment for his crimes must be...severe...do you understand?” </p><p>The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “No, Ma’am, I don’t think I do…”</p><p>She stood and began to pace around the room, “We’ve tried to beat the rebellion out of him, but it hasn’t worked...this requires a more…” she sighed and looked at the man, “A more <em> permanent </em> solution.”</p><p>“P-Permanent?” the man stammered, “Don’t you think th-that’s a bit...rash?” </p><p>“Are you questioning my leadership, Rodney?” she snapped, “I don’t need to remind you of your own crimes, do I?”</p><p>He stopped and stared down at the ground, “N..No, Ma’am...but Paul hasn’t done anything wrong...all he wants-”</p><p>“<em> Listen well, Callum! </em> ” she all but shouted, slamming her glass down on her desk and locking eyes on the cowardly man in front of her, “ <em> If you know what’s good for you, Paul Matthews will be dead within the next three days, do you understand me!? </em>”</p><p>The man jumped at her outburst and she inhaled sharply and exhaled. </p><p>His eyes studied her in shock, fear unlike anything she’d ever seen on the man’s face appearing in his expression. For a moment he was silent, and then he nodded, “Y-Yes, Ma’am.”</p><p>“Good,” she nodded, “Now get out of my sight.”</p><p>He couldn’t have left the room faster. </p><p>She sighed and sat back in her chair running her hand through her curls that had become loose in her pacing. </p><p>Was she being rash? She didn’t think so. </p><p>Part of her knew that she’d come too far to lose her cool now, but the knowledge that they were alive and back in PEIP’s hands was enough to send her to the edge, still, she wouldn’t allow herself to break. </p><p>She was in control.</p><p>She was in control. </p><p><em>She was in control</em>.</p><p>As soon as her enemies were dead...she’d have all that she ever wanted, and more…</p><p>She just needed to hold it together. </p><p>She inhaled and exhaled sharply, pouring herself another glass of whiskey.</p><p><em> She was in control. </em>   </p><p>---</p><p>Tom knew that Schaeffer was lucky she’d used the transmitter to give him the information that everyone had been found. After what Hannah had revealed to them, he was fairly certain that if he’d seen the woman in person, he would have withdrawn his firearm and done something rash, much to the chagrin of his shoulder angels (namely Hannah Foster and Becky Barnes). </p><p>Hannah had said the word “Breakthrough”, but offered no explanation. Then Becky had run off to run a quarantine procedure and all he’d done was be left in bewilderment, until the woman he’d just been warned about had the gall to call him up and tell him. </p><p>He’d forgotten his anger in the moments he contemplated her words.</p><p><em> “I’m happy to inform you that your son has been found, alive and well, and is waiting for you in Q Bay 5.” </em> </p><p>
  <em> Your son  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Found.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Waiting for you.  </em>
</p><p>In the moment it had seemed like such a dream, almost like the words had been delivered to him, but he could make no sense of them. It had taken a while for him to respond to June’s message altogether. </p><p>The smallest part of him had been tempted to jeopardize all the information they’d just learned about June and ask her how she felt about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. </p><p>He would make her pay another day. </p><p>Right now, his son was waiting for him. </p><p>Part of him thought it was a cruel trick, but as soon as he’d ended the message with June, one look at Hannah and he knew it wasn’t a lie.</p><p> It couldn’t have been. </p><p>Hannah had smiled at him knowingly, and whispered one word, “<em> Go. </em>”</p><p>So, there he was, bolting through the hallways, hoping to whatever God existed that he remembered where the quarantine bays were. Though he had known the labyrinthine hallways of PEIP like the back of his hand, he’d lost all sense of direction, relying on the autopilot of his muscle memory alone. All of his thoughts focused on his son. </p><p>
  <em> Was he okay?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Had he been eating properly? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What if he hated Tom? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What had happened with the injury to his eye? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was he emotionally okay?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was he healthy?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What if he hated Tom for not coming to get him?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Had Emma taken care of him? </em>
</p><p>All of these worries circulated through his head as he ran, almost tripping as he made a tight corner, descending deeper into PEIP as he ran for Q5. </p><p>With a leap in his heart he noticed Q1 come into view. Despite the throbbing of his heart in his throat, he could only run faster.  </p><p>
  <em>Q1 Decontamination</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Q2 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Q2 Decontamination </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Q3 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Q3 Decontamination </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Quarantine OR.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Q4 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Q4 Decontamination </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Q5 </em>
</p><p>His heart leapt in his chest as he skidded to a stop in front of the big doors that contained his son and the people he’d thought lost forever. He couldn’t believe it. He was seeing his son today. </p><p>Quickly, he scanned his keycard, allowing one of the doors to unlock and he pulled it open, before being met with the familiar scent of antiseptic that almost scorched his nostrils. His eyes were watering with the strength of the scent, but he didn’t care as he took in every detail of the room. Even as his heart stopped as he scanned over the forms of John and Xander, who didn’t seem to notice him come in, or the unfamiliar woman peacefully sleeping a few beds away from him, he didn’t stop looking for his son as he impatiently entered the room. </p><p>He saw Becky before he saw Tim. </p><p>Becky was sitting on one of the hospital beds, staring lovingly down at a sleeping figure in it.  She looked tired, but as he followed her gaze, he skidded to a stop, his jaw dropping. </p><p>It was Tim. Curled up and sleeping in the <em> exact same </em>position he would always sleep in when Tom would crack open the door to check on him in the middle of the night. Back when they’d had their own house, and sometimes just watching his son sleep peacefully had brought him so much peace. </p><p>Becky looked up and smiled upon noticing him. She seemed to read Tom’s expression of disbelief and gestured for him to join her, standing slowly and looking down at his sleeping son. </p><p>As Tom stumbled forward, he noticed how small his boy looked. How fragile and skinny, almost as if he’d not been eating enough. It was obvious that someone had taken a washcloth to wash some of the dust and dirt clean from his body, but he still needed a shower...and a comb, judging from the knots and tangles in his son’s now-shaggy hair. </p><p>It took all of Tom’s self-control not to lose it at the sight of the scar that now covered his son’s eye, making all of the guilt from not being there for his son curl painfully inside his chest. </p><p>Still, Becky gently took his hand as he approached and gently shook Tim. </p><p>“Tim, buddy,” she whispered sweetly, making him groan tiredly and shift underneath the mint green blankets and crisp white sheets, “Someone’s here to see you…”</p><p>Tom shuffled forward, sitting down where Becky had previously been at her urging, not wanting to disturb his son, and not sure what to say. There was so much shock in his body right now, Tom wasn’t sure he could talk without crying as a lump of great magnitude built and built in his throat. </p><p>Tim groaned again, and rubbed at his eyes, before cracking one of them open, and suddenly, Tom felt like he was back in the hospital, seeing his son open his eyes for the very first time. While one of them was an odd shade of white from the scarring, the other one was still that warm and inquisitive brown that he’d gotten from his mother. As he blinked sleep away from his eyes, his eyes widened and tears filled them. </p><p>“D-Dad?” the boy whispered, disbelief in his tone. Tom could have melted at how small his voice sounded, just hearing his son’s voice again being enough to break him. His eyes filled with tears. </p><p>He managed a small nod, “Hey...H-hey, Buddy…”</p><p>Tears fell from Tim’s eyes as he pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around Tom’s neck and burying his face in his neck, “Dad!”</p><p>Tom found himself breathless as his son began to cry into his neck, and found himself crying as well. Tears poured from his eyes as he held his son closer. </p><p>“I-It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Tom muttered as he cried harder, the warmth of having his son in his arms again overwhelming him. He shifted so he was sitting more comfortably on the bed, “It’s okay, dad’s got you…”</p><p>Tim nodded, “I missed you s-so much…” he looked up at him and hugged him again, “S-So much…”</p><p>“I m-missed you too, buddy,” Tom muttered, gently holding his son closer. </p><p>Tim stayed awake for a while, muttering to Tom updates about where he’d been all this time, and Tom listened to everything, just taking in the sound of his son’s voice. It amazed him how much his son was able to endure over such a long period of time. However, every time the subject of Emma came up, he was reminded of the fact that Emma was for some reason not in the same room as them. He wouldn’t worry about that now, because now Tim was falling asleep again, and Tom had sincerely decided he wouldn’t leave his side until he left the Quarantine bay. </p><p>“Mm...and then…” Tim was muttering sleepily, “Chumby and Lucy found us...and Aunt Emma heard Uncle Paul...and…” he cut himself off with a big yawn.</p><p>“It’s okay, buddy,” Tom whispered to him, “You can go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>“Hmmm…” the boy nodded, his eyelids falling shut, “Promise?” </p><p>“Of course, buddy,” Tom said without hesitation, “I ain’t going anywhere, okay?” </p><p>“Okay…” Tim murmured sleepily, “I love you, Dad…”</p><p>Tom’s heart shattered at that moment. Not in a bad way. In the best way ever. It felt more as if his heart burst insanely as his son spoke those words, “I love you too, Tim…” he murmured, watching as the boy fell into sleep. </p><p>He looked at Becky, who was attending to the other woman he didn’t recognize. She looked over her shoulder for a brief moment and a soft smile came over her face. As he held his son close, he stared across the room at her. </p><p>Nothing else mattered except for Tim. They’d let all the worries and fears of today become tomorrow’s problem. He’d worry about Schaeffer and Emma and John and Xander when morning came. </p><p>All that mattered right now was Tim. </p><p>And now that he was back, he was never letting go. </p><p>As he gazed at Becky, he mouthed a silent ‘thank you’,  before turning his gaze down at Tim and wondered at all of the things his son had seen. He was such a little trooper, and all he could do was be proud of him. </p><p>He had his son back, and he was never going to let go. </p><p>---</p><p>The lights flickered off and on again, allowing bright light to flood the room and rouse him from the restless sleep. </p><p>His bones ached and he was filled with dread as he forced his heavy eyes open. His face felt as if it were caked in dried blood, and his hands were still raw from the restraints they’d removed from his hands the last time they’d come in to inflict pain. </p><p> He pushed his shivering form up, shaking at the sight of his own blood staining the floor. His nose must have started bleeding again in the night. He no longer felt feverish, though he had a sneaking suspicion that it was never <em> his </em>fever to begin with. </p><p>Since he’d been dragged into the round room, he’d counted sixteen times the lights had gone out, each time snapping him out of his trance of pain and exhaustion. In addition to that, it had been three times since Schaeffer had beaten the shit out of him that he’d been joined by operatives he didn’t recognize who had seemed to take too much joy in beating up a man who already felt as if he were a broken puppet. The pessimistic side of him figured that something had happened to piss Schaeffer off and she needed the satisfaction of at least one of her men coming in and hitting him. </p><p>Still, it wasn’t until after the second visit that he realized just <em> what </em>had happened to piss Schaeffer off.</p><p> He should have known the second that he heard the deafening crash of rock and stone, but he hadn’t the slightest of what it had been when it had happened. He figured it had to do with the continual ringing in his ears that he was unable to hear as much, but when he’d heard the voices of the group from the other side intermingling with the voices of people to be in the medical team, he knew, and he’d been given hope. </p><p>They’d made it out. </p><p>Somehow, the knowledge of it had given him hope, but it had also filled him with a form of dread he’d never known. </p><p>Now that they were back, he was left wondering if they’d received and understood his messages. He knew his messages had reached Emma, but something was wrong...which had also done nothing to calm his nerves. </p><p>Usually, when he sent a message with as much weight as this, Emma would respond. The fact that she hadn’t did nothing but worry him. It was almost as if the message was reaching her, but not entirely resonating.</p><p>Regardless, he found himself worrying. </p><p>He couldn’t even bring himself to withstand the pain in his ribs to pace the room as worry wracked his whole body. </p><p>Now, all he could do was sit and listen. </p><p>He could hear her heartbeat...but it was faint...and he couldn’t hear her thoughts...not that he really wanted to intrude on her privacy. </p><p>He found some peace and hope in the fact that she was back, and he would plead with whoever he could to see her, as he had when the last person had come in and raised a heavy baton to him. </p><p>He wanted nothing more than to see her. To hold her again. To know that she was okay.</p><p>He’d cried when he realized that she was back...that she was in the hands of capable medical personnel. Still, with a sickening pull of dread in his stomach, he was forced to think realistically, and remember that regardless of the fact that they were back, they were still in an area that Schaeffer had control over. As long as she had power, they wouldn’t be safe. </p><p>Painstakingly, he crawled across the floor towards the door, unsure of what he would do once he got there, all he knew was he needed to get out and get to her. He needed to do everything he could to keep her safe, not that she couldn’t take care of herself, he knew. She was the strongest person that he’d ever known. She was powerful, intelligent, capable, and beautiful. </p><p>With a pull in his heart, he tried to listen to her heartbeat again...just the fact that it was there was enough to give him strength. Though it was weak, he knew she was alive, and he held on to that with everything he had. </p><p>He hadn’t made it to the door by the time it opened again, the same operative from earlier entered, sneering down at him as he withdrew the same baton, kicking Paul to the side with ease. </p><p>As Paul winced in pain, curling in on himself as he prepared for the next round of torture he’d be forced to endure, he listened only to Emma’s heartbeat, holding on to the fact that she was still alive and allowing it to make him feel stronger.</p><p>He wouldn't let this kill him.</p><p>He would get back to Emma...</p><p>No matter how long it took, no matter how much pain he endured he would take it all for her. </p><p>Always her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In conclusion...<br/>Protect Tim Houston<br/>Fuck June Schaeffer</p><p>Hope Emma and Paul will be okay...<br/>But hey! AT LEAST TOM HAS TIM NOW!!!!</p><p>Also, I've noticed some formatting issues with this, so I'll do my best to go back and fix it!!</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like!!! I’m so happy you guys took the time to read this!!! Words cannot describe how appreciative I am of the fact that you guys have liked this work since OTOLI!!!</p><p>Seriously, thank you so much for reading!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Surrender the Wish We’ll Be Together Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma wakes up.<br/>Lex and Ethan receive some disturbing news and help from an unlikely source.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Buckle up, dear friends, this one and the next one is gonna be a ride.</p><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ’Whoever Said’ By Pearl Jam</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Sedation, pain, mention of spouse/sibling death, blood, descriptions of wounds</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 18th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p>   <br/>Her head felt like it was full of cotton, and her ears wouldn’t stop ringing as she forced her eyes open and instantly closed them again. Her limbs felt heavy and weighed down, and she couldn’t ignore the agony in <em> that same goddamn leg </em>as she came to her senses. Something was different about the pain in her leg, though, she felt almost as if there was more weight to it, like something heavy had been placed over what was left. Whatever it was, she knew she didn’t like it. She felt sick and groggy as she squinted in the dim light, trying to remember what had happened. </p><p>Last she remembered, she’d been extremely tired, feeling almost as if she were compelled to sleep while calculating how much food they had left over with Tim. Tim had noticed how tired she looked and told her it was okay if she wanted to go to sleep and then...she had, right? </p><p> No, because then she’d suddenly felt as though she was burning and freezing all at once as sleep pulled her into its depths...she shuddered at the memory. </p><p> After that, there had been only darkness and delirium. She vaguely remembered seeing several shades of light blue and dark green and hearing Paul’s voice echoing in her mind, though she couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. He sounded scared, though, and although she tried to listen harder, or find him in the swirling dark colors of her dreams, she could only hear his voice growing fainter and fainter. </p><p> She tried to slowly open her eyes again, not hearing the familiar sounds of metal on stone, or smelling the dirt and dust that she’d grown used to over the course of the past few months. In its place, she smelled something that was...clean...and cold….and the blankets that covered her didn’t feel ratty anymore. No, they felt...soft...and clean...which could mean only one thing; they weren’t in Hidgens’ basement anymore</p><p>
  <em> Where were they? </em>
</p><p>As she opened her eyes, she was met with a dim silver light, which was different from the usual bronze lantern and fire light from their time in the caves, she could hear the faint sounds of beeping and chimes from medical equipment, and familiar voices she could remember, but hadn’t heard in forever. The world was painted in shades of grey and white, and she could only find herself being overwhelmed as the scent of powerful antiseptic (or bleach- not that her groggy mind could tell the difference) washed over her. She groaned at the sensation. </p><p>“Emma!” </p><p>Suddenly, she heard her name coming from a familiar voice, as a blob of blue and red made it’s way over to her, the features of what she assumed was a person becoming more and more defined as she came to her senses, “You’re awake!” </p><p>She tried to open her mouth to speak, but she found that her throat was raw, as if something had been shoved down her throat and pulled back up abruptly, so whatever words or questions she tried to formulate probably came out as a pained groan. </p><p>As her eyes adjusted, the red and blue blob slowly shaped itself into the form of a person. A familiar person. </p><p>“B-Becky?” she whispered through her raspy voice. </p><p>Was she dead?</p><p>Becky nodded as a sickeningly sweet smile crossed her face, “It’s okay, Emma, you’re safe now…”</p><p>“Wha-” she was cut off by a bout of coughing as her lungs and voice protested at the sudden use, “Wha...happ-”</p><p>“You guys managed to break through the barrier yesterday afternoon,” Becky explained, keeping her voice clear and slow so Emma’s possibly drugged mind could understand what she was saying, “When that happened, you were unconscious and feverish, and we diagnosed sepsis. Dr. Kirk went in and removed the dead tissue from your leg again, and now we have you on fluids and pain meds.”</p><p>Through her vision, Emma could make out that she was in a hospital bed, a scratchy blanket laying over her, except for her residual limb, which looked like it was wrapped in something heavy and tough, like a cast. She figured she must have been on some pretty powerful drugs because the pain in her leg now only felt like a dull throb as opposed to the stabbing and burning she was used to. </p><p>Becky said they’d made it out?</p><p>Ah...that made sense...sort of. </p><p>
  <em> Wait...what? </em>
</p><p>She stopped suddenly as the words sank in, the EKG she was hooked up to beeping quickly as her heart rate rose immensely. </p><p>They managed to break through?</p><p>Suddenly, she felt much more awake. Her mind racing as she tried to get herself to move.</p><p>How long had they been back? </p><p>Where were they? </p><p>Where were the others? </p><p>Where was-</p><p>“Where’s…” she gasped out, panic suddenly settling over her bones, “Where’s Tim?” </p><p>“It’s okay,” Becky soothed, helping her lay back down flat on her back, “Tim’s okay...look...” Becky moved over to reveal a hospital bed on the other side of what looked like a long hallway in the shitty lighting. As Emma’s vision adjusted and she blinked away the dust that had built up in her eyes, she could suddenly see Tim, sitting on the bed with…</p><p>“Tom…” she murmured, never realizing how happy she would have felt to see her brother-in-law. </p><p>As if on cue, Tim and Tom looked up from whatever it was that they were doing and wide grins crossed both of their faces. Tim jumped off of the bed, his small hospital gown almost engulfing how skinny he’d become over the course of the past few months and he bounded across the room towards her, Tom following behind. </p><p>“Aunt Emma!” The boy cheered, “You’re awake!” </p><p>“Hey, Bud,” she whispered, her voice still raspy and her head hurting slightly with how loud his voice was, “You okay?” </p><p>The boy nodded, his eyes wide as he turned to look at Tom who sauntered up behind him, “Look! Dad’s here!” </p><p>Tom moved close behind Tim, his eyes widened and filled with shock as he took in the form of his sister-in-law.</p><p>“Hey, Tom,” Emma rasped quietly, breaking down into another bout of raspy coughs. </p><p>“Emma…” he whispered, “You look like shit…”</p><p>Emma laughed as Becky lightly punched him in the side, despite the protests of her throat and head, “Yeah...no kidding.”</p><p>“I mean,” Tom looked over Emma’s body, “I heard you lost a leg…”</p><p>“Yeah,” she choked out, “I got fucked up real bad, huh?” </p><p> Tom nodded before looking at Tim, “Hey, buddy, can I talk to your Aunt alone for a moment?”</p><p>Tim nodded, “Sure,” before looking at Emma with wide eyes and taking her hand- which, apparently had an IV in it- gently, “I’m glad you’re okay…” </p><p>“Me too, buddy,” she whispered, managing a small smile for the little boy, “Me too…”</p><p>Tim smiled once more, before Becky began to gently lead Tim back to his bed, both of them talking excitedly about something Emma couldn’t quite hear. Tom pulled up a small side chair and sat down beside her, his eyes wide as he regarded her. </p><p>“Holy shit, Emma…” he whispered after a while. </p><p>“My thoughts exactly,” she groaned, closing her eyes to hopefully alleviate some of the throbbing in her skull, “How long was I under?” </p><p>“Xander said you were unconscious when they broke through,” Tom whispered, “And they way I understand it, they took you in for surgery about an hour after they put you under quarantine...I came in to see Tim an hour or so later, and you were brought back after surgery four hours after that. You’ve probably been asleep for more, though…”</p><p>“Shit,” she chuckled, leaning back on the pillows. </p><p>“Yeah…” Tom chuckled, his face falling slightly after a moment of silence, “We thought you were dead, Em…”</p><p>Emma sighed, “I know…”</p><p>“All those months,” Tom whispered, staring into nothingness and shaking his head, “All those months we were so sure you guys were gone...and you were taking care of him…”</p><p>“Hey,” Emma craned her neck to look at him, “I promised you I wasn’t gonna come back until Tim was safe...and I meant to make good on it.”</p><p>Tom nodded, his eyes trailing over to his son, “Damn straight you did...God…”</p><p>He trailed off, staring down at his lap before looking up, “Emma...you lost your fucking leg and you’ve kept him alive this long…”</p><p>“I mean...the leg wasn’t really-” she began, almost setting herself up to bully him for being sentimental, before he cut her off. </p><p>“Please, just listen,” he said calmly, “You put your goddamned <em> life </em>on the line to save him...you risked everything for him...and John told me you even skipped a few meals just so he could eat…”</p><p>“It wasn’t-” she began, feeling uncomfortable with the rawness of his emotion.</p><p>“Emma,” Tom began seriously, “What I’m trying to say is...I couldn’t have asked for a better, braver, more ballsy sister-in-law, to be the aunt to my son. To be a part of my family...”</p><p>Emma was taken aback by his words, her eyes filling with tears as she saw nothing but sincerity in his gaze. This man, who she thought to have hated her for so long, had nothing but gratitude and thanks in his eyes. </p><p>“There is nothing…” he began, wiping his eyes as he looked at her, “Nothing I could ever do to thank you enough for what you’ve done...all I can say is…” </p><p>“Tom…”</p><p>“Jane would be so proud of you…” Tom finished, “And I know this because Tim is...and I am too…” he wiped at his eyes again as more tears welled up, “And we’re so proud to have you in our family…”</p><p>Tears dripped from her eyes as the words sank in. That was all she ever wanted from them since Jane had died. She’d been such a shitty sister to Jane, the bitterness from her unhappy childhood keeping her as far away from her as possible. Of course, Jane’s approval had mattered more than anything to her, which was why she felt distancing would make the inevitable rejection of her by her sister all the more easier. But that rejection had never come, because Jane had died. </p><p>Then suddenly, she had a family. A family that was angry with her, and rightfully so, and she was determined to prove them wrong. She knew it was very likely that she’d never earn the regard of her brother-in-law (who, Emma admittedly tried to talk Jane out of marrying the night before their wedding), and it didn’t matter to her. She didn’t expect them to forgive her. She just wanted them to know that at the very last she was trying. Trying to make Jane proud. She knew she would be undeserving of any love her nephew had offered to her, and she would never be able to escape the mistakes of her past, but none of that mattered because at the very least, she was gonna work her hardest. She would be damned if she was gonna let the family she had go to waste. She wasn’t gonna let Tim become another Jane. </p><p>And now...now Tom had just told her that she had made Jane proud...that all of her efforts hadn’t been in vain. </p><p>Saving Tim hadn’t been something she did because she felt like she needed to prove anything to Tom. It hadn’t been anything she’d done because she felt like she owed it to Jane or Tom, or hopes that it would raise her in Tom’s regard...no. </p><p>Saving Tim had been something she would do without a shadow of doubt. She would take a bullet for that kid without any second thought. Because he was family.  Because she had his back, even if they didn’t have hers. </p><p>She didn’t expect any thanks, or anything in return. As long as she got Tim back to his father, she was happy. </p><p>She’d never expected <em> this… </em></p><p>Before she could stop herself from crying a shaky sob left her. </p><p>God, she missed Jane…</p><p>She wished she’d taken the time to actually call every so often, or get on a plane and visit for the big events. She wished she could have been there for their wedding, or to see her after Tim was born, or show up for either of their parents' funerals. She wished she could have let Jane know how much she loved her, because she certainly had done a shitty job at showing it. </p><p>“Th-Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at him gratefully, “You have no idea how much that means to me…” </p><p>God, she couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe how much joy she was feeling. Had it not been for the crappy circumstances and the roughness of her voice she would have sang from the mountaintops. She couldn’t wait to tell Paul -</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit! </em>
</p><p>How the hell had she forgotten about him? </p><p>They were back! They were safe! He was here too, which meant he had to be waiting for her, right? Where was he?</p><p>Her heart picked up the pace as she turned to Tom, her eyes widening, “Tom...is Paul here?”</p><p>At her words, Tom’s eyes widened and his face paled. The softness and joy that he’d been expressing disappeared suddenly, and something like fear took root in his eyes. </p><p>Suddenly, she could feel nothing but dread filling her stomach. She could hear her heartbeat loudly in her ears as she recognized a look of fear in his eyes that she immediately didn’t like. </p><p>“Tom,” she repeated again, her voice the clearest it had been since she’d woken up, “Where... is Paul?” </p><p>“Emma…” Tom whispered, “I-”</p><p>“Oh, God,” she whispered, worried that he was about to tell her that he was dead, “Shit…”</p><p>He couldn’t be dead, could he? The thought was nauseating to her. She’d been speaking to him the day before,...the chances of him dying between then and now were small...but the look on Tim’s face.</p><p>“He’s not dead, Emma,” Tom said quickly, as if he could read Emma’s fear on her face. She breathed a sigh of relief, “But...I don’t know what to tell you…”</p><p>“Just say it…” she whispered, hoping with all of her might that he wasn’t hurting, “Please, Tom...I need to know...I don’t care how fucking bad it is...just tell me, <em> please </em>.”</p><p>Normally she would have hated how weak and shaky her voice sounded, but this was <em> Paul </em>that she was worrying about. She didn’t care how pathetic or physically weak she appeared, she’d walk through hell and back for him. They’d been through too much together for this to be the end. </p><p>Tom sighed, “Emma, first there’s something you need to know,” his voice got low into a quiet whisper as his eyes darted around  the infirmary. </p><p>“Just tell me, Tom!” she whispered growing impatient, hating the way the EKG was revealing how fast her heart was going. She couldn’t bring herself to care. If Paul’s life were at stake, she would do anything to make him safe. She was so close to seeing him again, and if Tom would just hurry it up-</p><p>“Schaeffer is the one who set the bomb,” Tom whispered quickly and quietly, “she’s the reason you were all stuck in there.”</p><p>Emma could have sworn she felt her blood run cold and boil over all at once as she contemplated his words.</p><p>Xander had mentioned that the bomb used to trap them all in Hidgens basement and crush her leg had been something that only people at a certain level within PEIP’s ranks would have access to. If what Tom was saying was true, then it made sense that Schaeffer would have been the one to use it. What she didn’t understand was <em> why, </em>but that could be a question for later, her primary focus was on Paul. </p><p>“What…” she said, trying to keep a lid on her rage at the woman for now, just until she found out what happened with Paul, “What does Paul have to do with-”</p><p>“He’s the one who figured it out, Emma,” Tom said regrettably, “And Schaeffer knew…”</p><p>“Which means…” she prompted him, her voice shaky.</p><p>“She had a tail on him for weeks, Emma,” Tom sighed, “The first time he started to get hints about the fact that you guys were alive, she had the shit beaten out of him and made him spend a week in the brig.” </p><p>His bleeding and bruised face from one of their shared dreams popped into her mind, making her fall silent as anger unlike anything she’d ever known rose in her chest. He’d said something about Schaeffer throwing him in the brig, hadn’t he? At the time, she’d thought it to be a weird creation of her subconscious, but now that she knew it was actually true she found herself filled with rage. </p><p>“He got out, we found out you were alive,” Tom continued, “And everything changed. We started exchanging information that you gave him secretly...and we thought we were in the clear until the day you guys broke through…”</p><p>“Get to the point, Tom,” she whispered, her heart thudding in her ears as her fear only increased, “What happened to him?” </p><p>”The morning before you guys came back,” Tom inhaled and exhaled sharply, “Schaeffer had your guy’s apartment raided and they took him somewhere we don’t know…Ethan looked out and saw them take him away”</p><p>She couldn’t hear anything after that over the sudden ringing in her ears. Her breath was heavy in her chest. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. </p><p>Her voice was shaky and filled with anger when she spoke, “You don’t know where they took him?” </p><p>Tom looked down regrettably and nodded. </p><p>“Okay…” though the word came out on an exhale, she could barely comprehend the world around her, “Okay...okay...okay…”</p><p>“Emma…” Tom sighed. </p><p>“But he’s alive?” she asked, her words shaky as she tried very carefully to keep herself under control. </p><p>“As far as we know…” Tom murmured. </p><p>“Okay…” she whispered, “I’ll fucking kill that bitch-” </p><p>Without thinking she forced her stiff arms to move, pushing herself up into a sitting position, fighting against the spots that danced in her vision as dizziness overtook her. </p><p>“Whoa, Emma!” Tom spoke quickly, standing to keep her from moving much.</p><p>She shifted and fought against Tom as he tried to keep her from moving off of the bed, although her movements weren’t that strong. She didn’t stop fighting to move off of the bed, not that she knew what success she would have had at moving off of the bed, all she knew was that every instinct in her body was screaming at her to get to Paul. Honestly, she didn’t know </p><p>She hissed in pain as she tried to shake herself free at Tom, who was trying to keep her still on the bed and yelling for a nurse to help him. </p><p>“<em> Please! </em> ” she didn’t know if she was whispering or yelling, either way she was pissed off, “ <em> Let me go!” </em></p><p>“Emma, you’re not gonna do any good if you hurt yourself more!” Tom shouted as he held her down with the assistance of Becky. </p><p>He steadied his hands on her shoulders, making her look him in the eye, and she stopped struggling. She kept struggling</p><p>“Hey! Hey Emma!” Tom said forcefully. </p><p>“<em> Let me go, Tom!” </em> she shouted, “ <em> Fuck you! Let me go!” </em></p><p>“No, Emma!” he said, forcing her to stop and look him in the eye as tears dripped down her cheeks, “Listen to me!”</p><p>“No, you don’t understand-”</p><p>“Emma, listen,” he said, his voice suddenly going gentle, “I know you want to get to him...we all do…” </p><p>“Then fucking act like it!” she snapped, tears pouring from her eyes, “We need to get him! He needs our-”</p><p>“We know, Emma, We know,” Becky said gently, as she helped Emma lay down, trying to calm her down, “But he needs you well first, okay? What good is it gonna do him if you’re still hurt?” </p><p>“I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” she cried, her eyes darting in desperation between the two  hissing in pain as her sudden movements made soreness and agony erupt in what was left of his limb, “Tom...please…” </p><p>“Emma,” Tom whispered, gently making sure she was settled, Becky standing behind him, “Emma, what you need is rest...let us worry about Paul and Schaeffer….”</p><p>“What if she kills him?” she demanded, suddenly finding her muscles feeling tired. She ignored this, her eyes still darting to the door, “What if I can fix this?” </p><p>“How?” Tom asked her, “Emma, I don't know if you've forgotten, but you're on one leg. How would you fix this?” </p><p>“I would-” she stammered, before she cut herself off with a yawn. She glanced down at her arm to see Becky, pushing a syringe of clear fluid into her arm. </p><p>“Emma, I’m so sorry, but I swear you’ll forgive me for this,” Becky murmured as she kept pushing down on the fluid, “Just relax.”</p><p>Before Emma could feel any anger or react, she suddenly felt very heavy, her eyelids fighting to stay open, she fell back against the pillows with a small sigh. She found herself unwillingly relaxing before could complain or curse Becky for her secretive use of a sedative, she found herself suddenly shrouded in silence and darkness, sleep claiming her completely.</p><p>The last thought she had before she was dragged into darkness was of Paul. Of where he might be. If he was scared wherever he was. If he knew she was back.</p><p>She remembered the way their first conversation after they realized the other was alive. </p><p>
  <em> “Please…” he’d said, “Please find me again…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I always do…” </em>
</p><p>That had been her response. And she meant it. </p><p>She would find him again. </p><p>She would do anything for him. </p><p>Even as she was dragged back to darkness, she would never allow herself to break the promises she’d made to him. </p><p>---</p><p>Lex sighed as she pushed aside all of the paperwork and request forms for more benefits, exhausted already from today’s work. She was soaked in her own sweat and grime, and was waiting for Ethan to get out of the shower so she could wash away the soreness and stress of the day. </p><p>Of course, she’d found some comfort in the knownledge that those that had been lost to them were back, but reality screamed at her that they were in no way out of the woods yet. Sure, they had extreme joy at the fact that Emma, Xander, John, and Tim had been returned to them, but it was difficult to keep such amazing information to themselves, for fear that it would attract Schaeffer’s attention, which was the last thing any of them wanted. All they could do was wait, and hope that wherever their family was, that they were safe, and that their trio could remain as such. They knew Paul wasn’t safe, but the fact that John would likely come back to commend provided some comfort in that case as he could get him out of wherever Schaeffer had wrongfully stashed him away. </p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer.  </em>
</p><p>The mere thought of the bitch filled Lex to the brim with unspeakable rage. The woman had tried to murder people who’d made Lex feel safe. People who’d made Lex feel like she, Hannah, and Ethan were part of a functional family. They’d even foudn an actual blood relative who didn’t suck as a person in Paul, and Schaeffer was determined to make his life miserable as it was. It was taking everything in Lex’s power not to summon whatever she could grab from the Black and White to save her family. </p><p>But at the base of it all, she needed to put Hannah and Ethan first. They had been with her before they’d been adopted by these people...and they would come first until the day she died...or at least until she knew that they were free from the madness.</p><p>Hannah hadn't said much, scribbling down little doodles that Lex would never understand on her same small legal pad, using whatever shitty ballpoint pen she could find. She’d not slept well again, which made Lex feel guilty that she had to leave her to go to work. She often worried that she’d never been able to give the time of day to Hannah when it really counted, especially when Schaeffer took control, still, she’d done her best to make these few moments count. </p><p>“What are you drawing, Banana?” she asked, pressing a light kiss to her sister’s forehead as she continued to draw From Lex’s vantage point, it appeared as though Hannah was drawing an intricate rubix cube, but to Hannah, she could have been drawing something completely different.  </p><p>“Bad box,” Hannah whispered, “Here...don’t know yet…”</p><p>Lex raised an eyebrow and looked down at her sister, “Is it a bad thing or a good thing?” </p><p>“Bad box,” Hannah repeated, “Unsure….not a problem...yet.”</p><p>Ethan emerged from their bedroom, his curly hair wet as he ran a towel over it, “Water’s still warm, babe,” he said with a smile. </p><p>“Thank-”</p><p>She was cut off by a sharp knock to the door, snapping her out of her dreams of a warm and cleansing shower. </p><p>The knock was loud, pounding against the door and freezing her blood as the three of them froze. Since Paul had been taken they’d been waiting with bated breath for someone from Schaeffer to show up at the door and take them as well. With Hannah and Lex’s abilities, and the fact that Schaeffer was knowledgeable of them made them feel as though it was only a matter of time before they were hunted down and dragged out inthe middle of the night to join Paul wherever he was. Lex had already had two nightmares where she was forced to watch Hannah and Ethan be dragged from her, unable to do anything about it. </p><p>She shuddered at the notion as another loud knock sounded at the door.</p><p>Her eyes flashed to Ethan, who seemed frozen in place, his eyes darting back between her and Hannah.</p><p>In the stillness of the room, even as the knocking continued, Lex could have sworn she could hear their heartbeats. All of them pounding. </p><p>“Open it.” </p><p>Lex and Ethan, in tandem, turned their gazes to Hannah, who was staring at the door sagely as if she was fascinated by it.</p><p>“No threat,” she went on, “Not here to hurt us…”</p><p>Lex and Ethan looked at each other. In Ethan’s eyes, Lex could see hesitation. She could almost see the blood rushing through the veins and arteries on his neck as he sat there, white as a sheet, regardless of what Hannah had said. </p><p>She took a deep, shaky breath, “I’ll get it…” </p><p>Ethan  nodded, releasing a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in the entire time. She knew that seeing Paul get dragged away had made him especially jumpy. Part of it was just anxiety being a bitch, but she knew that it had to be something else. </p><p>She crept toward the door as the knocking continued, echoing in her mind and making fear grip her heart tighter. </p><p>“Who is it?” she called. She knew from the pattern of the knocking alone that it couldn’t have been Tom or Becky...or even Paul, however much she wished it would be her cousin. This was someone else. </p><p>The response from the other side of the door was hushed and hurried. </p><p>“It’s me, Rodney.”</p><p>Rodney? </p><p>What was he doing there? </p><p>Despite the anxiety that bit away at her heart, she was reminded of the Gingerly, she unlocked and opened the door slowly to see the man in question standing on the other side. </p><p>“Who is it?” Ethan called from the other room, his voice hesitant, almost if he was determining whether or not this was a fight or flight situation. </p><p>“It’s…” Lex stammered, unsure of what to, “It’s Callum Rodney…” </p><p>As she regarded the man that stood in front of her, she noticed the urgency in his eyes. Something that had been different from the last time she’d seen him. Back when she’d pleaded with him to let her into the brig to see Tom. In his eyes, instead of the resignation to follow orders, Lex could see concern… and fear. </p><p>“Lex,” Rodney nodded, “Can I come in? It’s very important…”</p><p>“I mean, sure-” she didn’t get to finish her sentence as Rodney pushed past her, a duffle bag he was carrying slamming into her as he walked past. Before she could protest, she could see in his gaze that something was bothering him, and judging from the way he kept glancing over his shoulder, he was terrified. </p><p>She closed the door and walked after him, “Rodney, what’s going on?” </p><p>Rodney was steadying himself against the back of one of the kitchen chairs when she came to the kitchen. </p><p>“Listen,” he whispered, “Listen I don’t have a whole lot of time, but I had to tell you...before Schaeffer takes matters into her own hands…”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as they all stood there, contemplating the words. It seemed as if they all were acknowledging that something bad was going to happen, but nobody wanted to ask what it was. </p><p>“Rodney,” Ethan spoke first, his eyes wide, “What’s wrong…? What has Schaeffer done?”</p><p>“Um…” Rodney sighed, “It’s bad…”</p><p>“Yeah, no shit,” Lex laughed.</p><p>“No, no…” Rodney shook his head, “Schaeffer’s on her last nerve and she’s…well, it’s not what she has done, it’s what she’s ordered me to do.” </p><p>Lex inhaled and exhaled sharply as a tense silence settled over the room, “What...what has she ordered you to do?” </p><p>Rodney looked down, “Well...I don’t know if you’ve heard...but…” he inhaled and exhaled sharply and leaned in, almost as if he was telling them a big secret, “<em> General John McNamara, Major Lee, Captain Houston’s kid, and Emma Perkons are alive…” </em></p><p>There was a brief moment of silence before Hannah began to chuckle. </p><p>“We know,” she chuckled lightly.  </p><p>Rodney looked sheepish, “Well, yes...I mean, I should have guessed...but the fact that they’re back pissed Schaeffer off to no end.”</p><p>Lex swallowed hard, “What do you mean…?” the urgency in his eyes making a chill run over her bones, “What do you mean…? What- How pissed off was she?”</p><p>“Pissed off enough,” Rodney whispered, setting his jaw and gritting his teeth, “...To order me to kill Paul within the next three days…”</p><p>The silence that suddenly enveloped the room was deafening as a fury unlike anything else settled in Lex.</p><p>Hadn’t Schaeffer taken enough from her family?</p><p>She had spent three months thinking that almost half of the family she had found was dead. She had spent three months in grief and trying to work as hard as she could to keep what remained together. Then Hannah and Paul found that they were alive, but had made themselves targets in the process. While it had been lucky that Hannah had never been approached by Schaeffer or her goons, Paul, who’d become a prominent figure in their lives was about to pay the price for looking for the truth with his life.  </p><p>Before she could scream or fight, Ethan spoke up.</p><p>“Why...why are you,” He whispered, staring down at the ground as he swallowed hard, “Why are you telling us?” </p><p>Rodney bit his lip and stared down at the ground. </p><p>“Because,” Hannah whispered, “He doesn’t wanna do it…”</p><p>Lex looked at Rodney, whose eyes were wide as he nodded at the little girl. Despite the knowledge of what Schaeffer had ordered, Hannah’s grave expression betrayed a small amount of hope. Hope that had made it clear that there was a mutual understanding between them, which escaped Ethan and Lex. </p><p>“Paul’s a good man,” Rodney nodded, “He doesn’t deserve to be killed...He didn’t deserve any of the shit that Schaeffer’s thrown in his face...which is why I’m telling you guys about this, because I’ve got an idea.”</p><p>“I’m listening,” Lex said without hesitation. </p><p>Rodney opened his duffel bag, “I told her I was going to do it within three days, but I also know that we need to get him somewhere safe if we’re gonna free him. If we break him out, she’ll know...which is why I think at the very least we should try to give the slightest impression that he’s dead...”</p><p>Ethan inhaled and exhaled, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“He’s in this lower level room we used to use to view specimens, it’s called the Citadel Chamber...fortunately for us, the security cameras around the chamber, in addition to most of the electrical workings of the area, are not functional,” Rodney explained, turning to Ethan, “My plan is to bring a gurney and body bag down there, and Edmond Dantes the hell out of it…”</p><p>Ethan chuckled in confusion, “Um...what does that mean?” </p><p>“We smuggle him out of the brig in the body bag,” Rodney explained, “And bring him to one of the Quarantine Bays, since most of them are abandoned, except for the one that they’re being held in…my plan is to reunite you guys with them, and then transport you to a different smuggling bay that Schaeffer hopefully doesn’t know about...”</p><p>“Hopefully!” Lex exclaimed, “Rodney, Schaeffer will have our heads if this fails! Do you know what we would be risking?” </p><p>“I know,” Rodney nodded, “And if it wasn’t life or death for any of you then I wouldn’t be asking...but Schaeffer was willing to make the erratic decision to kill Paul...and if I’ve got my facts straight, she ordered a surgery on Emma that she knew she might not survive.” </p><p>Lex looked down as he continued to speak. </p><p>“If ever there was a time to make a move, this would be it,” Rodney said, “And I’m sorry that I’m asking this of you kids, but you’re the only ones that are still around since Tom and Becky are in the Q bay with them already…”</p><p>Lex met the man’s gaze and saw how regretful he looked, how difficult the choice appeared to be for him. </p><p>He was right in saying that they were in a sticky situation, and that tension would only get greater until they did something about it, or until they were killed. Lex would have preferred the former. </p><p>She hated that Rodney, a man who’d sat down and taken all of the demotions and shit that Schaeffer had thrown at him, was right. She hated that <em> this </em>was the way that she would have to keep her family safe...that is, if she wanted to keep all of them safe. </p><p>Before she’d had a family, she’d only had Ethan and Hannah. Those two had become her life. Her motivation. But since the world had begun to fall into ruin, and she found her life in the hands of complete and total strangers, she found herself in a family that legitimately wanted to protect her. Who valued her. Empowered her. Protected her and Hannah when nobody else would. And they never made her feel like she owed them anything. She never felt like she was working for debtors. Rather, she felt safe and warm when she was around them, and she had been  partially destroyed when some of them had been taken away. </p><p> When they’d thought that Tim, Emma, John, and Xander were dead, the normal grief was still there, but in some ways it had killed Paul and Tom, that much was true. It wasn’t right that the grief should have that effect, but it did. </p><p>Now, they had hope that they’d all be a family again, and one <em> fucking greedy </em>woman was going to rip it all away. </p><p>Rodney was right that now was the time to make their move...but what would be the cost? </p><p>Would she be able to keep Ethan and Hannah safe?<br/>    “Will be okay, Lexi,” Hannah murmured. </p><p>Lex looked down to see that the little girl had moved to stand beside her, her big brown eyes staring into Lex’s soul. </p><p>Suddenly, Lex was reminded of the way that it had felt to stare into those dark eyes for the first time. Holding her tiny baby sister for the first time had been a change in her life that had made her determined to let no harm come to the little thing. In those brown eyes, Lex had been able to see nothing but truth, and life. It was true that life was filled with impossibilities nowadays but she was determined to protect Hannah at any cost...so would this mission jeopardize that?</p><p>Hannah took Lex’s hand in her own gently and squeezed it, “Won’t, Lexi...everything will turn out alright in the end…” </p><p>Lex glanced down at the earnest look in her sister’s eyes, wanting to believe her with everything in her heart, “But what if you’re-”</p><p>“Not wrong,” Hannah said definitively, “Save Paul. Save everyone. Beat Schaeffer.”</p><p>Ethan sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, “It’s a lot more difficult than that, Banana?” </p><p>“Really not!” Hannah exclaimed whirling on him, “Time’s up...June’s not on top anymore...she knows it too.”</p><p>After another moment of silence, Hannah went on, “<em> Wait and she’ll kill Paul...Emma, Tom, Becky, John, Xander...us too </em>.”</p><p>Lex looked down at the floor. Despite being a person of few words, Hannah wasn’t any less right. The brutal truth was always in Hannah’s grasp, and Lex couldn’t ever bring herself to doubt her. </p><p>“She’s right,” Rodney whispered, looking at Lex apologetically, “Schaeffer’s going off the rails, I have no doubt she’ll kill anyone to stay in power…”</p><p>Ethan nodded, “It makes sense….but where will we go? Where can all of us hide that she won’t find us?” </p><p>    “I’ve been thinking about that,” Rodney said, “There’s an abandoned shaft that goes  from the Quarantine O.R. to a place we used to use for mortuary, but abandoned due to power failures. Not many people know about it, but it’s easy for people to subtly hide in. I can bring down supplies, as long as you guys stay hidden while we figure out what to do about Schaeffer.”</p><p>    Ethan sighed and looked at Lex, “It’s your call, babe...but I think he’s right when he says we ain’t safe here anymore.”</p><p>    As Lex looked into Ethan’s eyes she saw a sense of fear rooted in them, which made it difficult for her to ignore how painfully correct he was. He had to be right. </p><p>The facts remained that Schaeffer was dangerous and desperate, and she would do anything to stay in power. Lex would have to be a fool to ignore that.  </p><p>Lex sighed and looked down at Hannah, “What do you think?”  </p><p>Hannah closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing and unfurrowing as she concentrated, clearly hearing and seeing things that Lex would never be able to comprehend or make sense of. After a while, Hannah’s eyes gracefully opened. </p><p>“No other choice,” she whispered, her voice certain, “Do or die.”</p><p>Lex shuddered slightly at the words and closed her eyes. Hannah’s whole life, Lex had spent trying to help the girl survive. Keeping her sister safe and alive had always been her top priority. Sure, Lex had her own dreams and ambitions, but <em> Hannah </em> was always at the forefront of any decision she’d ever made. Hell, the California plan had been so she and Ethan could give Hannah a better life, far away from Hatchetfield and <em> far </em> away from Pamela.</p><p>If they went through with this, she’d be throwing the three of them far into the game just a little bit <em> before </em>Schaeffer dragged them into it. Regardless of what she wanted, it was a ‘damned if you don’t, damned if you do’ situation.</p><p>She glanced down at Hannah again, the girl still holding onto her own hand gently, behind them, Ethan had sauntered up and lightly placed his hand on Lex’s shoulder. She savored their touch. Back before Ethan had ever died she was so certain that it would always be the three of them against the world. But it wasn’t that way anymore. They were surrounded by people who <em> wanted </em> to keep them safe and <em> wanted </em>them to be happy. </p><p>They weren’t alone anymore…</p><p>She inhaled and exhaled deeply, meeting both Ethan and Hannah’s eye. </p><p>“Okay,” she sighed, turning to face Rodney, “What’s the plan?” </p><p>He nodded in thanks before turning to Ethan, “I have a plan that should keep you guys out of the crossfire for the most part...but first I have to ask you something.”</p><p>Ethan raised an eyebrow, “Me?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Rodney nodded, “You’re younger than me by like...five years, but we do look a lot alike, yes?” </p><p>He turned to Ledx for confirmation and she glanced between the two of them, her brows furrowing. </p><p>As Lex glanced between the two of them, she could see similarities in appearances that she hadn’t noticed before. Same build. Relatively same height. Similar noses. Eerily similar eyes. Same dark curly hair, although Rodney’s looked a little more contained. Overall, he was right in the assumption. </p><p>At her nod, Ethan shrugged, “Yeah, I guess why do you…” </p><p>“I’m getting there,” Rodney smiled before unfolding something from his duffle bag and handing it to Ethan. </p><p>Ethan suddenly looked very much like  a deer in the headlights. </p><p>“Have you ever seen the Parent Trap?”</p><p>—</p><p>Ethan gulped as he followed Rodney’s map into the lower levels of the PEIP base. The dark hallways were characterized only by the flickering of fluorescent lights and the silence that was deafening, making an unpleasant chill run up and down his spine as he shifted uncomfortably in Rodney’s uniform. </p><p>    After an hour of planning with Rodney, they’d decided that Ethan, because he looked like Rodney would be the one to retrieve Paul, since it was likely that he wouldn’t trust Rodney to be the one to get him. Rodney would provide Ethan with an alibi, and lead Lex and Hannah to the Quarantine bay with the others, where they would hopefully be able to successfully relocate the survivors without anybody noticing. While it seemed like a good plan, the fact that Rodney recruited a bunch of teenagers should have been <em> mildly </em>concerning. Rodney said there shouldn’t be any conflict, then again, if Schaeffer caught them, it was likely that it would result in horrifying consequences he didn’t want to think about.</p><p>The idea made him nauseous. </p><p>It had been so last second, so <em> spontaneous </em>, that he only worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off. </p><p>Still, it was better than just leaving Paul down there to die. </p><p>Rodney had given Ethan  a small chip that he could put in his transponder, in order to find his way around the base to the place where they’d been keeping Paul, and then subsequently (whatever that meant) to the medical bay, where Rodney would direct them to the little secret space they would hide in until they could figure something out. </p><p>He pushed the gurney, with the chilling black bag laying across it infront of him. When Rodney had left it for him, beside one of the service elevators, Ethan had instantly felt a chill settle over his body. It didn’t seem right that the dead would be transported in something that looked and smelled so...<em> ominous. </em> Still, it was their mode of keeping Paul alive until they could reunite him with Emma and get everyone to the safe place. </p><p>God, Paul would be reunited with Emma...after so long…</p><p>The idea brought a small smile to his face. </p><p>He’d been very fortunate that he’d never been separated from Lex and Hannah when the Six not-horses of the apocalypse (although he was fairly certain Hannah had mentioned the fact that one of them was a goat?) had emerged. He didn’t think he would have handled being away from them after having been in the Black and White after so long...especially after he thought that they were dead….</p><p>Man, Paul had seemed so...<em> broken </em> after they assumed Emma and the others dead. Ethan could never have imagined that for himself. He didn’t <em> want </em>that for himself...or anyone else, for that matter. After all, Mr. Houston had stopped working after his wife had died, but the fact that Becky was in his life once more made things easier...and now that he apparently had his son back, he was certain that the next time he saw Mr. Houston, the life that had been vacant from his eyes for so long, would have returned. </p><p>He turned another corner, and another annoyingly persistent chill ran up his spine. This hallway looked like something out of a horror movie. Papers strewn about the floor. Bare walls and shelves that lined the walls that were only made visible in the flickering light. </p><p>Why on earth would <em> anybody </em>leave anyone down here to die? </p><p>Oh right, Schaeffer was a murderous bitch without a soul. </p><p>The fact that she’d tried to assassinate John and Xander, with the knowledge that an eleven-    year-old would be down there with them, had baffled him. Two civilians, who were drawn into the fight by fate were just <em> collateral damage </em>to her, and Ethan would never understand that. </p><p>For a human, he knew, June Schaeffer was the most monstrous person he’d ever had the displeasure of ever encountering. </p><p>He glanced down at the small map again and saw that he was close, just one more turn to what he was pretty sure was the left and he would find the Citadel Chamber...the place where Paul had been isolated and alone. </p><p>Part of him was afraid of what he might find. That the damage they’d done to Paul had been too great, and that he was already dead….the thought was terrifying, and Ethan tried to shake it free from his mind. Rodney had mentioned that Schaeffer had done her best to make Paul’s life a living hell by sending less-than-friendly operatives down there several times a day to beat the shit out of him. He didn’t know what he would find down there, but he would make good on the promise he’d made to himself when he’d said he’d see Paul happy again. </p><p>They were so close to fixing the family that had been broken apart. </p><p>As far as he knew, John and Xander were still together, Becky and Tom had been reunited with Tim, Rodney, under the guise of Ethan, was going to smuggle Hannah and Lex into Bay Q5 in order to reunite them with the others, and if Ethan did his job right, Paul would be back with Emma in no time. </p><p><em> No pressure, Green </em> , he thought to himself, <em> Just get it done.  </em></p><p>Get her done. </p><p>Wasn’t that what John used to say to him in those early days in the Black and White? </p><p>God, Ethan missed that man with his militaristic efficiency and good heart. He always told the best stories and was a guiding hand when Ethan couldn’t talk to his dad. The thought that he’d see him soon was exhilarating. </p><p>Suddenly, he felt far more motivated to get this done. </p><p>He made the final turn and had to stifle a small gasp as he came to a pristine white door with only a small slot for a window. There was no handle, just a key card slide, and from within the small chamber, he was able to see the flickering of light. </p><p>“Geez,” he muttered to himself as he dug out the keycard that Rodney had given him, quickly sliding it into the reader and watching as the door beeped slightly and slid open. </p><p>As the door opened completely, the flickering of the light within the chamber came to a stop and Ethan cursed at the sight of red smeared and splattered over the floor and walls of the bare room. </p><p>“Shit…” Ethan murmured, his eyes scanning the room, looking for any indication of his friend. </p><p>He gasped when he saw him. </p><p>He was curled up in fetal position, his face looking even worse than it had when he’d been released from the brig. Dried blood painted his face in patterns, and the only space on his face that didn’t look bruised or swollen or bleeding, was the space under his eyes where tears had literally run his face clean. He was shaking and shivering against the wall, holding a torn and ratty blanket over him to hopefully ward off the chill of the room. </p><p>Ethan fought back the tears that pricked the back of his eyes at seeing his friend in this state and he ran to him. </p><p>“Paul,” he whispered, “Hey, Paul, buddy c’mon...c’mon, get up…”</p><p>“Nh…” Paul groaned, wincing as he shifted slightly in what couldn’t have been a restful sleep. He cracked one slightly swollen eye open, “R-Rodney?” </p><p>Ethan chuckled slightly under his breath, “No, Paul...it’s me…”</p><p>Paul nodded and cracked a weak smile, “Ethan…”</p><p>Ethan smiled sadly as the man struggled to sit up without flinching in pain, “Shit, man...what did they do to you…” </p><p>Paul shook his head and murmured sleepily, “Doesn’t matter…”</p><p>Ethan dug a rag out of Rodney’s uniform, ran over to the small makeshift sink, which only seemed to drip water, and handed the damp rag to Paul, “Here...why don’t you clean yourself up a little bit…”</p><p>“Why?” Paul laughed humorlessly, hissing through his teeth as he dabbed the washcloth over his gashes and wounds,  forcing the dried blood to flake away and reveal the dark bruises that marred his face, “Does it look that bad?” </p><p>“Worse,” Ethan shook his head, “Buddy, you look like you got hit by a truck…”</p><p>Paul hissed in pain again, most of the blood clean from his face, “Yeah...after a few hours of that, it certainly felt like it…” </p><p>He smiled up at Ethan, “It is nice to see a friendly face though...How’d you find me?” </p><p>“Rodney,” Ethan nodded, “Which is why we can’t stay here for long, we need to get you out of here.” </p><p>“Wh-Why?” Paul whispered, releasing a small cough as he continued to dab at his face with the cloth. His eyes suddenly widened, looking much more alert and awake, “Is it Emma?! I know they got out, but are they okay? Did something happen to-” </p><p>“No, Paul,” Ethan held out his hands to keep the man from falling over, “No, as far as I know, everyone’s fine for now...it’s you we have to worry about since Schaeffer ordered Rodney to kill you...we’re gonna get you out of here, then Rodney’s gonna get us to this safe place where we can hide until we figure stuff out…”</p><p>Upon hearing that Emma was fine, Paul seemed to relax, the news of Schaeffer trying to kill him not fazing him. Instead, he looked up determinedly, “What’s the plan?” </p><p>“One sec,” Ethan stood and walked to retrieve the gurney from where he’d left it in the hallway. As he pulled it in, Paul looked up at him in confusion. </p><p>“What’s this?” he asked, “Is that a trash bag?”</p><p>“A body bag,” Ethan corrected, “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s what we could think of on such a short notice…”</p><p>He straightened the bag up on the gurney and unzipped it, releasing a smell that vaguely reminded him of rubber. He turned to Paul, who was struggling to stand as he steadied himself against the wall.</p><p>“I never thought I’d ever say this to you...or anybody,” Ethan deadpanned, “But, Paul...<em> get in the body bag.”   </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...the only thing keeping Emma from straight up murdering Schaeffer is Tom and Becky...the girls just been through the ringer...</p><p>Lex, you're doing amazing sweetie!!!</p><p>Also!!! THE JAILBREAK YOUVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!!</p><p>”*Paul* getinthebodybag”</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like!!! I wish you all a less hellish new year full of prosperity and life. Whether this year was good, meh, or just downright awful...YOU MADE IT!!! BE PROUD OF YOURSELF!!!</p><p>I promised myself I would finish this chapter before the new year in my time zone and I MADE IT!!! By fifteen minutes!!!!</p><p>As always, thank you so much for reading, and I wish you all a year that's hopefully less awful than 2020 *knock on wood*</p><p>THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Take this Sinking Boat and Point it Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I can’t think of a summary for this one, so...that should tell you all you need to know</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ‘Falling Slowly’ by Glen Hansard.</p><p>Originally, this was going to be one big chapter, but plans change, so this is kinda gonna be a two-parter...</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!: Schaeffer, Blood, mentions of violence, pain</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>The air of the office smelled like a mix of whiskey, firewood, and gunpowder: almost as if someone had made a candle out of her childhood memories in South Carolina. A childhood where her biggest worries were just making sure the trash was taken out, and the gates for the cows were locked on time. Back then, her father had been the only one teaching her about life, a simple man with a small farm outside of Chesterfield. </p><p>“<em>Take what you want, June bug,” </em> he’d always said, “ <em> If you want something, go for it.” </em></p><p>Of course, her father hadn’t had any real ambition. He’d probably told her what he had because people always tried to come and buy the land away from him. He’d only wanted to maintain the farm that had been his fathers before him. June, however, had wanted so much more. It had felt like a disservice to her father to sell the farm after he died, but she had dreams for a life in the army, dreams to be something more than just a simple farmer as nearly everyone in her family had been. But she’d followed his creed her whole life, taking his words to heart. It was those words that had gotten her to where she was now. </p><p>Schaeffer paced in her office again, breathing deeply. The night was young...not that it mattered, since the fact remained they wouldn’t see the sky any time soon, especially not if she had her way. </p><p>She fiddled with her fingers, staring down at her feet as she paced on the hardwood floors of what she hoped would remain her office for a very long time. </p><p>She eyed the instrument that she had laid out on her desk an hour before, staring the sleek weapon down as light from her lap ricocheted through her half-empty whiskey bottle and cast a slight glow down upon it. She sighed deeply, doing what she hoped would either bring her success or deep failure. . This wasn't a decision she had come to easily (actually, it was, it just took her a little longer to make it), but she knew it had to be done.</p><p>She didn't take pleasure in making the choices that she did (actually, she did, it was just easier on her almost-nonexistent conscience to think like that), but if she was going to maintain control, she had to do it. </p><p>She picked up the gun from her desk, inspecting it carefully. She removed the magazine and counted out the bullets.</p><p>She was a good shot. It was likely she'd only need one for each to get the job done. </p><p>One for John.</p><p>One for Xander.</p><p>One for the new girl.</p><p>One for Tom.</p><p>One for Tom's kid.</p><p>One for Becky. </p><p>One for Emma.</p><p>And an extra, just in case she missed her mark. </p><p>Rodney was gonna kill Paul for her, and she would find someone else to take care of the Foster girls and Ethan Green. That should be no problem at all.</p><p>She didn't care that these people had once been kind to her. </p><p>She didn't care that she was technically planning the murder of an eleven-year-old. </p><p>She didn't care that she was murdering a family one by one. </p><p>She didn't care that they'd be disappearing without a trace, leaving few people behind wondering what had happened to them.</p><p>She didn't care. </p><p>End of story.</p><p>She had earned this power, and no one was going to make her give it back. </p><p>She put the gun in her holster and sighed deeply. Ready to put an end to all of her worries forever more.</p><p>
  <em> She was in control. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And it would stay that way. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Paul did everything in his power to relax as Ethan zipped up the body bag,  leaving a little space unzipped so he would still be able to breathe, trapping him in the rubber-scented bag on a gurney. He played with his fingers as he waited, feeling Ethan begin to push the gurney through the hallways that he’d been dragged through days before. Ethan had told him to remain as still and quiet as he possibly could, since once they were back in the sector of the infirmary and quarantine bays, they would need to remain under the radar as much as possible to avoid suspicion. </p><p>Still, his heart leaped at the thought of what was to come. </p><p>His mind raced endlessly as he ran through the crash-course plan that Ethan had informed him of before stuffing him painstakingly slow in the tight body bag that he was using all of his energy not to panic from within. The rubber scent and way that it hugged his feet was somewhat overwhelming, making him wish he’d had the sense to calm himself down before he got into the bag.</p><p>He’d be back with Emma soon enough….under the assumption that nothing in Rodney’s plan went wrong. </p><p>His bones and muscles ached as he remained still on the gurney, trying to prevent anybody else from realizing that the body bag actually contained a person that was alive. Laying flat on his back made the gashes and cuts throb, and every time Ethan went over the small ridge to get in and out of an elevator, Paul had to hold his breath to prevent himself from screaming as his body protested. He’d not eaten anything since before Schaeffer had him arrested, so his stomach and chest ached and felt empty, but he couldn't bring himself to be bothered by it. Not when he was so close to seeing Emma again…</p><p>She was on his mind since he'd been freed by Ethan. </p><p>He’d been unsurprised when they’d figured out that Schaeffer had been the one to place the explosive. Suddenly, her drastic changes from a loyal soldier to a vindictive dictator made a great deal of sense.  Suddenly, the reasons why she’d let no one make any efforts to retrieve the bodies of those they thought they’d lost had made much more sense. The fact that Schaeffer had ordered Rodney to kill him had left him unsurprised, but greatly relieved that Ethan was there to bust him out. Though, a great deal of his mind warned him that their mission was a mistake...that they’d be caught and the consequences would truly be devastating. </p><p>Still, he couldn’t bring himself to worry about Schaeffer. </p><p>Not when he was so close to seeing Emma again. </p><p>That was all he’d wanted since she’d left to go save Tim. All he’d wanted was the promise that he would hold her again. The chance to let her know how much she meant to him. The ability to tell her that he loved her again. When she’d ‘died’ he’d been filled with so much defeat, so much pain as the brutal and bitter truth came crashing over him that he’d never be able to get that chance again. But now...they were being given a second chance. And he wasn’t gonna let that go easily. </p><p>He had been able to hear her a few hours before, but her words were blurred and fuzzy and he’d not been able to understand her before she was silenced again. His assumption was that she was under the influence of some pretty strong pain meds, which demanded that she give in to drowsiness every so often. But then again, he worried that she was a little worse for wear...especially since she’d only mentioned something about her leg getting fucked-up. He worried about her a lot.</p><p>Her heartbeat was something he held onto when he was Schaeffer’s favorite prisoner. Through all of the pain and suffering and humiliation that Schaeffer wrought on him, he held on to the fact that Emma was alive and it gave him enough strength to move on through it all. The knowledge that she was alive and closer than before gave him someplace, and provided him with what he needed to forget about the pain that Schaeffer’s operatives seemed so keen on delivering.</p><p>He hoped that she was healthy at the very least, even if he knew that something was wrong...he wanted her to be safe, even if it was wishful thinking….but at the very least they’d be together again, and that was the least he could ask for. It was selfish, he knew, but he’d wanted to see her so badly since he’d learned she was alive. Every single day since then, he’d held on to the presence of her heartbeat as a signal that she was still alive. A reminder that hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wake up to her side of the bed being empty and cold anymore. He missed her with everything he had, and at this point, he wouldn’t let anything stop him from seeing her again. </p><p>He’d seen her in those shared dreams, which had given him hope and strength to carry on, knowing that they would soon be together again, but it wasn’t the same. He was grateful for every second his subconscious had granted him with her, and the letters that she sent him without fail, but now, now he would welcome her home with open arms, desperate to hold her again...and no, he didn’t care how fucking cheesy it sounded. He would live with any teasing that Emma offered him and would take it with a smile. He’d do anything just to see her wonderful teasing face again. He just wanted her.</p><p>He tried not to think about how weird the body bag smelled, or how every time Ethan made a sharp turn he had to stifle a yelp in fear that he’d fall off of the gurney. Occasionally, Ethan would pass by another agent, who would greet himas Rodney, which made Paul hold his breath in fear that they’d be discovered, but when the gurney came to a stop in a silent room, and a door closed behind them, Paul figured they were safe once more. </p><p>“Okay,” Ethan whispered, pulling the zipper free and allowing Paul to breathe a sigh of relief, “We’re all clear.” </p><p>Paul sat up, wincing in pain as his sore back was still raw from the last beating he’d received in which the operative had liked using his baton a little too much. His entire body ached, but he didn’t care, he was going to see Emma today. </p><p>He glanced around his surroundings, trying hard not to get dizzy as he took in where he was. It looked like an operating room of sorts, with equipment and a long surgical table abandoned in the center. The room looked slightly crowded to him, but he tried not to think too much. </p><p>“This is the Quarantine Operating Room, if Rodney told me right,” Ethan explained, removing the outer layers of Rodney’s uniform to reveal a white T-shirt. He’s probably already in bay Q5 with Lex, Hannah, and the others…”</p><p>Paul pushed himself off of the gurney, steadying himself against it as spots danced in his vision, “How do you get to them?” </p><p>“Whoa, buddy,” Ethan held out his hands to keep Paul from falling over, “I ain’t letting you go in there until you change your shirt or something…”</p><p>“We don’t have time for this-” Paul began.</p><p>“Yes, we do,” Ethan reasoned, “I’m not letting you see the love of your life for the first time in forever with blood on your shirt...have some class, Paul, geez…”</p><p>“Besides, Ethan went on, “You can barely stand, and you’ve been in those clothes since you ended up down there to begin with...I ain’t letting you look like a trainwreck…”</p><p>Paul glanced down at his shirt and flinched as he realized that the boy was right. His white T-shirt was stained with dried blood from the days he’d spent in the room. He didn’t want Emma to see him like this...she’d worry, and the <em> last </em>thing he wanted to do was have her worried. Despite how impatient he was to see her, he had to at the very least take the time to not look like the wreck he was. </p><p>Ethan stepped over to the corner, “Rodney should have left something over...ah! Here it is…”</p><p>He tossed a grey sweatshirt over to Paul, who somehow managed to catch it without toppling over. Wincing, he managed to change out of the T-shirt and pull on the soft grey material, stretching out his sore arms and muscles that had been subjected to several occasions of torture. He didn’t care how much it hurt, he was so close to seeing Emma, so he would be as patient as he needed and withstand as much pain as was required.</p><p>Once he had managed to pull the shirt over his aching body, he shivered against the cold air as it ran over his many bruises and cuts. It eased some of the pain in his back and allowed him to stretch after spending however long he had in a fetal position while being imprisoned down there. His legs and arms felt sore and stiff, and he winced as he moved. He fiddled with his arms, pulling them painfully through each of the sleeves, savoring the softness of the fabric. He steadied himself against the gurney once more.   </p><p>Ethan looked him up and down before smiling, “You ready to see them?” </p><p>Paul nodded, “More than anything.”</p><p>He tried to take a shaky step forward and almost fell on his face before Ethan rushed forward and helped him stand up straight. </p><p>“You okay there?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. </p><p>“Yeah…” Paul nodded, ignoring the pain in his legs and back, “Just a little...stiff.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Ethan nodded in understanding, “Just try and steady yourself against the wall, okay?” </p><p>He led Paul over to the wall and helped him find his footing as they began to walk towards a set of wide doors. </p><p>“I ain’t seen em’ yet,” Ethan murmured, “But from what Rodney described...it might not be pretty…” he hesitated to say the next few words, “Just...keep that in mind…”</p><p>Paul managed a small nod and his heart clenched in his chest. He knew that Emma in his dreams had seemed like she was the saem, but what would real-world Emma be like? After all, she’d been through so much, spending so much time dedicating her life to keep the others alive, especially with whatever injuries she might have obtained, God forbid. </p><p>Ethan broke away from Paul so he could push open the doors  that led to a narrow hallway with identical doors lining the walls. The sound of an air conditioner warbling made a chill run up his spine as Ethan began to slowly lead them to where the others were being kept. </p><p>“What else have you heard?” Paul murmured, looking over at his young friend’s determined face, “Did Rodney say anything else?” </p><p>Ethan shrugged, “Only that Schaeffer’s lost her nerve…”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Paul was confused. Surely, the presence of John and Xander would mean  the end of Schaeffer’s power, but she surely wouldn’t let that ruin her cool and calm facade...right?<br/> <br/>“She’s making impulse decisions, I guess,” Ethan murmured, “Which is why Rodney’s trying to smuggle us out of here...so that way we don’t get the brunt of her mindlessness…”</p><p>“I guess that makes sense,” Paul muttered, “But has she done anything rash yet?” </p><p>“Mmhm,” Ethan nodded “She ordered a surgery on someone...that they might not survive...but I don’t know for sure who it was…” </p><p>“But they made it?” Paul asked, fear gripping his heart, “They survived, right?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Ethan nodded, offering him a look of comfort, “As far as I know, all of them are fine…”</p><p>Paul breathed a sigh of relief, “Okay, lets just hope Rodney’s plan works...then we can hide out from her for just a little while longer.”</p><p>Truthfully he just wanted to be with them again. He didn’t want to have to spend more time away from them, specifically Emma, then he had to. After spending so long watching her live life without knowing he existed, to living like she was dead, he had had enough time being away from her. He wouldn’t take his time with her for granted, he just wanted her. </p><p>Eventually, they came to a set of doors with glazed windows and stopped. Paul could have sworn he could hear his heart in his ears. Ethan withdrew a keycard from his pocket and slid it through the reader, allowing for a satisfying click to be heard from the other side signaling that the door had unlocked.</p><p>Ethan pulled back and looked him in the eyes, “You ready for this?”</p><p>Paul nodded eagerly wincing in the soreness in his neck, but ignoring it as Ethan pulled the door open slowly.</p><p>Almost instantly, Paul and Ethan were greeted by the intense scent of disinfectant and bleach, which made Ethan break out into a bout of coughs, steadying himself against the doorframe. </p><p>“There you guys are!” </p><p>Paul looked up to see Lex running towards them, wearing a medical uniform and trailed by Hannah and Rodney. Hannah barreled into Paul’s leg, clutching onto him tight. She peered up at him with her big brown eyes and he suddenly felt more at ease. </p><p>“Glad you’re okay,” she smiled, before breaking free. </p><p>“Thanks, Hannah,” he smiled, stepping unsteadily into the room, nodding in thanks at Lex, Ethan and Rodney. Before he could take another step into the room however, a bright and happy voice caught his attention. </p><p>“<em> Uncle Paul!”  </em></p><p>His attention snapped to a small blur tearing across the room and towards him. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the form of his favorite nephew, and he felt tears of relief forming in his eyes. Before he knew what happened, Tim barreled into him, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly. </p><p>“T-Tim?” he whispered, returning the hug and running a hand through the boy’s messy hair. Relief at seeing the boy alive filled him as he hugged the boy tight, “Y-You're okay…” </p><p>The boy looked up at him and nodded, “Mm-hmm! We all are!”</p><p>He pointed across the room to where John and Xander waved happily at him. Paul was shocked by how gaunt they all looked, how thin and overworked. Though the spark of determination had never left their eyes, he was certain that they were all underfed. Now that he thought about it, Tim looked thin and exhausted too, even if his energy was still bursting in his every movement. He smiled wide at them, unbelieving that it was truly them he was looking at. The relief flowed over him in a wave after wave of emotion that bundled up in the base of his throat and he couldn’t believe that he was experiencing it. </p><p>“Paul,” John called, smiling sadly at him from where he sat, “Wonderful to see you alive, my friend!” </p><p>“John…” Paul breathed, unsure of what to say. Seeing John, Xander, and Tim alive after so long was something he didn’t know how to comprehend. “Xander...you...I…” </p><p>Still hugging Tim, he moved as if he were on autopilot towards them, the two men standing up to meet him. Before he could do anything, John and Xander both joined Tim in the hug, breaking free a lot quicker. </p><p>John smiled wide and clapped him on the back, removing his hand once he saw Paul wince at the contact, “You truly are a sight for sore eyes, my boy, especially in this case.” </p><p>Xander nodded, “We didn’t know whether or not you were alive...and we worried, but holy shit, man, is it wonderful to see you…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Paul breathed, “Y-you have no idea how amazing it is to see you guys right now…”</p><p>He glanced down at Tim and saw the scar covering his left eye. He bit back the wave of anger directed at Schaeffer for removing Dr. Hallmark from the tunnel mouth where Tim could have gotten better help for his eye sooner. Maybe they would have been able to get to him faster and he wouldn’t have so big of a scar. He hugged Tim tighter, “I’m so...I’m so sorry..”</p><p>“Hey,” Tim chirped, “You don’t have anything to be sorry about...we’re all okay.” </p><p>“The boy’s right, Paul,” Xander smiled, “You did all you could, and we did all we could...and nothing could change that, the fact is we’re all on base…” </p><p>Paul froze and looked down for a moment, the guilt from the past few months filling him. Tim took his hand and squeezed it gently, “It’s okay, Uncle Paul…” </p><p>He thought back to every conversation he’d had with Emma since he’d found out that she was alive. Somehow she’d always managed to avoid talking about the state of things while they’d been in there, only mentioning their livelihood. The cheerfulness that Tim brought to their captivity. The strength and determination brought by Xander and John. Not once had she said something that would bring him more worry than he already had. He didn’t know whether or not he should feel more worried now that he saw them. </p><p>God, where was Emma?</p><p>Through blurry tearful vision he searched the room, unable to see where Emma was. </p><p>As if reading his expression, John set a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently, “It’s okay,  Paul, go to her…” He nodded his head in the direction behind Paul and he turned, stifling a gasp.</p><p>He didn’t know how he’d passed by her earlier without realizing, but suddenly, there she was.  He couldn’t see too much from his blurred vision, but he could tell that it was her. No doubt about it. </p><p>She was laying flat on her back in one of the uncomfortable-looking hospital beds, a scratchy-looking green blanket covering her up to her shoulders, her head nestled into a fluffy white pillow and something on her face that made it hard to see much else, but he knew it was her. God, with every beat of his heart, he knew it was her. </p><p>He stumbled, as if on auto-pilot, towards her, bracing his hands on the railing of the other beds as he did. As he got closer, he realized that Tom was slumped over in a chair next to her, snoring softly, as if he was watching over his sister-in-law. Paul didn’t plan to disturb him originally, but once he tripped over a small piece of equipment, thankfully not breaking anything, Tom was snapped out of his slumber.  </p><p>His eyes widened once they settled on Paul, “Hey...you made it…”</p><p>Paul nodded, unable to take his eyes off of Emma, almost not believing that it was her he was looking at. </p><p>Tom smiled softly and stood from his chair, “You can sit down next to her, man...it’s okay…”</p><p>Paul didn’t answer as he studied Emma, his heart pounding obnoxiously in his ears as he fought against the tears that were welling in his eyes. Part of him, for a moment, wondered if he was dead or if this was just a dream...but it wasn’t the beating of his heart and hers, as shown by a nearby EKG, told him that they were both very much alive.  </p><p>He stumbled into the chair, gingerly looking over her as tears poured silently down his cheek. </p><p>Her skin was pale, as if she were ill, and her eyes were squeezed shut in what looked like a fitful sleep. Underneath her closed eyes there were dark sunken shadows, which made her look almost skeletal, like she hadn’t been eating enough since she’d been trapped in Hidgens basement. There was an oxygen tube running into her nostrils, and her chest slowly rose and fell in a satisfying rhythm. Most shocking to him however, was the fact that where her left leg should have been, the blanket was unusually flat, and something told him that it had nothing to do with her leg being bent in an odd way. </p><p>Despite all of this, however, she was still the most goddamned beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. </p><p>And she was alive.</p><p>That was all that mattered. </p><p>Without thinking, he gently moved his hand under the blanket to find hers, finding the cold limb with little trouble. God, why was her hand so cold? Gently, he pulled it out from underneath the blanket, crying softly at the feeling of her hand in his once more. Using both hands, he held hers, pressing light kisses to it, the softness of her skin making him relish her memory. He gently ran his fingers over her own, trying to warm them, since her hand might as well have been carved from ice.</p><p>“We’ll give you some privacy,” Tom whispered, “She’s been in and out of consciousness, since we’ve been here, Becky had to sedate her a little while back, so she might be a little bit out of it…”</p><p>Paul looked up at the man and nodded in thanks. He could think of no words right now to describe his joy, and relief at seeing her, though he felt some sorrow at her suffering. Still, she was home and alive. Though, he’d ask about her condition later. He wanted to do all he could to get her well again. But just for this moment he wanted to hold her hand in his. </p><p>He scooted the chair closer, so his knees were hitting the bed, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to be closer to her, tears falling down his face faster now as he studied her. </p><p>Gingerly, he used one of his hands to gently move away a stray messy curl out of her face, gently pushing it aside and relishing the feeling of her dark curls on his fingers. God, he’d missed her. </p><p>He was crying harder now, holding her still-cold palm to his face and kissing it gently.</p><p>“Hi, Emma…” he whispered, tears weighing his voice down to the point he wasn’t sure he’d made a noise at all. He didn’t care. She was right there in front of him, and he wasn’t going to  leave her again. He couldn’t think of anything else to say and just held her hand as gently, but as firmly as he could. </p><p>Just weeks before, he’d been so sure she was dead. So sure that the only time he’d see the love of his life would be in his dreams or painful memories. But he’d been wrong, and here she was. </p><p>“Hey, Paul,” a familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Becky Barnes. In her hands, she held a small grey blanket, “It’s kinda cold in here, and you’re shaking a lot...figured you might need this…”</p><p>He glanced down at his hand and saw that she was right. He didn’t <em> feel </em>cold, but his hands and legs wouldn’t stop quaking, so he happily accepted the blanket, only looking away from Emma for a split second, “Thanks, Becky…” </p><p>Becky smiled, “It must be nice to see her...huh?” </p><p>“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling sadly at Emma’s resting face, “Wish it could have been...different…”</p><p>Becky raised an eyebrow, “Different, how?” </p><p>“That day,” he explained, “I wish she wouldn’t have had to have been trapped there...and…” </p><p>He glanced down at her leg, suppressing as much guilt as he could. He knew that the real fault lay with Schaeffer, but the fact remained that he wished he could have changed what he’d done that day, maybe ensured they had a better, faster way to get back home. Maybe he would have had the sense to send out a different vehicle so they didn’t have to go through Hidgens’ home to get back. He still felt like he didn’t do enough to get them back sooner. </p><p>Becky’s face softened, “Hey, you did everything you could...what’s done is done. Nothing you can do will change that…”</p><p>“I know,” Paul nodded, wiping at his tears with one of his hands, “I just hate to see her...in pain...y’know…”</p><p>Becky nodded, “I get it...but you’ll be happy to know that when she woke up she was the same ol’ Emma…”</p><p>He smiled softly as she went on in a hushed tone, “We told her what Schaeffer had done and she almost hopped out of bed by herself on one leg, and you would have thought she was going to kill the woman before we could stop her…I sedated her before she could hurt herself anymore than she already is, but <em> damn </em>she was pissed.”</p><p>“I’d imagine,” he laughed tearfully. It gave him some relief to know that she was still very much his spitfire Emma. Of course, there would be trauma for both of them, but he was more than willing to walk the path with it. </p><p>Becky nodded and smiled, passing him the blanket, “I’ll leave you alone with her, then…” </p><p>“Thank you, Becky,” he murmured, tearing his eyes away from Emma to look at the nurse in gratitude, “Really...for everything…” </p><p>Becky smiled, “It’s nothing.”</p><p>With that, he turned back to look at Emma, wiping at the tears as he held her hand. He’d stay there for as long as she needed. He silently resolved to not leave the chair he was sitting in until she woke up, and he would make no move to disturb the sleep that the circles under her eyes told him she needed. </p><p>He had so many things he wanted to say to her, wanting to make up for every second he didn’t get to tell her he loved her, every morning he didn’t wake up and see her, every ounce of comfort he couldn’t give her when she felt alone, every apology he owed her. He felt like he was finally being given the chance to do so. </p><p>He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. As he watched vigilantly, he remembered what she had said once he’d been freed from the Black and White and cured of his almost-infection. </p><p>“<em> I’m afraid that if I look away for even a second,” she mumbled, “That you’ll disappear…” </em></p><p>He now understood what she’d meant in every painful detail. </p><p>He’d not been there for half an hour, when her eyes began to squeeze shut tighter, and her eyebrows furrowed. </p><p>He felt his heart skip a beat as she muttered something under her breath, something he couldn’t hear through her exhaustion and sleep-heavy voice. God, he forgot how much he loved the sound of her tired voice, remembering almost every exhausted morning before all hell broke loose when she would refuse to wake up for her morning shift at Beanies. </p><p>He held her hand slightly tighter, leaning closer as she continued to shift and mutter, murmuring something that sounded vaguely like ‘Jane’ under her breath. </p><p>He could barely compel himself to breathe, all of his attention on her as he debated whether or not he should call Becky, or see if one of the Doctors was available to help if it was needed. He just wanted her to be okay. </p><p>His voice couldn’t have been above a whisper, as he dared to speak as he held her hand tighter.</p><p>“Emma?” </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> She opened her eyes and found herself in a somewhat familiar house, wearing a familiar white lace dress with a sage green sash.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through the windows of the house, she could see that same field in which she and Paul had encountered one another more than once before realizing that it was truly one another that they were talking to. The shades of poppy red, cornflower blue and violet, as well as the tawny gold of the tall grass was exactly as she remembered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her bare feet were cool against the hardwood floor of the house, and the picture frames that had once lined the walls were now void of any pictures she could see.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This had been the house where she’d seen Jane, wasn’t it?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was she doing here? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before she could do anything or explore the eerily abandoned house, a cry broke through the air, echoing through the strangely deserted hallways and making her heart suddenly feel like it was going to burst. She didn’t know what she was doing when she decided that she should go out and search for the source.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The house, besides lacking in the pictures and decorations that had once been there, was almost exactly as she remembered it, with its rustic farmhouse charm that she was certain Jane would have loved and picked out for herself when she designed her dream home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still, that didn’t explain the absence of the pictures.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook the oddness of the situation away and focused on finding the source of the crying. It couldn't have been coming from a child over the age of one year, and the cries sounded desperate.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?” she called out, hoping that Jane might be there, or even the Hidgens she’d met in this strange dream-world of hers, “Is anyone there?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was no response, making a chill run up her spine.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stumbled her way into the hallway, her eyes searching for the source of the noise. The cries grew louder and louder as she searched. Her eyes fell on one of three doors and was struck with a sense of familiarity. The last time she’d been in this house, she’d heard singing coming from the second one, right?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slowly, she approached the room, and pushed open the door to reveal a room painted a light shade of grey. As the door was opened completely, the cry had risen in volume and she rushed into the room to see a simple white crib against the wall.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She slowly approached the crib and peered inside to see a tiny wailing baby. The sight of the small child made her heart melt. The tiny face was red and the eyes squeezed shut as the tiny hands were thrown about in red wrinkled fists. Though the baby was nestled into a small mound of grey blankets, Emma could see tufts of dark hair.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her heart sank deely when she realized who this must be… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This had to be Tim, right? She’d never seen him as a baby… this was her punishment for missing out on all of his youth...not being there for Jane when he was born.    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey,” she whispered, reaching gingerly into the crib to lift the tiny squirming being out of the crib. She didn’t know what had compelled her to lift the tiny thing out of the crib, but it fit so well in her arms. As she held the little thing closer, staring down at the squirming human, she found her heart melting even more, and the small wails subsided.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shh,” she whispered to the little person, “Shh...it’s okay…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She gently used a finger to gently stroke over the baby’s tiny head, revelling in the softness of the baby’s hair, and the little thing yawned, it’s mouth stretching and making Emma’s heart melt even more. She smiled down at the tiny thing, watching as it settled down snuggling into the crook of her arm comfortably.  Emma had never had an affinity for babies, at least, not when everyone was trying to convince her to like them in her youth, but something about this baby was different...something about holding this little one felt...natural.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  She supposed if it was Tim, it was supposed to be this way...which made the guilt that she wasn’t there for his life as an infant and toddler all the more worse. Still, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the little thing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After a while, the little baby’s eyes opened and Emma found herself gasping.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They were a bright shade of blue.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Beautiful, soft, gentle blue…. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But...Tim’s eyes were brown...so who… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You weren’t supposed to see that yet, Emma.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Emma turned around to see Jane leaning against the doorframe, a fond smile on her face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma glanced back down at the baby to find that it was gone. She glanced around the room, frantically searching for the small bundle that had been in her arms mere seconds ago.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane?” she whispered, her eyes wide as shock overcame her, “What...who…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That doesn’t matter right now, Emma,” another voice joined them and Emma watched as Hidgens joined Jane in the doorframe.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s really a stroke of luck that Becky put you under when she did,” Jane said, smiling as she walked closer to Emma, making her feel slightly frightened,  “We tried to find you when you were unconscious, but we couldn’t find your dream...your mind was everywhere and nowhere…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We couldn’t find you,” Hidgens nodded, “But we have this chance now...we must warn you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Warn me of what?” Emma asked, fear alone at seeing the two again gripping her heart, the shock of even holding a baby that had mysteriously disappeared, “We already know about Schae-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Schaeffer may be your biggest danger at the moment, Emmie,” Jane said, her face growing grave, “But she’s not going to be your worst enemy…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s that supposed to mean?!” Emma asked, growing tired of their cryptic sayings and lack of an ability to communicate, “I mean, she’s trying to kill us...and Paul-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul will be out of danger soon enough, my dear,” Hidgens whispered, his face grave, “But it won’t last long…Someone on your base has come into possession of something very dangerous and very powerful. When Schaeffer is vanquished, and she will be, it will be time for the box to come into play, and that…” he shuddered, “That will cause another stage in the game that there’s no stopping at all…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What the hell does that mean?”she demanded impatiently, “You know, I’m really getting fed up with-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emmie,” Jane said calmly, “We don’t have a whole lot of time, so you must listen...please…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma swallowed hard and stared down at the floor, suddenly feeling very much like the ten-year-old girl that she once was, being talked down to by absolutely everyone she knew.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens sighed deeply and began to pace around the room, “The Spider has a plan, Emma, and the vultures are circling...she knows all and sees all...nowhere is safe for you, Paul, anybody with you or anybody who wi-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At Jane’s sharp look he trailed off. Shuffling uncomfortably he went on, “The point is, she has eyes everywhere, more powerful than the sight of even her brother, Bliklotep...nothing you can prevent her from knowing...which is why the game is very much in her control. Nothing you can do will change that.” </em>
</p><p> <em> “Pessimism is the last thing she needs right now, Henry,” Jane sighed, “Emma, listen to me, you are going to have many storms coming your way, but it is important that you find Henry…” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Hidgens?!” Emma asked, her confusion knowing no bound, “I can’t find him anywhere, Jane, you’re both dead...you’re just in my head…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, but this isn’t just your head, is it, Emma?” Jane said calmly, “What about all the shared dreams with Paul?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma froze. Truthfully, she’d never thought about that… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well...I mean,” she stammered, “Paul’s ability...shouldn’t that have…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Reading her expression, Hidgens nodded, “You see, Emma, this isn’t your head...this isn’t even your dream...what you are in is called a daydream...a place that borders  on what’s called...Nightmare Time…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At the mention of the name it was like a chill settled over the room.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma looked at Jane incredulously. Surely, this had to be a joke. Surely, this was just some figment of her mind under the influence of whatever painkillers  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Emma,” Jane murmured, “I know how stupid it sound...but just think, how did you sruvive the cave-in? Or even before then? When you flatlined before Lex was able to save Paul and the others?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-” Emma started, unsure of how to answer, looking down at the two legs she had in the dream that weren’t going to exist ever again in her real life, “I’m...just lucky...I guess…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The answer, Emma,” Hidgens spoke, snapping her attention to his place by an abandoned rocking-chair in the corner, “Is that you didn’t. Both times you were actually dead...Now, the first time, you were brought back before a reset could begin, but the second time...the rules were changed before you died, so you would have been dead before…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then enlighten me!” she snapped, “Because I’m tired of not being in the know...How did I survive” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The same way you created this daydream,” Hidgens answered cooly, “You were about to be bound to the Black and White, since the rules were changed by the spider... so, your bond was able to manifest this pocket, which allowed for my soul to slip in…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My what?” Emma was incredulous, unable to keep up with the ghosts (spirits? Memories? Honestly, Emma didn’t know) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your bond with Paul, Emma,” Jane smiled, “Your bond with him has been in existence in every single reset...it was what was able to restore the memory of them to the world...you have to know how powerful a bond like that is…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Um…” Emma was truthfully dumbfounded.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens rolled his eyes, “Emma, you and Paul created this little pocket without even realizing it. You died, but because you and Paul defied the laws of the Black and White of this reality, your bond created a safe pocket outside of Nightmare Time, where your soul roamed as Paul pulled you back...just like that. You wouldn’t remember it, but it was like your soul was here for months before he got you back. In the real world, you were probably dead only for a minute.” he chuckled, “Honestly, it’s remarkable…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma didn’t know what to say. Her heart skipped a beat as she contemplated the weight of the words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was a normal person. Paul, despite having some strange ability that neither of them really understood, was the most normal person they’d had. Loving him had been something that had taken a long time for her to admit to herself, but it was one of the best things she’d ever found herself doing. He somehow managed to balance out her spunky nature beautifully with his gentleness. Though they were both so flawed, loving him had just...felt right. Even when she didn’t know she loved him, or didn’t even want to love him, she’d been drawn in by the way he made her feel like she was a person, not like she was less than anybody. She wasn’t a worthless child who would never amount to anything her sister had been. She wasn’t a pointless layabout who wasted countless years of her life in South America. She wasn’t a barista who would remain at a dead-end job for the rest of her life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To him she was Emma. To him she was beautiful, smart, spunky, and her own person. He respected her hopes and dreams, and made her feel like every breath she took was worth celebrating. Even on days when neither of them could agree, she still felt as though she shared something with him that nobody else could explain.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Loving him had been the best part of her life. From the moment she’d met him, for whatever reason, she felt like she’d finally started living. Every tip. Every smile. Every ‘Good morning, one black coffee, please’. Even before they started ‘being intimate’ and dating, she’d just felt energized by how kind and patient he was, even on days when yelling at one crabby barista might have been warranted. She might have taken forever to learn his name, but their souls had known one another without either of them knowing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  The idea that the love she had for him was able to do...all of this...the fact that they’d both held onto one another so strongly, that he’d brought her back not just once, but twice… and she’d saved him too, on several occasions.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you going to explain to her what Nightmare Time is?” Jane groaned, “As much as I love gushing about my sister’s love life, we have more pressing matters to deal with…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ah, yes, Jane,” Hidgens exclaimed with much gusto, “Nightmare Time is a dimension outside of even the Black and White...they used to say ‘it’s all in your mind’, didn’t they Jane?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma turned to see that her sister had gone pale as she nodded.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s like a forest,” Jane whispered, “But it shows you the worst of your fears in ways that can get you killed...you don’t realize it’s not real...but several of PEIP’s soldiers have died before anybody’s known what it is…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Symptoms include-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We don’t have time for that, Henry,” Jane sighed before turning to Emma and smiling slightly, “Emma...it’s very important that you remember this...because the box is only the beginning...something far worse is coming for all of you, and you must be ready...okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma couldn’t even manage a nod, this was all too much.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane…” she whispered, before she was cut off by a sound that rippled outside and caught her attention.  </em>
</p><p>“Emma?”</p><p>
  <em> Though the voice sounded like it was under water,  the voice was unmistakable.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was there. He was waiting for her! He was safe! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Behind her Hidgens sighed, “It’s time, Jane.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” Emma whirled around, “But you haven’t ex-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” Jane sighed, “He’s right…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But, Jane,” Emma stumbled forward, “None of this makes sense...what do you mean…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before she could finish her sentence, she felt a sharp pain in her legs, she glanced down and found herself glued to her spot. Even more shockingly, the white lace of her dress was disintegrating. Panic clenched at her heart but before she could scream, Jane comfortingly took her hands in her own. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re waking up, Emma” Jane said calmly, “It’s okay...just remember what we told you…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But what if I don’t?!” Emma cried in a panic, “What if I fuck it up, Janey?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You won’t,” Jane smiled, “I love you, Emmie, and I need you to know how proud I am of you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma glanced down and saw that she had disintegrated up to her waist, she ignored the slight pain and focused on her sister’s face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I miss you so much, Jane…” Emma whispered, tears filling her eyes as she desperately tried to hold on to the vision of her sister. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I miss you too, Emma,” Jane whispered, smiling gently, “Take care of Tom and Tim for me, okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I will,” Emma nodded, losing feeling of her lower body entirely, “I will, Jane...I promise…” </em>
</p><p><em> “Now, relax, Emmie,” Jane soothed, “He’s waiting for you, just close your eyes...and </em> wake up <em> …” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Nhh…” she groaned and squeezed her eyes shut as consciousness came over her. The throbbing pain of her leg hitting her full throttle. She murmured a few curses and coughed a few times as air came rushing into her lungs. She could feel the uncomfortable sensation of something going somewhat deep into her nose, and she breathed deeply trying to adjust, shifting uncomfortably on the same bed. </p><p>Damn, whatever Becky had done to her had done a number on her. </p><p>She was so focused on the pain in her leg, and the rippling waves of slight nausea throughout her body, she almost didn’t notice the hand holding hers. The feeling of the gentle and warm hand holding her admittedly freezing ones, comforting her before she could even open her eyes.</p><p>“...Em-Emma?”</p><p>The sound of her name was whispered, but she heard it all the same. She heard his voice. <em> His voice. </em></p><p>She forced her eyes open and was met by blurs of light and color that made her squint and fall back against the pillows with a slight hiss.The grip on her hand tightened gently and she felt the familiar feeling of soft and gentle fingers running tenderly over her knuckles.</p><p>When she opened her eyes again, her vision was slightly blurred, and it looked as if she was staring up at a ceiling. Though the light was dim and her muscles ached, she searched for his voice. </p><p>Was it possible that she’d just imagined it? Tom had said that he’d been taken by Schaeffer, so perhaps it was all just a-</p><p>She moved her head to the side, and even though the world around her was a blur of color and sound, she could see him, and she could have sworn that her heart stopped at the sight.</p><p>He was staring back at her, his blue eyes filled with tears and impossibly wide, holding her hand close to his face, and her cold hand suddenly felt so warm.</p><p>For a moment they just stared. The shock of seeing one another not quite sinking in.</p><p>She felt tears fill her eyes as she studied him. </p><p>True to Tom’s word, his face was littered with bruises and cuts that looked like someone had truly beaten the shit out of him. As she stared into the pair of wide blue eyes that peered back at her, her vision blurred. Everything was still the same, in spite of how much pain he was in. His soft features and warm eyes peered down at her, tears filling his eyes. </p><p>“P-Paul?” she whispered, her lips trembling as the words left her lips. </p><p>Paul’s eyes widened as tears dripped down his cheeks, “H-hi…” he whispered, holding her hand tighter. </p><p>Emma took in a shaky breath as her mind raced. A shaky sob left her as she stared at him, tightening her grip on his hand in a small squeeze. </p><p>“It’s you,” she whispered, “It’s you…”</p><p>“It’s me,” he nodded, a sob leaving him as a smile crossed his face, “I’m here...you’re home…” </p><p>He leaned in and pressed kiss to her temple, his tears sliding from his face and onto hers. She let out another sob as she revelled in the feeling of his soft lips on her forehead, just breathing him in in deep breaths. Before he could pull away, she tugged on his hand, pulling him to sit on the  edge of the bed, and holding his hand tighter, just wanting to be close to him. He still leaned close to her, holding her hand to his face as they both cried.</p><p>One of his free arms went behind her and pulled her close to him, cradling her close, his forehead resting against hers. As they both cried, she just breathed him in, wrapping her arms around him, her shaky arms holding his warmth close. </p><p>Her mind was a giddy mess as she held him tighter, sobbing into his shoulder as he wrapped her into his warm arms. Though her hands were uncomfortable with the IV’s that were placed in them, she didn’t stop herself from holding him closer, his warmth filling her with a love and joy that she’d been wanting forever. She ran her hands through his hair as she sobbed into his shoulder, feeling him shaking against her as well as he buried his own face in her neck. </p><p>For a moment all the pain disappeared. It was just him and her, wrapped up in one another and releasing all the guilt and waiting and wanting that had been burning them from the inside out as they just held one another. </p><p>“It’s okay,” he cried into her shoulder, “I’ve got you….I’m here…”</p><p>“God, Paul,” she whispered, pulling back and cupping his face with her hands, just so she could stare at him. </p><p>As they stared at one another, they both found themselves chuckling tearfully, his arms still holding her up in a sitting position. He sighed in disbelief, “I don’t believe it…I thought you were-”</p><p>“I almost was,” she whispered, “But that doesn’t matter...I’m here now…”</p><p>More tears slipped down his cheeks as he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes staring into her own. God, she had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. As she stared into them a form of calmness overcame her, and she just closed her eyes, revelling in being with him once more. </p><p>“God, Em,” he breathed, a small smile coming over his face, he pressed a kiss to her forehead gently, “I missed you, s-so much…”</p><p>She nodded, a tearful laugh leaving her, “I missed you too…”</p><p>Before she could think of anything else to say, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, stretching herself in his arms to reach as her muscles protested. Instead of heeding what her body was complaining about, she just wrapped her arms around him tighter and listened to the thrumming of his pulse in his neck. He was alive...he was here. He wasn’t some illusion conjured up by her mind. He was really here, and he was holding her. </p><p>“I love you so much, Em,” he whispered, pulling back and pressing a long and gentle kiss to her forehead, “God, I never say it enough…”</p><p>“I love you too,” she smiled and pulled back, pressing a reciprocating kiss on his cheek, “My big stupid nerd…” </p><p>She stared into his eyes again, wanting to commit every detail of his face to memory. SHe wanted nothing more than to remember the joy and warmth she felt in this moment.  Her eyebrows furrowed as she caught sight of the painful-looking bruises marking his face. She gently ran her fingers over them, trying hard to remain gentle and not cause him any more pain. A small flare of anger burned in her stomach as she stared at him, “Why would she do this to you…” she whispered to herself. </p><p>Paul shook his head, “It doesn’t matter…”</p><p>“But it does,” she insisted, pressing her head to his chest as he held her close, “She hurt you…”</p><p>“Not right now, Emma,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair, “You’re home...that’s what matters most…”</p><p>She hummed in response as he began to rub his hand gently up and down her back. His breaths were shaky and discoordinated as tears still fell from both of their eyes. </p><p>She glanced up at him, studying the face of the man she loved more than anything else in the world. They’d both seen so much pain in the past few months. Their separation and suffering taking its toll. Neither of them had known if the other was truly alive over the course of time. They’d both had to carry on in their own ways, hoping that perhaps one day life would be kind to them with no promises that they’d ever wake up to find the other waiting for them. </p><p>She’d wanted him to be with her for so long, and now, here he was. </p><p>This beautiful, stupid, wonderful nerd who made her heart sing unlike anything before. </p><p>This person she wanted to spend her life with. </p><p>This person who’d spent so long fighting so that he might be with her again. </p><p>They’d both felt useless on their own sides of the wall, not able to do much else other than damage control. But that didn’t mean that their fight to be together was nonexistent. They’d both put up a fight in different ways so that they might have this moment. This <em> beautiful </em>moment when all of the pain seemed to seep away. </p><p>Just for this moment, they could forget about the storm that raged on outside. Because they were together again, and that was all they needed.  </p><p>After an extremely long time of just staring at one another, <em> just being together, </em>she saw his eyes trail down to her lips and she understood, having wanted it too for so long. </p><p>Their lips met gently and slowly, all of the pain and feeling that had bottled itself up over the past couple of months manifesting through the small gesture of love that they’d both needed for so long. </p><p>Tears continued to pour down their faces as her hands came up to cup his. Her mind and heart soared as she was reminded of how amazing it felt to be with him. </p><p>They broke away only to breathe, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks as they just remained their, faces close together, breathing one another in, in deep gulps. </p><p>He gently pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, pushing it behind her ear and using one of his hands to wipe away her tears gently. It was  a small, tender action, and yet it made her want to cry some more. </p><p>She’d missed him. </p><p>No words would ever be able to describe how much she had wanted this. Had longed for him. Had missed every second of every day when she couldn’t see him, or at the very least hear him say something stupid. She even missed some of his habits she found somewhat annoying (and yet, very endearing), like re-organizing the cabinets, or alphabetizing his DVD collection from when he was in college that he’d probably already alphabetized. </p><p>But that was one of the wonderful things that had made him...well, <em> him.  </em></p><p>And she loved him for it. </p><p>She tugged on him again, scooting slightly to the side and ignoring the pain in her leg as she did so, pulling him down to stay there with her. </p><p>Silently understanding, he wrapped his arms around her, snuggling close to her and sighing contentedly as they both got settled, one of his hands resting on her cheek as the other remained wrapped around her. </p><p>For a moment, they just sat there, staring at one another, taking in every single detail for what it was. </p><p>She’d missed this incredibly. </p><p>Just the contentment of just laying here with him, knowing that she was loved. Knowing that with him, she felt like she could do anything. </p><p>She ran her hand through his soft hair and he laughed, making her grin. She’d missed that. The softness of his hair, the way he loved having her run her hands through it. She’d missed his cowlick in the morning, or even waking up to his soft snoring in the middle of the night. She’d missed the softness of his skin, and the brightness of his eyes. She’d missed the way he talked, and the indignant look in his eyes when he’d talk about how something annoyed him, like the greenpeace worker down the street from Beanies. She’d missed the way he’d smile when she’d walk into the room, and the dreamy look in his eyes he’d get when she’d be venting about something she’d most likely forget about within the next hour.  She missed how awkward he was when they’d go places, and the way he was always so particular about his routine. She missed how excited he would get when talking about one of his favorite movies, and the way he would defend his opinions about them when she’d try and get under his skin. </p><p>She’d just missed <em> him </em>. </p><p>She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips again, his eyes widening and his grip on her tightening gently as he pulled her closer to him.</p><p>“I love you,” she whispered, smiling softly at him. </p><p>He smiled back, “I love you too, Emma…”</p><p>She chuckled lightly, wiping at the tear that was building in the corner of her eyes, “Forever and always, yeah?” </p><p>He sniffed, as if his breath had left his chest at her words, and nodded, a shaky sob leaving him “Forever and always…”</p><p>She rested her forehead against his, angling herself oddly so she wouldn’t bring more pain to her residual limb, and as if on instinct, he adjusted himself accordingly, his arms not leaving the position where they were wrapped warmly around her. She never wanted this moment to end, in spite of the reality of it. For a moment, they just stayed there, occasionally exchanging soft kisses or pressing a loving kiss to one another’s cheek, forehead or nose, almost re-memorizing one another’s faces after months of being apart. In spite of the danger she knew they were in, this moment gave her more peace. Although she vowed to make Schaeffer pay for all the pain she had caused him, this moment made her rage fade away. </p><p>Until the moment ended. </p><p>Rodney paced over to them, dressed like Ethan, his eyes wide. </p><p>Paul nodded at him, his eyes widening in concern, “What’s wrong?” </p><p>Her heart picked up speed as Rodney spoke, “We need to move, Schaeffer or her men could be here at any moment, I’m sorry to break this up, but we’ve gotta get you guys to safety.”</p><p>“Get us to safety?” she turned to Paul, “What’s happening?” </p><p>“It’s okay, Emma,” Paul nodded at her, his eyes suddenly filled with a slight anxiety that made her heart feel like a kickdrum in her chest, “We’re just going to be moved...somewhere where-”</p><p>He was cut off by a loud slam of the door, making everyone in the room jump as the doors were flung open. Instinctually, she pulled closer to Paul, holding him close as fear suddenly made him shake against her. </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye she could see John and Xander stand alert, Lex and Hannah pulling behind Ethan, who was dressed like Rodney for some reason, Tom pulling Tim and Becky behind him as the doors were blown open wide, and June Schaeffer strode through</p><p>Rage filled Emma’s veins as the woman regarded the people in the room, her eyes filling with an unreadable emotion as her eyes settled on Paul and Emma, unholstering a gun from her side. She stifled a scream as her eyes fell on the weapon and pulled Paul closer to her, wanting to protect him from any pain that the woman was prepared to cause.</p><p>“Agent Rodney,” she spoke cooly, “You disobeyed my orders…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG!! </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay...so if I didn’t make this a two-parter, we might have been looking at a 20k + chapter, and I don’t want to make you guys deal with that...<br/>So, sorry to end on that note...</p><p>Wonder what Jane and Hidgens meant though...</p><p>In the meantime...✨❤️✨💕Paulkins💕✨❤️✨</p><p>Sure hope this reunion wasn’t all for not...</p><p>(Also, shoutout @teknical_difficulties/piece_of_caek (I think that’s their new URL. If not, I’m so sorry!!), for writing those freaking FANTASTIC Soft Paulkins HC’s, I’ve been reading those and just have been like “Hmmm, yes...write that down!!!”, which helped me come up with a whole lot of Paulkins fluff ideas, should I decide to let them be happy)</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like!!! I’m so sorry for this chapter being as long as it was, but I hope you enjoyed it!!! I really appreciate you guys putting up with my really long chapters!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!</p><p>I hope you liked this first chapter of 2021, and I’m really excited to see where we’re gonna go from here, since Jane and Hidgens hinted at a whole lot...</p><p>Once again, thank you for being awesome!!! I hope you have a fantastic day and stay healthy!!!</p><p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. It Took the Death of Hope to Let You Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part two of the last cliff-hanger!!!</p>
<p>This kinda overlaps where Emma and Paul were reuniting, but it’s from Johns perspective, just FYI...Hope you enjoy!!!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this is from ‘Snuff’ by Slipknot.</p>
<p>This one is a lot shorter than what I normally post, life is just kinda crazy rn, but I hope you like it!!!</p>
<p>!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!: Schaeffer, Blood, Guns, a certain spider, bastard goat</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: December 18th, 2018</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>John smiled as he watched across the room, where Paul and Emma were having their quiet and sweet reunion, watching as the two cycled between crying, whispering, and embracing, making his heart soar as he saw how gentle and tender they were with one another. He could tell just from the look in Emma’s eyes how long she’d wished for this moment. How long she’d wanted to see Paul again, and there they were...a little broken and battered, but they were together at least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed happily and leaned into Xander as they sat there, waiting for Rodney to give them the go-ahead for their escape plan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good to see them together again,” He whispered, making his husband smile as they watched the couple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…” Xander whispered, “This is the first time I’ve seen her </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>smile, in a long time.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul looks a little worse for wear, though,” John muttered, his voice falling slightly as he caught sight of the bruises and cuts that marked Paul’s face when the man turned his face just enough. The one on his cheek would likely need a few stitches with as deep as it looked.  His face fell as anger filled his veins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>June had done that to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>June was responsible for all of this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was the reason why they spent so much time in the dark and cold, working so hard and living off of foolish hopes that they would be back one day. He could only look at their whole friendship and wonder how much of it had been lies. He, Xander, and June had been the ones to watch over the young Tom Houston when he’d been new to PEIP. They’d all hung out and been the people to plan for the future, talking about loyalty and truth and the strength of the human heart. They all had shared some of the same morals and gone through the same hardships in the early days of PEIP. They’d formed a siblinghood (as they had called it, since June said brotherhood was discriminatory) and they’d worked hard to earn their ranks in PEIP. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had all been a lie…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of their pain and suffering…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the headaches…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the stress and fear…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every night he spent worrying that Tim’s eye was gonna get worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every night he worried that Xander was gonna pass out from exhaustion in the tunnel.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every night he hoped with all of his might that he wouldn’t wake up to find Emma dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d sacrificed so much keeping them alive...all of them had, all because June Schaeffer had become a greedy version of the woman that he once had been friends with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Xander nudged him, “What’re you thinking about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“June…” John sighed, anger filling his veins at the mention of the name, “The fact that she’s responsible for all of this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced back over at Paul and Emma, the two of them holding one another gently and tightly. They’d been separated for so long...for almost four months...Emma had been nearly killed and Tim had been separated from his father for too long. Paul had been beaten and manipulated while Lex, Ethan, and Hannah were living in fear for their lives because of it. He didn’t even want to ask about the things that Tom and Becky had seen while they’d been working for her...he didn’t even want to ask Rodney what he’d done. He could tell just from Rodney’s face when Schaeffer’s name was mentioned that he’d been made to do things that he didn’t want to do. He didn’t know  a single thing about what Schaeffer was doing, but he knew that he would undo it all. He would make things as right as he could. He would undo the damage that Schaeffer had done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander looked over to where Rodney was dragging in a wheelchair, presumably for Emma, so that they could secure transport to the lower shafts where they'd be able to hide out until they developed a plan of attack to deal with Schaeffer, even though the idea of going against someone he'd considered a close friend was nauseating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to do about June?” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed, “I don't know...I mean, it’s hard to believe that she's done all of…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, ” Xander whispered, “I didn't want to believe Becky when she told us….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” John said, his voice barely even a whisper, “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted </span>
  </em>
  <span>her, Xander…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then she just...tries to murder us? Murdering two civilians in the process and for what?” John shook his head, “That doesn’t sound like the June Schaeffer we both know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander humed slightly, “Maybe the June Schaeffer we thought we </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>is gone...maybe the one Rodney, Paul, Tom, and Becky know has replaced her…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John turned to his husband, “Part of me wants to believe that this is a Hidgens case, that she was corrupted by something like the Black and White...but I can just tell that ain’t the case...as rough as it-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was cut off by Rodney walking towards him. His eyes wide, as if he were preparing for the mission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir,” he whispered in greeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it that time?” John asked, trying to ignore the shakiness of Rodney’s voice. The man was younger than most of their prolific agents at his level. He could tell just from the urgency in the man’s stance that he was determined not to be caught. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rodney removed a gun from his holster and held it out, “Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate that you or the Major remain unarmed…so, I brought some extras sir...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John smiled and shook his head, “I can’t take it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rodney’s face fell and his eyes widened, “B-But sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rodney,” Xander sighed, glaring playfully at John, “You have to say the words…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What words?” the man looked legitimately puzzled, “Sir, we’re running out of-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rodney, he’s not gonna take it unless you say it…” Xander sighed, giving John a look that screamed ‘you ridiculous bastard’, which only encouraged John more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man sighed for a moment before his eyes widened, making John grin, “Oh…” he chuckled lightly, shaking his head as if he’d just been told a bad joke, “I’m authorizing you to use my  firearm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There it is!” John laughed, taking the weapon from him, smiling up at the young man as Xander accepted another weapon from the man, “It’s nice to know we have a loyal soldier, Rodney…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir,” Rodney smiled, before walking away towards Paul and Emma, presumably to help them get Emma out of the bed and into the wheelchair so the escape could begin. John checked his magazine to see that it was completely loaded. He turned to Xander. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready for this?” he asked, squeezing his husband’s hand before they went straight back to the professionalism such an escape would require. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander smiled and cocked his gun, “As ready as I’ll ever-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could finish, the doors burst open and they both jumped to their feet, instinct making them both raise their weapons as the form of June Schaeffer strode in, her eyes filled with a coldness that made it seem as if he were looking at another person entirely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart pounded in a way that was unnatural to him as he watched the woman regard the people in the room. Before her eyes could reach him and Xander, he gestured for Xander to place his gun on the bed behind them, concealing them from her view. Before she said anything, she removed a gun from her holster, his hand brushing the grip of Rodney’s gun, poised to grab it and fire, if necessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes fell on Paul and Emma, the two of them close together, looking as though they were fighting for the position of who would protect who. In Emma’s eyes, John could see a form of rage unlike anything he’d ever seen on the woman fill her. He’d heard her fighting against Tom and Becky when they passed the information regarding June’s treachery and what she’d done to Paul. He’d be lying if he said that the idea hadn’t made his blood boil, but as he saw Emma gripping Paul’s arm a little tighter, he knew she was holding everything back to keep herself from murdering the woman right there, and it wasn’t just because she was down to one leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few feet away from him and Xander, Ethan and Lex were shielding Hannah from the woman, the small girl shoved behind them as their eyes went wide. Rodney, standing at the foot of Emma’s bed went Pale. Tom, Tim, and Becky were all huddled on one bed, the three of them hunched together to protect one another (although John knew that both Tom and Becky were focused on protecting Tim). John swallowed hard as he turned his gaze back at Schaeffer. He wouldn’t let them-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t even realized she’d spoken before she fired her weapon. Screams and shouting erupted as everyone prepared to be the one on the unlucky side of the gun. A flash of red and screams entered his head as he saw Ethan collapse to the ground, Lex screaming as she tried to catch Ethan in her arms, pressing her hands to the scarlet-soaked fabric of his shirt, Hannah, frozen and pale behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rage flared in John’s veins and his hand closed around the grip of his weapon, but didn’t raise it yet, his mind racing as he turned his gaze to Ethan and Lex. Ethans face pale and sweaty, his eyes clouded over as if he couldn’t understand the pain that he was in. From what John could see, the boy had been hit in the shoulder, June clearly not taking her usual methodology she used when she would take a kill shot. It was then that he remembered that Ethan and Rodney had switched clothing. If June was under the impression that she had shot at Rodney, then she intended to make the man suffer. She was a far better shot than that to have left Ethan alive. He turned back to Ethan, who was writhing in Lex’s arms, her hands painted red in a way that made John feel sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before John could react, Becky leaped up, as if on instinct, and began to bolt for the wounded teenager, before Schaeffer cocked her gun again and pointed it warningly at the redhead, “Take one more step, Barnes, and the next one goes through your skull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom jumped up from the bed, Tim still buried in his father’s leg as tears dripped down the terrified face. He raised a weapon of his own, “Do it and I shoot you, June,” the man snarled, his eyes still darting slightly over to his former students, his brow furrowed in worry, “You shot a kid, you tried to kill my son and sister-in-law, June, there’s literally nothing stopping me from pulling this trigger right now…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Tom mentioned her attempt to assassinate them, June froze, her face concrete before a look of coldness settled over her eyes. She made no attempt to deny Tom’s allegations as she stole a glance at the people around the room, even wagering a glance at Lucy, who had remained crouched behind one of the beds since the doors had been blown open. The moment her cold eyes traced over Emma’s rage and Paul- who frankly, looked terrified- she smirked and turned back to Tom, her gun still trained on Becky, who was frozen to her spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do it, then,” she challenged him, “You’d shoot someone in front of your kid? Better yet, you know I’m a better shot than you...I’d kill Barnes before you even had the nerve to pull the trigger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John pulled his gun out, “What if you’re outgunned June?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>June sighed, “Here we go...you know, it doesn’t need to be this complicated…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes it does!” Xander shouted, pulling his gun out, “You tried to kill us for what, June? You didn’t care that there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>civilian </span>
  </em>
  <span>child with us...we spent four months in the dark, June, one of those months we spent worrying that if the cave-in hadn’t killed Emma we would have with they way we had to remove her fucking leg!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>June didn’t seem to care, she looked over Emma, a snarl in her voice as she looked at the shaking, furious woman, almost being held back in Paul’s grasp. She nodded at Emma, “I liked you better when you were dead, you know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma let out a scream of anger and fury, lurching forward in Paul’s arms before falling back with a hiss of pain as her leg had to have been feeling the consequences of her actions. She muttered some curses under her breath, but her gaze didn’t leave Schaeffer. Though Emma’s looks would undoubtedly kill, it was obvious that her fury had placed her in a state beyond words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan let out a moan of pain, making everyone's attention snap to Ethan, Becky took the opportunity to run forward but June didn’t seem to notice as her gaze bounced between Rodney, who was still dressed like the teen and Ethan, who was still in Rodney’s uniform, now torn and stained. Hannah said nothing as she stood behind Ethan and Lex, standing up straight as her heavy breaths had rendered her almost swaying back and forth. June broke into a small chuckle, glancing at Rodney, who’d moved away from the foot of Paul and Emma’s bed, looking nervous, his hands only brushing the grip of his gun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So...what was your plan?” she asked him, a satisfied smirk settling over her face, “Get Paul out and then what? Hide until you could find a way to bring me down...because I’m such an awful leader?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have you been doing to make them feel that way?” Lucy asked, the horror evident on her face as she was unable to turn her gaze away from the panicking Lex and Ethan, over whom Becky was trying to work over, “I mean...you shot a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>...what have you been doing that has destroyed their trust?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schaeffer’s face fell into a frown, making John shudder as he thought of Wilbur, his mind twisted and corrupted by the forces of the Black and White, moulded into the emissary of the dark forces that sought to destroy them, “Who the fuck are you again?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her sharp words made Lucy shrink back but John turned to her, anger threatening to compromise his cool exterior, “She’s right, June...what have you been doing? Or should I ask Paul for a testimony? Or Hannah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at Paul, who was looking down, his jaw clenched as the bruises and gashes that covered his face filled him with more anger. He turned to Hannah, who looked too shocked to move, her eyes not leaving Ethan as Becky worked over him, Lex shrinking back into a small ball against the ground,focusing on Ethan alone. John felt a sickening pang in his chest as he remembered how Ethan had already died once. He’d been stuck in the Black and White for so long...he’d dealt with so much pain already, only to be mistaken for a different person and get shot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was it all for, June?” he snarled, his voice dangerously low as he gripped his gun  tightly, still keeping it trained on his false friend, “Power? Control?’  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Order,” she answered cooly, moving her gun so that it pointed in Paul and Emma’s direction, Paul and Emma starting to scramble before her head snapped towards him, “Make one move, Matthews, and I make good on my promise, do you understand me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul paled and clutched Emma tighter, swallowing hard as June’s aim didn’t falter. Whatever June’s promise had been to him, it couldn’t have been good. John could tell just from the indignance and fear in the way he held the furious and fearful Emma tightly, that it had scared him out of his wits, and it had to involve Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “June,” he whispered, keeping his tone even, “I am giving you one chance right now to </span>
  <em>
    <span>put the gun down…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“PEIP was a mess under your control, John,” she chuckled, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>fixed </span>
  </em>
  <span>your mess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Lex laughed through her tears as her bloody hands clutched Ethans, “Forcing everyone over the age of seventeen to work just so they can </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Schaeffer snapped, “Or I’ll make Hannah next.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking dare!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lex screamed, suddenly pulling Hannah down, holding her tightly in her arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“PEIP wasn’t under my </span>
  <em>
    <span>control,</span>
  </em>
  <span> June</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he snarled, unwilling to let this woman, who was willing to murder </span>
  <em>
    <span>children </span>
  </em>
  <span>have her way any longer, “That’s why they call it leadership.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Call it what you will,” June snarled, “What PEIP needs is a strong hand holding it up…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Holding it up or squishing it?” Paul snorted humorlessly from where he was holding Emma, his face filled with anger John was fairly certain he hadn’t thought the man capable of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>June pointed her gun at them again, “I swear, one more word Matthews-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“QUIET!!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>John flinched as the sound of an ear-splitting scream entered the room, causing everyone to jump, springing into action. Lucy nearly threw herself under the hospital bed she was crouched behind, Lex curled in on herself, moving closer to Becky as she tried to protect the wounded Ethan (who looked vapid and away from everyone, unaware of anything that was going on other than his own pain)</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rodney yelped and dropped his gun onto Emma’s hospital bed, falling backward. Tom clutched Tim tighter as Paul and Emma held one another tighter, almost protecting one another from the noise. Schaeffer didn’t waver, however, sneering down at the source of the noise as Hannah extracted herself from her sister’s grasp and walked elegantly to stand in front of the woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schaeffer smirked down at the little girl, “Now what are you going to do...act all wise and give me some mystical reason why I’ll lose…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah said nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Schaeffer…” Paul whispered, his eyes on Hannah, who John presumed he must have gotten close with over the course of their absence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah shook her head, “Waiting…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schaeffer quirked an eyebrow, “Waiting for wh-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The world seemed to shake as the sound of a gunshot reverberated throughout the room. John couldn’t even react as Schaeffer cursed loudly and dropped to the ground, clutching her leg, blood seeping from her left leg. Acting quickly, Rodney and Tom rushed forward to grab Schaeffer and pin her hands behind her. John turned to Xander, as if to see who among them had fired, only to see Xander staring past him, an understanding but shocked expression on his face. John followed his gaze to see…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” he whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma was sitting up in bed, shaking and looking shocked, but in her hands, she held out the gun, staring at it like she couldn’t tell what she had just done. She carefully and shakily put the gun on the table beside the bed, her eyes wide as she did, her breath picking up speed as she stared down at the blankets. Her entire body began to shake as she could hold herself up no longer and she fell backwards, her eyes unfocused and panicked before Paul caught her in his arms and gently held her up, allowing her to lean back in spite of the panic that was evident in her gaze. She didn’t seem like she had any form of remorse about her actions, more of just experiencing the shock of all that had just happened as she curled into Paul’s embrace.  Like her, his eyes were wide, but they offered no judgement as she looked down at her. His arms curled around her and pulled her close to him, rubbing her back comfortingly as she shook. John couldn’t hear what he was whispering to her, but he could tell that he had no qualms about Emma shooting Schaeffer in the leg, and honestly, after all Schaeffer had put the two of them through, John couldn't blame them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While John was shocked that Emma had been the one to take the shot at Schaeffer, he knew that she probably had more right to do so and was more capable of taking the shot than anyone else who’d been holding a gun in the room. She’d been crushed and nearly killed, lost her left leg and spent months in pain and isolation as she lived in fear that the next day might be the day she died. She’d spent so long worrying about feeding her nephew, which would have been avoided had Schaeffer not blown the cavern, or actually sent people in after them. While they’d been trapped, as John understood it, June had manipulated and harmed Paul, the love of her life. From the looks of the man when he’d first walked it, John had to presume that the man had been tortured more than once, and Tom </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>mentioned something about the citadel chamber? Honestly, he was surprised that Emma had waited as long as she had to shoot the woman, better yet, he was surprised Emma hadn’t killed her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom and Rodney hauled June to her feet, the woman grunting in pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir,” Rodney began, “What should we-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get her to the medbay,” he spoke tiredly, “After Kirk or McMurray has seen her, the brig…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schaeffer chuckled, small grunts of pain under her breath. Instead of having any clever retort for Xander, she turned to Paul and Emma, stretching from where Tom and Rodney held her tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, that’s how it is, then?” she crooned, her eyes tracing over Paul and Emma, who shot her glares, “A leg for a leg, eh Perkins?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma said nothing, her eyes not leaving the woman, still shaking, but not having any form of regret other than perhaps she should have aimed for somewhere else. She just held Paul’s hand tighter and glared up at the woman in a way that practically redefined ‘if looks could kill’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schaeffer only snorted and stared Paul down, “You think this makes you safe, Matthews?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t answer, only holding onto Emma slightly tighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>June shook her head, “I might not have been able to keep my promise, but I swear to God, you’ve not seen the last of me...I swear on my life…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom huffed angrily and nudged the woman forward, clearly determined to get her away from his sister-in-law, her partner, and his son. He and Rodney hauled the limping woman forward, who didn’t look like the bullet wound in her leg wasn’t causing her any pain. As she was moved through the doors, she shot a death glare over her shoulder at John and Xander, her message clear as the fury flashed in her eyes. In some ways it was different from the control and composure that he was so used to seeing in who had been his best colonel. In her place there was an unhinged woman who’d just been deprived of any and all power she’d once had and tried to grasp forever. If she was still holding her gun when she’d collapsed to the ground after Emma had fired, he was fairly certain she would not have hesitated from killing them all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment after the doors to the quarantine bay slammed shut, all was quiet, nobody sure of what they should do. Xander knelt down to the ground and picked up Schaeffer’s firearm from where it had slid to the ground after Emma had shot her. He promptly removed the magazine and set it aside before turning to Becky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still have your transponder?” he asked her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without turning her eyes off of Ethan, Becky answered, “yeah…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I use it?” Xander asked, moving forward to check on Ethan, who thankfully, was still conscious, but looked like he was a complete and total mess. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky tossed the transponder to him and Xander typed in a code, “Yeah, Kirk?”He asked, his voice official and calm as he looked over at the pale and bleeding teenager, “We need a gurney and a team down here, Ethan’s been shot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Be right there,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> came Kirk’s urgent voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander nodded, “Thank you…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John walked over to Becky and knelt down, “How is he?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From what he could see, Ethan had been shot in the shoulder, his arm stained with blood. Lex was still cradling his head and Hannah was now curled up in her sister’s arms as Becky worked to stop the bleeding. The teen’s eyes were hazy, but he glanced around the room like he could see and hear everything that was happening. At the very least he was awake, and the fact that Becky had been there to apply pressure to the wound was good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll live,” Becky murmured, allowing everyone in the room to breathe a collective sigh of relief, “But the sooner Kirk and the others get here the better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to Xander, the small amount of relief not compromising the authority and mission-driven ideals that occupied their minds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment before the medical personnel flooded the quarantine bay that he stared over at the people that he had in his family. He glanced at Lucy, the new girl, who was hugging Tim since Tom had left, a new and wonderful addition to their family with her childlike optimism and joy. She’d be safe with PEIP, and he was sure Chumby would come back soon enough. To Lex and Hannah, holding Ethan’s hands while Becky transferred the work to Dr. Kirk and the others as they loaded the young man onto a gurney, ready to get the bullet out of him and ensure that he lived the life he was deserving of. He didn’t know what horrors those three had seen over the course of the past few months, but they’d endured it, staying safe and sticking together. As Ethan was rolled out of the quarantine bay, Becky followed, nodding in thanks at Paul and Emma, still wrapped tightly in one another’s arms, almost afraid of letting go as Dr. Abadi helped Paul get Emma in the wheelchair, possibly to get her to the right medical bay where she could be better attended to. Their hands were still clasped tightly together as they were moved out to follow Ethan and the Fosters, Tim and Lucy following them, possibly to meet Tom in the infirmary. He turned to Xander. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment they just stared at one another. After months of fighting to return to PEIP, they suddenly felt like they were in a different place altogether, with all the damage that June had done. In a moment of silent understanding, Xander reached over and took John’s hand in his, gently stroking over his knuckles with his rough and calloused fingers after months of labor. They’d been through so much with one another...and now they were back, but that didn’t mean the work was done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were back home, and they had work to do...but they were okay…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if they weren’t, they would be… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby smiled to herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew it was inevitable that the human would fail to keep the family separated for long. Though she had no hand in the actions of the woman, who was now cuffed to a puny hospital bed for her crimes, she had to admit she admired the woman’s ambition. That had been enough to give her the time to at the very least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to block Hannah from seeing or hearing the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But of course, Hannah had pushed through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She always did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter how hard Webby would try to keep the girl away, she would be more powerful than she’d originally anticipated… which...was a pleasant surprise every time. Even if it was infuriating to see her efforts unravelled by such a puny and pathetic little form.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though it frustrated her beyond imagination to see the family reunited, it did make her happy to know that the next stage in her plans would be ready. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to her baby brother, the little boy with small horns poking free from his forehead as his bulging blue eyes quizzically studying her as she stared out into the great beyond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since taking over the world several months before, each of her siblings had claimed some territory of the earth for their own, making Hatchetfield their base of operation and ‘capital city’ as Wiggly and Apatha called it. They knew that there were survivors, but they also knew that it would be no fun to snuff them out in one fell swoop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, they had to make them suffer….which was where the next stage of the game came into play. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tinky?” she called, turning over her shoulder to see her little brother jumping up from where he’d been sitting cross-legged over what had once been a marketplace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He skipped up to her excitedly. She knew he must have gotten bored after months of doing the same old thing. While it was fun for her to watch him drag people through eternal torment, she knew he longed for more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it time?!” he asked bubbly, almost jumping up and down in excitement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled softly and drew her hand through his greasy, almost waxy hair, “Not yet...but soon…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brother pouted, “How soon?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled again, “The family has been reunited...but they need a few moments...let them be happy for a while before we can rip it all away again…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He whined slightly, almost stomping his hooved feet, “But I want to play with the bastard </span>
  <em>
    <span>now…” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, buddy,” she soothed, “But it’ll be soon enough...we want them strong before we tear them apart, yes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, “I guess…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we are close, Tinky,” she smiled, “All of us will have some fun soon enough…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Janey?” he asked suddenly, his face contorting in that confused look that she found adorable, “What about her warning?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby sighed. The fact that Emma Perkins and Paul Matthews had been so well bonded to create that pocket or the spirit of Jane Perkins to escape into had been a major pain in the neck for her. She’d ensured that the woman had died over and over again, just to watch her sister follow in her footsteps, wrapping them in an endless cycle that would confuse them and leave them subject to their eternal torment, but the rules were different now. She’d expected to permanently eliminate Emma from the equation with June Schaeffer’s greed and her ability to change the rules of the game, thereby destroying Paul in the process...but she’d failed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul had pulled Emma back without realizing or looking back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chuckled lightly to herself. Apatha’s favorite and Jane’s sister had become an issue for her...but she wouldn’t kill them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not yet, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jane Perkins’ warning is of no concern to us,” she affirmed to her little brother, “There’s no way anyone, even Hannah, would be able to understand it...all we need to do is bide our time, Little Brother, then you, me, and all of our siblings will have the world exactly the way we want it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” her brother’s eyes were so wide she thought she might melt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she nodded, “As long as your box is ready?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and hopped up and down, his excitement so clear, “It’s ready! It’s ready! The bastard is too!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” she smiled, “I knew I could count on you...but now we’ve just got to be patient, can you do that for me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Webby,” he smiled big, “And everyone else is ready, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at the thought of her other siblings ready for their phase in their plan once she and Tinky had completed theirs. It hadn’t taken them long to conceive this plan, since most of it had been her idea, but they were ready…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded at her little brother, “Of course...we all just have to wait.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d let the humans think they were safe, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d let them be happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, they’d tear it all away</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>WEBBYS BACK!!!!</p>
<p>At least they took down Schaeffer *Wink wink*</p>
<p>I might let them be happy, but I don’t know...it really depends...</p>
<p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!!! I really appreciate you guys for reading my stuff!! Sorry this one was a lot shorter, but I appreciate you guys reading it all the same!!!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please stay safe in light of these trying times and wear a mask! And if you’re in DC, please stay safe!!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Promise to Survive, Persevere, and Thrive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ethan wakes up.</p><p>The gang has their first briefing in forever.</p><p>Paul and Emma fall back into a rhythm<br/>together (as if they were ever out of one).</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this chapter comes from the song ‘The Promise’ by Chris Cornell.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: mentions of abandonment, wounds, pain, hospitals</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: December 19th, 2018</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Ethan’s eyelids felt heavy as he forced his eyes open with a small groan. </p><p>He couldn’t remember much...only the pain. </p><p>They’d been in the quarantine bay, right? Trying to get everything done so that everyone could get out and avoid being shot-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Holy shit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Schaeffer had found them… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Then he’d been shot. </p><p>
  <em>Fucking great. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He groaned at the memory. His whole arm had felt like it had been torn apart and burning at the same time. How he hadn’t screamed had been beyond him...he most <em> definitely </em> didn’t have the pain tolerance required for getting shot in the...where had he been shot? He figured it was his arm, since one of the last things he’d seen before things had gotten a little hazy was Becky working over him...and Lex…</p><p>
  <em> Lex. </em>
</p><p>He suddenly felt his heart like a kickdrum in his chest, he was still alive, but where was Lex? Had Schaeffer shot her too? God, had she shot Hannah? Where was everyone? What was-</p><p>“I think he’s awake…” a gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his panic rising. It took him a while to recognize Becky’s voice, but her hands on his arm instantly snapped him to reality. It wasn’t long before he realized they weren’t alone. </p><p>“Ethan...Ethan, son, are you okay?” </p><p>
  <em> John.  </em>
</p><p>“J-Johnny?” he choked out. God, why was his throat so dry?It was then that he noticed the dull throb in his arm, making him cry out in pain. </p><p>“Easy there, son,” John soothed, his face appearing in Ethan’s blurred vision, “You took one hell of a hit there...scared the shit out of us…Lex and Hannah should be here any minute, the protocols that Schaeffer implemented wouldn’t allow them in, so it’s taking me a bit to get them here, but they’ll be here, I promise...”</p><p>Ethan sighed in relief. He trusted John enough to give him solid answers. If there was anyone he trusted to tell him where Lex and Hannah were, it was him. </p><p>“I-I I got…” Ethan stammered, “I got sh-sho-<em> shit…” </em>He groaned as his arm throbbed letting a few hoarse coughs leave him.</p><p>John shook his head, “Yeah, you got shot, gave us quite a scare…” </p><p>Ethan chuckled humorlessly as the world around him continued to feel like it was under water, “What’d they put me on?” </p><p>“Pain meds,” Came John’s blunt answer, “A shit-ton of them from what I understand.” </p><p>“Nice,” Ethan nodded, leaning back on the pillow that suddenly felt like the most comfortable thing ever, “Mind tellin’ me what happened?” </p><p>“Well…”John sat down in a chair beside Ethan’s bed, “Like what?” </p><p>“I mean…” Ethan slurred, “I member’ gettin’ shot n’all...but after that s’all hazy.”</p><p>John sighed, “Well, June threatened to shoot everyone…”</p><p>“Everyone?” </p><p>“Everyone.”</p><p>“Shit,” Ethan chuckled, before his eyes widened, “But she didn’t...right?” </p><p>“No,” John shook his head, “Thankfully, Hannah caused a small distraction which gave Emma enough time to somehow get Rodney’s gun and shoot her in the leg…” </p><p>It took a while for Ethan’s head to wrap around the information. Though he was conscious, his head wasn’t entirely there yet, so most of the words that John had spoken swirled around endlessly in his brain until they finally formed the sentence containing the information Ethan was actually supposed to be receiving. But when he did, <em> oh boy… </em></p><p>“Emma shot Schaeffer?!” Ethan exclaimed, too tired to sit up or make any motion that resembled the shock he felt, before settling down, “Good for her.”</p><p>“Agreed,” John chuckled, before his face fell, “I don’t know what June was doing all the time she was General, but I promise, Ethan, I’ll undo it all…” </p><p>“Good,” Ethan  sighed, “Because, I don’t know if you noticed, but things round here really suck.”</p><p>“I’ll bet,” John sighed, “But that’s gonna go away now, you won’t have to work however many hours just to make sure that Hannah can eat…”</p><p>Ethan managed a small smile at the man, his eyes somewhat glazed over. </p><p>God, he’d missed Johnny.</p><p>In some ways, the way John would talk about moving forward in life and fixing the mistakes reminded him of his father. Like John, Tony Green had always been one to talk about respectability, and making life his own. As a single teen father, Tony had always been the one teaching Ethan about life and how to move forward. Even when they disagreed about things, and Tony hated seeing Ethan making some of the choices Tony had when he was his age, he never was completely judging, and instead made sure that Ethan had considered the consequences. Tony never talked about Ethan’s mother, one of his longtime girlfriends, who didn’t want the baby, but didn’t want an abortion, instead choosing to dump Ethan on Tony, who’d instantly fallen in love with the small infant. It had been Tony to name Ethan, to take him home, to work several part time jobs to support the little boy. To teach him how to ride a bike, how to jump start a car, to repair them. Ethan owed most of his mindset and work ethic to his dad, even if he didn’t like working, he did have a mind that was meant to put things together or take them apart, with the latter being the more common optio. </p><p>He never worried that his dad wasn’t proud of him, just worried that he was undeserving of it. After all, Tony had worked harder than anyone Ethan had ever known, besides Lex. </p><p>Tony had known enough about cars to start the garage, which was enough to let him raise Ethan and save up to afford classes at the Community College. Ethan was three when his dad got his degree in engineering and mechanics, which, in turn, made people trust Tony’s experience in the field more and also made business better for the garage. Ethan was raised around the scent of motor oil and tire rubber, all of which he grew to love. He remembered running around the small apartment above the garage in his dad’s old leather jacket, his dad smiling down at him and telling him he could keep it. Although it had taken several years for Ethan to grow into the long sleeves and the heavy jacket that sank well past his knees, he’d never forgotten the things that his father had taught him. </p><p>
  <em> “Treat a car like a new baby, Ethan, even if it’s an ol’ jalopy.”” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wear your own skin, Ethan, nobody else’s.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s F-L-I-G-H-T, Ethan, not F-L-I-T-E.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your car goes where your eyes go, Ethan, so that means you should be looking at the road.” </em>
</p><p>Now that Ethan thought about it, Tony had been his first teacher. Though Tony might not have known much, his entire language circulating around the maintenance and handling of cars, he’d done everything he could to raise Ethan right, and Ethan would have liked to tell his father that he’d done a good job. </p><p>God, he missed his father. </p><p>Where was Tony?</p><p>After months of visiting Myrtle, he’d always come up empty. The last conversation he’d had with his father had been a simple phone call, at the very least telling him where he was, there had been a simple, ‘I love you, son,’, to which Ethan had rolled his eyes and said, ‘Love ya, Pops, I’ll see you soon, promise,’. </p><p>Now Ethan wished he’d said so much more. </p><p>The thought was sickening. The fact that his father had spent so long not knowing he had a son that existed. A son that had been murdered in cold blood and therefore erased from existence due to the fucking twisted rules of the universe or some shit like thar. A son that was manifested back into reality, and then kept under constant surveillance because he wasn’t safe because life was a fucking nightmare, and therefore unable to at the very least hug his father again. A son who might never again see his father because the aforementioned twisted rules of the universe had kept them apart, and he’d never know whether Antonio Green was alive. </p><p>“Ethan?” John’s soft and concerned voice interrupted Ethan’s thoughts, snapping him out of his thoughts. When Ethan looked up, he saw that the man’s eyes were filled with concern as he reached out and gently touched his unwounded shoulder, “Are you okay?” </p><p>Ethan managed a small nod against his pillow, until he realized that tears were streaming down his face. </p><p>How long had he been crying?</p><p>“I-um…” He stammered, unable to find a good explanation for the man before him. </p><p>What would he say? How would he be able to explain this? While he knew that John would be the least likely to judge him for anything remotely associated with his father, it was still hard to admit those sorts of things to other people. </p><p>“I-I-um, ” he cursed under his breath, still debating whether or not to bring it up, “It’s-um...it’s my-”</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, son,” John smiled gently, “Just know that I’m here if you ever want to talk…” </p><p>
  <em> Thank God. </em>
</p><p>Ethan managed a small smile, “Th-Thanks…”</p><p>Before John could speak in response, the sound of shouting came from the hallway. </p><p>“How long has he been awake?” Came the familiar, furious voice of the girl Ethan loved more than anything in the world, echoing through the hallways of the infirmary. </p><p>“Just a few moments, Lex,” went the voice of one of the nurses that had been there, possibly Nurse Chapel or Martin, “But you need to keep your voice down, we have other patients who need rest…”</p><p>“Please, just tell me where-”</p><p>Before Lex could finish her sentence, John pulled the door completely open and peered out, “In here, Lex!” he called, smiling back at Ethan as the girl in question stormed into the room, followed by Hannah, her eyes wide as she stopped in the doorway, her face paling at the sight of him.</p><p>Ethan tried to manage a small smile, but teith the throbbing in his arm, he was fairly certain it might have come off as more of a grimace than a comforting smile, “Hey...Hey, Lexi…”</p><p>Lex said nothing, her gorgeous eyes filling with tears as she just stared at him, her hands gently placed on Hannah’s soldiers. </p><p>John stood slowly, “I’ll let you guys have some privacy…” as he walked slowly out of the room, Ethan took note of the IV pole the man was tugging along with him. Although he was back in his uniform, and not the hospital sweats he and the other survivors had been provided with, he was still very obviously malnourished and dehydrated, which made sense why he would be pulling along the fluids, or whatever witchcraft that they’d put him on. Ethan chuckled and the man turned around with a smug smile on his face, “Something funny, Green?” </p><p>“You sure you should be on your feet, old man?” Ethan laughed.</p><p>“I may be older than you son,” John sighed, rolling his eyes as he walked past Lex, “But I’m in far better shape than you right now…”</p><p>Ethan sighed, “Low blow…” </p><p>John only smiled and turned to Lex, “See that he doesn’t go and do something even more stupid…” </p><p>“More stupid then getting himself shot?” Lex smiled through the tears, “Yeah...I’ll see about it…”</p><p>She started to pace towards the bed before John addressed all of them, “Hey…” </p><p>Their attention all snapped to John, who smiled softly at the three of them, putting them all at ease, it seemed, though Ethan continued to watch Lex through the periphery of his vision. He hoped he hadn’t worried anyone, but he could tell from the way Lex was standing that she most definitely was not happy. </p><p>John looked down, his eyes filled with a slight amount of regret, “I know...nothing I can say will make up for what Schaeffer did to you guys, but I do know that I will do everything in my power to fix it…”</p><p>Ethan looked up at John, realizing just then how much John <em> had </em>to be beating himself up for what had happened. John’s closest friend had betrayed them and hurt the members of their group in several different ways. He knew that some of the things that Schaeffer had done, what she’d ordered, were unforgivable. She’d purposefully split them apart and watched while they all scrambled for ways to stay alive. Lex and Ethan had worked several long, grueling hours in the hot and overcrowded machine shops in the lower levels every single day, where if the people who worked went a day without one of their companions falling unconscious from the brutal and horrifying work they were subjected to. Thankfully, neither Lex nor Ethan ever faced any thing of the sort, and Hannah still was able to eat, but everything was still on edge. Ethan had never thought that the repercussions of what Schaeffer had done would influence John in this way.  In every word the man spoke, Ethan could see genuine regret that he’d had to have been carrying around since finding out about Schaeffer. </p><p>Lex looked down, her eyes filled with some form of thanks as she reached behind her, her fingers brushing gently over Ethan’s, “Thank you…”</p><p>John nodded, “Oh,” he paused before he left the room, “...and Xander said he might want another meeting with the group in Emma’s room at some point in the next few hours, so be ready for that…”</p><p>Ethan nodded, “We will. Thanks, John.”</p><p>With that, John turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the three of them in a terse silence. </p><p>It was Hannah who broke it, with a smile and a giggle as she rushed forward, gently burrowing her face into Ethan’s side from the bed. </p><p>“Okay?” she murmured as he shakily reached out to touch the top of her head, her hair messy from the ordeals of earlier. </p><p>“Yeah...Banana,” he whispered, looking up at Lex, who was standing coldly to the side so she also got the message, “I’m okay…”</p><p>Lex nodded and stared at the floor, her eyes red and puffy from what he assumed was worry and the rapture of what had happened. </p><p>“Lex…” he whispered as she sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. </p><p>She swallowed hard and looked at him, her silence making his heart beat painfully fast in his chest, “Do you know how fucking scared I was?” </p><p>Her voice was a terse whisper, but the tears that dripped down her cheeks made it very clear just how terrified she had been. That was the word, right? When someone was so fucking scared they could barely speak?</p><p>He didn’t get the chance to try and assure her that he was fine, in spite of the throbbing wound on his shoulder, before she was speaking again. </p><p>“You could have been killed, Ethan,” she whispered, looking at him with red eyes that were filled with unspeakable amounts of anger and fear, “You could have been killed, and then what? I can’t do that again, E, not again…”</p><p>Her voice trailed off and he found his heart clenching terribly as his mind flashed with images of the fucking crazy lawyer and the angry man in the plaid jacket entered his mind, kicking the shit out of him just before he was dragged off to the Black and white. At the time, he’d not known he was going to die. He only could think of the pain and Lex, and the promise he’d made to her and Hannah. The fact that he intended to keep that promise, only able to think of that as he died in Mr. Houston’s arms. He remembered how dying felt, and even worse, how it had felt to wake up in the Black and White alone to watch Lex and Hannah go through <em> lifetimes </em>without him. It had hurt. Sure, he had John, and then Paul for the most part, which meant he wasn’t alone, but the fact remained that he didn’t intend to die again until he was old and had something he could call a life behind him. But he had never thought about what the knowledge of his previous death had done to Lex. </p><p>“Lex…” he whispered, tears filling his eyes as she took his hand gently, “I’m so...I’m so sorry…”</p><p>Lex chuckled humorlessly, “Rodney’s lucky I didn’t kill him for dressing up as you and letting you take the bullet…” she looked at him, her eyes soft as she glanced from Hannah, who was still buried into Ethan’s side gently, having pushed herself up onto the bed with him, snuggled tight, “Just...please, don’t do that again, E…”</p><p>“Get myself shot for impersonating my doppelganger?” he laughed in a raspy voice, running one of his fingers gently over her hand, his eyes not leaving her, “Sure thing, boss…”</p><p>She chuckled lightly, wiping her eyes as she stared down at Hannah, looking exhausted as she snoozed lightly next to Ethan. For a while they just sat there in silence, the both of them just watching Hannah sleep for what looked like the most peaceful fifteen minutes of her life. Lex looked up, breaking the silence. </p><p>“Do you really think things are gonna change around here, now that John and Xander are back?” she whispered. </p><p>He shrugged, wincing as his shoulder protested, “I think the way things are run will change, but with what’s goin’ on upstairs…”</p><p>He trailed off with a small shudder. He didn’t know what to think about what was going on in the world above that they were hidden away from. He didn’t even pretend he knew or understood it. He knew Lex and Hannah knew better than he did, and that Webby had some part in the actions of the crazy old man who’d kidnapped Mr. Houston’s son. All he knew was that the world above had gone crazy and they had no idea what to do about it while the human population was slowly weeded away. </p><p>Lex seemed to understand. Schaeffer had forbidden anybody other than herself and the others that she’d send on scouting missions (usually men who came back mortally wounded, or were left to die out there) to talk about the beings that had claimed dominance over the world. That, of course, didn’t change the fact that there were whispers of them. A vague idea of what exactly it was that had claimed the world as their own. Simple words had become household names, ‘the spider’, for example, which the three of them had instantly known as Webby. Then, of course, there had been ‘the singer’, which he’d known was Apatha and had instantly felt sick thinking about her being back on Earth, ‘the creature’, which he could only assume was Wiggly, ‘the watcher’, ‘the smile’,  and finally, the most uncreative one, ‘the goat’. While the majority of what they’d heard had been rumors and speculation, the very thought of the Beings of the Black and White, the ones that nobody in their group was familiar with had been enough to make Ethan panic, or worry that the next day would be the day their small sect was discovered and destroyed. </p><p>He sighed deeply. Nothing about what was going on in the world seemed right, and yet, he couldn’t allow himself to worry. Not when Lex and Hannah were right there with him.</p><p>Lex scooted closer to him on the bed, her hand gently tracing patterns over his own as she stared at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, their attention snapping up to see Xander in the doorway. </p><p>He smiled sheepishly, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything…?” </p><p> Lex shook her head with a soft smile, “No, Xander, it’s fine…”</p><p>Hannah groaned softly and opened her eyes, smiling when she saw Xander, “Time for meeting?” </p><p>Xander nodded, “We figured we’d move the meeting up and into your room, since you’ve been shot...Becky doesn’t want you out of bed this soon.”</p><p>”And  when Becky speaks, we listen,” Ethan chuckled, wincing again at the soreness in his shoulder, “Yeah, that sounds good, Xander.”</p><p>Hannah sat up rubbing the small amount of sleep that she’d gotten from her eyes, “Emma has something to say…” </p><p>Xander tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean, Hannah?”</p><p>Hannah closed her eyes slowly before opening them softly again, “Safe...for now...but next wave soon.”</p><p>Despite the clear lack of understanding in his eyes, Xander nodded along with her, “Which is why we’re gonna talk about it, Hannah,” he smiled softly at her, “If you three are up for it, of course?” </p><p> For a moment, Ethan just exchanged glances with Lex and Hannah, before they both nodded slowly at him, almost expecting <em> him </em> to be the deciding factor. He was tired, he knew, but the information they needed to hear <em> had </em> to be important to a certain degree...therefore, they <em> had </em>to go over what they knew and Ethan was anxious to know as much as he could about what was happening. </p><p>    He nodded, “Let’s do it.”</p><p>---</p><p>    “Alright,” Xander sighed, leaning up against the wall of Ethan’s infirmary room as he surveilled the group of people before him, “Is everyone here?”</p><p>    Before him, everyone had found a small place in the small room to bunch together, and honestly, Xander couldn’t blame them. Especially not after they’d been separated for so long.</p><p>Paul and Emma had found a small spot in the corner, Paul seated in one of the comfy chairs that had been placed around the room, and Emma in a wheelchair close to where he was seated, her hands held in his much larger ones. John was leaning against the wall beside him, still holding the IV pole that was helping him get himself balanced as well as now holding up Xander’s own fluids, the two of them linked together by the pole. Tom was seated on the small couch adjacent to where Paul and Emma were seated, Tim asleep on his chest and Becky seated next to them, her eyes darting around the room nervously. Standing beside her, was Lucy, dressed in provided sweats and looking rather fascinated with everything that was going on around her, as she had been since they’d been taken from the quarantine bay and placed in the infirmary properly. Like John, Xander, and Emma, she too had an IV pole holding her fluid bag, but she didn’t regard it with much as she craned her neck to see if she could spot any differences between PEIP’s admittedly high-tech infirmary and what she was used to. If it hadn’t been for her apparent excitement and fascination with all that PEIP did, he would have felt sorry for the woman, knowing how hard it was to be thrown from one environment with little to no friends into an area that could be completely overwhelming. He knew she missed Chumby, though, but for the meantime, he’d do all he could to make sure Lucy was as comfortable as possible. </p><p>After performing a mental headcount, Xander nodded, “Yep, that’s all of us…”</p><p>The room was suddenly filled with awkward silence, almost as if nobody actually knew what they wanted to talk about. </p><p>In the end, it was Hannah who broke the silence, turning to Emma, who looked more than exhausted. </p><p>“You have something to tell us…” she whispered, making Emma shift uncomfortably in her seat. </p><p>“I-...I do?” Emma stammered, looking very confused. </p><p>Hannah nodded sagely, “A message...from Jane…”</p><p>Emma’s eyes softened and widened for a moment, almost as if what Hannah had said had been something of a slap to the face. For a moment, she just sat there, her eyes wide, even as Paul looked at her in confusion. </p><p>“Yeah, I’ve got a question,” Ethan asked, breaking the silence with his still somewhat raspy voice, but not nearly as slurred as it had been when he woke up, “How come you two could talk? And how come it took so long to figure that out?” </p><p>    John nodded, “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about the same thing.”</p><p>Paul glanced at Emma before turning bac to the others, “I-um...I’d be lying if I said I understood how it happened...I just assumed that with...y’know,” he made a vague gesture with his hands, “With my abilities, that I was able to hear her, and answering back was part of it…”</p><p>Emma nodded slightly, almost as if she too had come to that conclusion, before Hannah shot them both out of the sky, “Wrong.” </p><p>They turned to the little girl, sitting up on Ethan’s bed, a look of conviction in her eyes. </p><p>“Jane told you,” Hannah whispered, “Jane knew…”</p><p>Emma paled for a moment, “You mean…”</p><p>“Not a dream,” Hannah nodded, “Never a dream...day dream...you remember.”</p><p>Jane. </p><p>Jane had been the name of Tom’s wife, Tim’s mother, and Emma’s older sister. A woman who’d been dead for nearly a year now after a horrible car accident that had apparently been the starting point for everything awful in the universe. If Hannah said there was a message…</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered, trying not to wake his sleeping son up,  “I’m very confused…”</p><p>Emma turned to Paul before she spoke, “Um...it’s a long story…”</p><p>“We’ve got the time,” John muttered, “Just tell us what you know and what Jane said….for example, Paul, how did you know we were alive?”</p><p>Paul and Emma glanced at one another for just a brief moment, the look of confusion in their eyes unparallelled. </p><p>“Well,” Paul began, “It’s gonna sound fucking crazy…” </p><p>Emma chuckled under her breath before cutting him off, “It was a dream…” she glanced over at Paul, and in a manner that made it seem like they’d just shared the best joke of all time with one another, they burst out laughing. </p><p>While they were laughing, the rest of the people in the room looked at them strangely. </p><p>“A dream?” Lucy asked. </p><p>Emma nodded, “Yeah...Jane had something to say about that-”</p><p>“Emma, slow down,” Tom said, his eyes filled with confusion, “You saw Jane?” </p><p>When their laughter had died down, Emma nodded, “Yes, in the dream...only, she said it wasn’t a dream…” </p><p>“Tell us what Jane said,” Hannah said, smiling at the two adults, “Before you woke up…” </p><p>“Oh…” Emma’s eyes softened and she swallowed, “Well...first I think I better tell you what this recurring dream is…”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m a little lost there, too,” John muttered, leaning in so he could hear better. </p><p> “Well…” Emma inhaled sharply, “The first time I had it, it was a week or so before I realized Paul and I could communicate...I was in a field...a really nice-looking field with poppies and cornflowers...I was waiting for someone, and I was wearing this really weird dress...Paul came, everything was nice, the sky turned red and then he died. That was the first time.”</p><p>“The first time?” Tom asked. </p><p>“Yeah,” Emma nodded, “The second time was different. I was in Hidgens’ house, only it looked a whole lot more different...it was overgrown, with plants everywhere...I was in the same dress and the same field, when I went outside I saw Hidgens and talked to him for a little bit- well, he did the talking, I didn’t want to say anything to him-”</p><p>“Good,” Tom muttered, his grip around the still-sleeping Tim tightening. </p><p>“He leads me through the same field to a different house...it reminded me of the one me and Jane grew up in, only neater...and there she was….” </p><p>“There she was?” John asked. </p><p>Emma nodded, squeezing Paul’s hand, “She opened the door for me...it was Jane…”</p><p>At those words, Tom sucked in a breath and Emma went on. </p><p>“She looked a little older than the last time I’d seen her,” Emma whispered, “I had so many questions, and honestly, I can’t remember what she told me...but I remember seeing you,” she turned to Tom and Tim, “There were...images of you...you weren’t there, but you were...you and Tim, only Tim was probably a toddler…” </p><p>Her eyes narrowed and she looked down, “There was another door...I could hear some soft singing coming from it, but Jane wouldn’t tell me what it was, she just showed me to the door and ushered me out, and before I could ask her any questions, the house was gone. </p><p>She bit her lip, “After that, I found myself coming to a forest of some kind, I could hear Paul yelling for me...and I went to look for him...the same thing happened as the first dream. The sky turned red and he died.”</p><p>Paul nodded, “I remember that one...only it started differently for me...’</p><p>“Wait,” Xander held out his hands, “You’re saying you guys shared dreams?” </p><p>At their small uncertain nods, he went on, “How the hell is that possible.” </p><p>Paul shrugged but Emma didn’t. </p><p>“We didn’t realize that we were <em> actually </em>seeing one another,” she whispered, “And I didn’t realize I’d actually seen Jane.”</p><p>At those words, Tom looked at his sister-in-law with an almost-wounded expression, “What do you mean?” </p><p>Paul nodded, “Yeah, I’m lost too…”</p><p>Emma sighed before turning to Paul, “I can only remember four dreams in that field. The first one, the one where I started out in Hidgens house, the one where we realized we were actually seeing one another, and then one right before I woke up in the quarantine bay…”</p><p>Paul furrowed his brow, “I only remember three of those.”</p><p>Emma shrugged, “You were only in the first three...I’ve seen Jane and Hidgens in two, though…”</p><p>Hannah turned to Paul, “What do you remember from the dreams?” </p><p>Paul shrugged, “Usually I’m just wandering around until I hear Emma and I find her...but one of us always dies and the sky turns red, as she said,” he looked down, “Usually it’s the same field she described, but the second time, it was a forest...some kind of dark forest. ”</p><p>At his words, both Emma and Hannah’s eyes widened. </p><p>“Forest?” Hannah asked, her brown eyes wide as she looked at Paul, almost as if she were trying to draw the image from his words alone. </p><p>Paul nodded, “Yeah, all grey and black...no leaves...just dead wood...when I heard Emma’s voice and started going towards it, though, I found actually live ones...with red leaves and stuff like that…Emma?”</p><p>Emma’s eyes were wide, almost as if she had seen a ghost. Hannah looked up at her. </p><p>“Time to share what Jane said,” she whispered, her voice soft but authoritative, almost as if she knew that Emma had the answers that they needed. </p><p>Emma sighed and nodded, “Just before I woke up in the quarantine bay,” Xander noticed her tighten her grip on Paul’s hands again, “I found myself in the same house I saw Jane in the first time, only there was np Tom or Tim...or pictures of furniture...we’re talking an empty house...but there was a...a...”</p><p>She trailed off for a moment, her gaze meeting Paul’s, almost as if she were studying every detail of his face. Almost as if she were ready to draw a portrait of him, and wanted to make sure she had his image committed to memory, only her eyes seemed to widen the longer she looked at him. As she stared into Paul’s eyes, Xander could see several emotions cross her gaze, confusion, recognition, an almost bittersweet form of reminiscence. It wasn’t long, however, before she was snapped from her reverie.</p><p>“Emma?” Paul whispered, “Em, you okay?” </p><p>Emma was snapped from her daze, “Hmm? Oh, sorry...I just-um...I saw Jane. Jane and Hidgens…” </p><p>She looked from Paul to Hannah again, almost as if she were doing the most complex forms of math in her mind as she glanced around the room. </p><p>“What did they say to you, Em?” Paul whispered, looking very concerned. </p><p>“I-um...she whispered….they told me I died…” before anyone could say anything, she amended her statement, “When the caves collapsed on me...they said I was dead...that you guys felt me die.”</p><p>“I did,” Paul whispered, his voice breaking just a little, “I couldn’t hear you...not your heartbeat...nothing...just-” he sighed and buried his face in his hands before he could say anything else.</p><p>Xander shuddered at the memory of how bloody and broken Emma’s body had been when they’d pulled her from the rubble. Had it not been for the very weak heartbeat they’d found, he was certain they’d have had to bury her. </p><p>“But you’re alive now,” John whispered, “Which begs the question of how.”</p><p>Emma inhaled and exhaled sharply, moving her hands to her lap as she kept glancing from Paul to the floor before sighing, “They said...this is gonna sound so stupid.”</p><p>Xander shook his head, “At this rate, Emma, I doubt anything would surprise me.”</p><p>He hated how true those words were. Back before he’d known John had ever existed, the sensors going off by Beanies had been the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. Little had he known, that the world he knew was going to flip upside down and he would have to spend the next few months trying to fend for himself and learn the ways by which the theoretical (but very real) Black and White worked. Things had been so simple back in those days, and now, everything was fair game...even the stupidest of things. </p><p>Emma nodded and sighed as Paul took her hands in his own, his eyes filled with some form of encouragement, as if telling her that she was safe now. In some ways Xander understood how much that meant to her. While Emma was not the kind of woman who would shy away from anything that looked dangerous, something about Paul’s nature made her feel comfortable, secure...something nobody would have assumed Emma to be attracted to. </p><p>Emma nodded again before turning to Paul, “She said I was dead for only a moment,” she bit down on her lower lip, “But...during that time...our bond...the soulbond thing that we share, created a pocket outside of a dark forest thing…”</p><p>“Nightmare Time,” Hannah whispered, her eyes widening more. </p><p>Emma looked up and nodded, “Exactly...the bond created a pocket...called a daydream or something like that, where my soul escaped to…” she sighed and looked down. Before she could continue to speak, Hannah finished her sentence. </p><p>“Before you could get pulled into the Black and White,” she whispered the horror on her face filled with some kind of disbelief. </p><p>At Emma’s nod, Xander took note of the fear that filled Paul’s eyes, making his stomach churn. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see John stiffen.</p><p>“How-” John muttered, swallowing hard, “How would you have ended up in the Black and White?”</p><p>“Rules changed,” Hannah whispered, “Webby marked us...wants us out…”</p><p>“But the daydream prevented that,” Emma finished for her, “My soul was in the pocket for what would have been about a minute in this world, though I don’t remember it at all...before…”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as she sighed and closed her eyes, scrubbing her hands over her face before Paul took them in his hands again, that same look of reverence and assurance in his gaze. </p><p>She sighed, “Before Paul somehow managed to pull me back.”</p><p>Paul’s eyes widened as he looked at Emma. She slowly looked back up at him, the two of them just staring at one another in stunned silence.</p><p>Before Xander could stop himself, a hoarse chuckle left him. Everyone in the room turned to him with a glare on their face before he managed to explain himself, shaking his head. </p><p>“I’ll be damned…”  he whispered, shaking his head with a small smile on his face, “Eurydice…”</p><p>John’s eyes widened and a small smile crossed his face as well. </p><p>The story of someone venturing into the underworld to retrieve the love of his life might have just had some semblance of a happy ending after all, under the assumption that they all got a happy ending. </p><p>Still, it was remarkable…</p><p>A pocket...outside of...whatever this Nightmare Time thing was, a pocket where her soul was able to escape death, while he managed to pull her back into life...it almost paralleled the myth but with a far less infuriating ending. The fact that Paul and Emma could do that for one another was extraordinary. But Xander understood it, if worse came to worse, he would do anything in his power to save John, even if he didn’t know he was doing it. In some ways, he supposed, they already had, when the anomalies were detected. Furthermore, this explained the reason why Emma was able to survive the most horrific of experiences, even before they knew bonds were capable of this. The seizures and death, all reversed within moments of it happening, the caves collapsing on her. In some ways, he figured that the red thread of fate wasn’t done with Paul and Emma yet. </p><p>Hannah smiled, “Bonds are strong, time’s not up…”</p><p>Emma swallowed and looked down, “She also said something about a box...and the game not being over yet…”</p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened, “Bad box…”</p><p>John leaned in, “What about it?” </p><p>“She said…” Emma whispered, looking down, her brow furrowed, “That we needed to find Hidgens...that he could help us, but I don’t get that, because he’s dead…”</p><p>“And he better stay that way,” Tom muttered begrudgingly, cradling his son closer to him. </p><p>“Still,” John muttered, leaning forward, one hand stroking through the finer hairs of his beard as he was deep in thought, “It makes you wonder why we would need him...and how dangerous this box is…”</p><p>“Bad box,” Hannah whispered, “Goat’s box. Bastard chosen.”</p><p>At the mention of the word ‘goat’, Paul, Lex, Ethan, Becky, and Tom all stiffened, leaving the others looking very confused. </p><p>“Goat?” John asked. </p><p>Tom nodded, “There have been rumors of what exactly Webby brought into this world...to describe what’s going on upstairs...and since Schaeffer forbade anyone to talk about it, ‘the Goat’ is one of them.” </p><p>“How many of them are there?” Lucy asked, her voice nervous as she piped up out of nowhere.</p><p>“Six total,” Tom nodded, “‘The spider’, which we know to be Webby… ‘the singer’, which I think is the blue slime lady that…” </p><p>He trailed off when he saw Paul shudder and grow pale. Xander pushed away the images of how terrible Paul had looked when Apatha had attempted to take him over again. He figured it was a blessing that they hadn’t needed to kill him, as Hidgens (or whatever had been masquerading as him) had insisted. </p><p>“What else?” Emma whispered. </p><p>“Well…” Becky began, speaking up for the first time since the meeting had begun, “There’s obviously Wiggly, who we think is being called ‘the creature’...”</p><p>“As he should be,” Ethan groaned, “Ugly-ass cthulhu mother-” </p><p>“‘The watcher’,” Becky cut him off, “‘The goat’, and ‘the smile’”</p><p>Emma laughed humorlessly, “It’s funny, they’ve all got these somewhat ominous names and then there’s just… ‘the goat’...kinda underwhelming.”</p><p>“He’s the one we don’t have many infirmary reports on,” Becky noted, “He’s elusive...usually we find people going into cardiac arrest after an encounter with Webby...or we have to make the call to let people with torn up bodies die after meeting the mobs, but the power of this ‘goat’...it’s elusive.” </p><p>“Bastard,” Hannah nodded, to which Lex shot her a look, “He is!” </p><p>Becky sighed, “Regardless, I’m fairly certain we’re not getting away from them anytime soon.” </p><p>“Agreed,” Xander sighed, before turning back to Emma, “Jane said we had to find Hidgens?” </p><p>Emma nodded, “Yeah, but she didn’t explain how or why. He was in the dream, and he didn’t even try to explain it.” </p><p>“Hmm…” Xander looked over at Hannah, “How dangerous is this box?” </p><p>“Like Pandora…” Hannah sighed, “Only for one person...prison...very dangerous.”</p><p>While the second half of the statement hadn’t made much sense, the first part had made a great deal of sense to Xander. While they were on the topic of greek myths being paralleled with this group of people, Hannah had essentially meant that somewhere in Hatchetfield, there was a box that would unleash terror on what remained, which couldn’t have meant anything good. The idea made Xander’s stomach churn. </p><p>He turned to John, “What are you thinking?” </p><p>John sighed, “I think we wait...but be vigilant. We’re still dealing with forces we don’t understand. Forces we cannot hope to control. If we were to jump into this, we might make a grave error that could jeopardize what’s left of us. That’s not an option.” </p><p>Hannah nodded, “Waiting is good...not time yet, anyway.” </p><p>“What do you mean, Hannah?” Lex asked softly, her eyes filled with confusion. </p><p>Hannah sighed, “Plan is set...we need to play along if we want to win.”</p><p>“But do we?” Lucy piped up, “Do we want to win?” </p><p>Hannah shook her head, her eyes filled with a form of conflict and understanding that Xander had only seen in John’s eyes when he had to make the tougher calls in missions, “Win or die…”</p><p>On her words, it was like a collective shudder was sent throughout the room. They knew that Hannah was scarcely wrong, and if she said that those were the terms of Webby’s game, then that was how they’d be forced to play, whether they liked it or not. Hatchetfield had always been an unwilling player in the game the Beings of the Black and White had loved to play. A game where the rules and odds were twisted against them. A game where it was unlikely that they’d win. </p><p>Still, they’d have to play. </p><p>If they ever wanted a chance at survival, they needed to partake in the cruel game of the universe, and as they sat there, all of them looking at one another, Xander realized they’d all come to a silent agreement. </p><p>They’d fight. </p><p>Even if there was no guarantee they would win, they would. </p><p>They had to.  </p><p>---</p><p>The ambient sounds of the infirmary had become like white noise as Paul propped his head up in his hands, half-asleep as he remained in one of the comfy chairs in Emma’s infirmary room. </p><p>The day had been exhausting. </p><p>After they’d been moved from the quarantine bay to the formal infirmary, Dr. Hallmark had attended to the cuts and gashes that still marked his body from the day before, when Schaeffer had taken her wrath out on him. Emma had been in the room as Hallmark had stitched and bandaged the more severe wounds up, and he’d been unable to look away from her as a subtle kind of horror had settled over her face when she’d seen how badly he’d been beaten, making him internally admonish himself for worrying her. He’d been released, thankfully, and had been given permission to stay in the infirmary with her. Not that he’d want to be separated from her, especially after all of the chaos and pain of the day before. </p><p>Between worrying about Schaeffer discovering them (which she had), and Ethan. Who’d managed to get the medical attention he needed, and was going to be fine, and still feeling the rapture of Emma being back with him, he’d been emotionally exhausted. </p><p>Emma had been allowed to go to the actual restroom (with the aid of a nurse), rather than using the undignified commode that most of the infirmary rooms possessed, which was why he was left alone in his thoughts, worrying internally that he’d hallucinated his entire reunion with her, and at any moment he’d wake up and still be in that desolate room, Schaeffer’s operative’s waiting for her call to beat on him more. </p><p>He winced at the memory, the several stitched-up gashes on his back, and the one on his cheek, making him sit up somewhat rigidly, almost afraid of disturbing them and therefore tearing them. Originally, he’d not thought he’d needed any medical attention, his prerogative remaining solely with Emma, Ethan, Tim, John, Xander, and the new woman (though, it was mostly with Emma, as the idea of being separated from her was horrifying). </p><p>They’d been informed that Emma would spend about a week in the infirmary after she’d had the second surgery. Since they’d had to go in and remove dead tissue and try to prevent her from going back into sepsis, their top priority was pain control as well as trying to get occupational and physical therapy started. Xander had said he was going to see if there was anybody in the technical department who could start some form of temporary prosthesis for her to work with, but that would only come when it was determined that she could get back on her feet.</p><p>Until then, he decided he would take leave from his job in the information and intelligence department, and would stick with her for as long as he could. For as long as she would have him. </p><p>Just ten, the door creaked open and Becky pushed open the door while Emma rolled in, looking mildly disgruntled and tired. </p><p>“If you need anything, let me know?” Becky smiled softly at them, “If not, I’m sure Paul can help you?” </p><p>He looked up and nodded. </p><p>Emma smiled softly at him before looking up at Becky with a smile, “We’ll be fine, thanks, Becky.” </p><p>Becky smiled softly at them, as she helped Emma to sit back up on the bed, Paul standing to see if he could be of any help, but just remaining there when he realized that they had it She reattached the bag of fluids and pain medication to her IV as she continued to speak, “There’s some extra pillows and blankets in the cupboard, if you need them. Get some rest, though...you guys deserve it.” </p><p>Emma looked up at Becky, biting down on her lower lip, her eyes filled with a soft gratitude, “Thanks, Becky...for everything…”</p><p>For a moment, Becky looked as if she was taken aback, but she seemed to understand Emma’s true meaning. Paul certainly did. During the time when they’d thought the group to be dead, and all of them left behind, Becky Barnes had been a true hero, never ceasing in her work to save lives, even when the world dictated that there wouldn’t be many they’d save in the end. Becky had shown true courage through all that time, and had never deviated from her beliefs. So, when Emma was thanking her, Paul could see the meaning behind it, and he had to agree. </p><p>Becky smiled, “It’s the least I could do...get some rest, both of you.” </p><p>With that, she softly closed the door, leaving Paul and Emma to their own devices. </p><p>For a moment, they just sat there, staring at one another, not knowing what to say or do. After being separated for so long, you would think they’d know exactly what they wanted to say to one another, but they didn’t. </p><p>“H-hey,” he whispered, unsure of what else to say as he felt something inside him break again as he stared at her. </p><p>Here she was. </p><p>Alive. </p><p>Right in front of him. </p><p>All the words seemed to run dry at that point. </p><p>She was a little bruised and tired, but she was still Emma. She was still that beautiful, wonderful, biting, witty woman that he’d fallen in love with. As he stared at her, at the soft way she regarded him, her tiredness not betraying the spark that still very much remained in her eyes, even after all the pain and suffering that she’d endured, he found himself falling in love with her all over again. </p><p>Not that it hadn’t been that way before she’d ‘died’. </p><p>Every single moment he’d spent with Emma made him feel like he was falling in love with ehr over and over again, but there was something about this moment that it truly hit him that she was there. Alive and breathing. She wasn’t a hallucination, or a conjuring of his grieving mind.</p><p>The fact that it was that kind of love they had for one another that kept them both standing there...it made his head spin.</p><p>She was there. </p><p>She smirked softly at him, “Hey…” she sighed and looked up at him, smiling softly at him, “So, you gonna lay down and cuddle with me, or what?” </p><p>He found himself releasing a tearful chuckle at her bluntness, part of the dam that had built itself inside of him breaking as he wiped at his eyes. He managed a small tired nod, before gently and gingerly sitting down beside her on the bed, his eyes never leaving her. </p><p>For a moment, they just continued to look at one another, when she raised a hand to his cheek, her fingers gingerly tracing one of the stitched-up gashes. Rather than preemptively flinching, he found himself closing his eyes melting into her cool palm, savoring just how wonderful her touch felt. </p><p>He opened his eyes to look at her again, and saw that her big brown eyes were filled with tears, making his heart break. </p><p>Without any words, she pulled herself forward, burying herself in his chest, releasing silent sobs as she grappled at him desperately, never wanting to let go. As she muffled her sobs into his shirt, he found himself crying as hot tears streamed down his face, tightly but gently holding her as he slowly and carefully shifted them so they were leaning against the wall at the head of the bed, trying not to cause her leg any more pain. </p><p>“It’s okay,” he whispered, “I’ve got you…”</p><p>She shook her head, her words muffled into his shirt, “I got you first…”</p><p>He chuckled lightly, the tears dripping down his face as he held her tighter, relishing in the warmth and familiarity that seemed to envelope them as he held her closer. </p><p>“Yeah…” he whispered, “Yeah, you did.”</p><p>“Look at us,” she sniffed, the tears still pouring from her eyes, before she could continue her sentence, another bout of sobs released itself. </p><p>“It’s okay to cry, Em,” he whispered, “God knows we need it…” </p><p>“Y-Yeah…” she sniffed, “But fuck that!”</p><p>She tried to push herself up in a sitting position, trying to stifle her cries with deep breaths, trying to force herself to stop crying. He sighed as he recognized this. Even before the world had gone to hell, Emma always indulged her almost child-like stubbornness, allowing herself to be tough when it was completely okay to cry. While he’d done his best to do what he could to tell her it was okay for her to cry around him, she still refused to voice whatever was really bothering her...usually this form of stubbornness only happened when multiple things were bothering her at once. He glanced down at the thick cast that held what was left of her left leg and noticed how she looked at it staring down at it with disgust. His heart broke for her as he realized how much she was holding back. He’d seen her do this before, but never before had it looked this bad. </p><p>“Em…” he whispered, unsure of how to word this without him blatantly telling her that her attempts to stop herself from crying were doing more harm than good.</p><p>“Yeah?” she hummed in response, wiping at her eyes and looking over her shoulder at him, managing to prop herself up on one very shaky arm. </p><p>He sighed and looked at her, opening his arms to her, “C’mere…”</p><p>At first, though she looked like she was about to hit him with her usual ‘Paul, I’m fine’ or ‘Okay, what’s bothering you, you big sap?’ she looked taken aback. But it didn’t take long for her to move back into his arms, wrapping herself around him. </p><p>He sighed tearfully as he held her, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the feeling of her in his arms again. She buried her face into his neck and held him tight. He felt like he might weep at the realization that he wouldn’t be waking up to a cold side of the bed any longer, if life would permit it.</p><p>“Hey, Paul?” She whispered.</p><p>“Yeah?” He used his free hand to wipe at his eyes before returning it to her back to run comforting circles over her back.</p><p>She smiled and looked up at him, her fingers gently tracing his face as she cupped his jaw, her eyes tired as her other hand tugged the blankets and sheets over them as they almost silently came to an agreement that the time to sleep was now, “I love you.”</p><p>His cheeks suddenly began to hurt from how big he was smiling. He could have cried with how wonderful it felt to hear her say that. Without hesitating, he moved his head down to press a kiss to her hair, the two of them not letting go of one another as they got settled in the somewhat scratchy sheets of the hospital bed. </p><p>“I love you too, Em,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears again as she smiled up at him. </p><p>Without thinking, she leaned upward and met his lips softly, cupping his face gently and carefully so she wouldn’t tug on the IV’s that were still attached, angling herself so her cast didn’t cause him any grief. He couldn’t bring himself to care, she was home. The taste and softness of her lips was something he never wanted to forget. He’d spent so long at the mercy of his subconscious, taunting him with images of a day when Emma would come home that reality insisted would never come, and yet, there they were.  </p><p>“Oh, and another thing, Paul?” she smirked up at him as he leaned over to switch off the small lap that was on the small bedside table. </p><p>He smiled down at her, “What?” </p><p>“Mark my words, Matthews,” she said seriously, meeting his lips gently again, “As soon as I get out of here, and this fucking cast is gone, you bet your ass we are making up for lost time.”</p><p>He guffawed into her hair as he lay back down. She propped herself up on one arm, her elbow placed against his shoulder as she looked at him seriously through the darkness. </p><p>“I’m serious, man!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide, “You wouldn't<em> believe </em>how touch starved you get after being in a cave for four months…” </p><p>He laughed lightly, as she settled back down against his collarbone, nestling comfortably in his arms without jeopardizing the medical equipment she was still somewhat hooked up to, “I believe you, Em...I believe you.”</p><p>“Good,” she nodded snuggling closer to her, getting comfortable as the curves and edges of her body seemed to fit perfectly with his as they both found their positions of comfort and sleep began to tug at them. Just before he closed his eyes, he glanced back down at her, gently pushing a fallen curl out of her face. Her gently closed eyelids fluttered open and peered at him in the darkness. She smirked up at him, “What?”</p><p>The small glints of light from the infirmary outside the door highlighted the features of her face. Features that would make the most astonishing and lovely portrait, if he had the talent and time to paint. If he were to paint her, it would capture her wildness, her gentleness that few were privy, to her wit, her perfections, her imperfections which only made her more beautiful. God, if he were to paint her, it would be like painting a hurricane of color and life. So much brightness in such an earthly thing, full of excitement and life that made his heart leap in his chest the longer he thought of it. </p><p>And he was hers. </p><p>She was willing to call him hers. </p><p>Even after falling in love with her years before, the idea made his head spin still. </p><p>“Nothing,” he smiled, “I just love you…”</p><p>“How many times do you think we’ve gotta say it?” she questions, smiling gently up at him. </p><p>“Like you said,” he shrugged, cutting himself off with a small yawn, “We gotta make up for lost times.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes and closed them again, nesting closer into his warmth, “You’re a dork.”</p><p>“<em> Your </em> dork,” he corrected. </p><p>“Mm-hmm,” she nodded against his chest, “Damn straight.”</p><p>They were both asleep within moments after that, nestled close together, savoring the warmth and comfort that they’d both been craving for so long. And for only a moment, there was silence. There were no aching backs from nights of sleeping on shitty mattresses over rocks and stone. There were no lunatic generals out to kill them. There was no pain that they felt. Only warmth and welcoming. Like falling into the familiar rhythm of a dance learned centuries before. </p><p>And for the first time since they’d  been torn apart, they both fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, clinging onto one another as if they were one another’s lifelines, which, in a way they were.</p><p>And there was peace. </p><p>---</p><p>The landscape of the daydream Emma and Paul had created was just as serene as the soul of Jane Perkins stared out into the field from the porch of a house that she’d once wanted for herself. A house that her sister had unwittingly built for the soul of Jane once the daydream was created.  Her dark eyes scanned the flowers blowing in the warm breeze. The landscape was peaceful...almost happy. As if the creation of this world by the complimentary souls were trying to tell her that in the world above, all was peaceful. </p><p>The sound of footsteps against the neat floorboards of the expansive porch made her realize that she wasn’t the only one who’d decided to turn up to admire the peace exhibited by the dreamscape around them. </p><p>She didn’t need to turn around to know that she was joined by the soul of Henry Hidgens, standing there in silence as the other soul who’d been offered refuge by Emma and Paul’s creation joined her in staring out at the field. </p><p>“Peace?” the old man’s raspy, yet dramatic voice asked her. Almost dubious of what was going on in the world above. </p><p>Jane sighed as she gave him the only answer she could. </p><p>“For now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ethan needs hugs.</p><p>God bless Xander for being the one who takes notes at meetings.</p><p>In other news, I am still very much in love with ✨❤️Paulkins❤️✨...<br/>(in case you didn't know, they're in love- it's almost disgusting)</p><p> </p><p>But will I let them be happy for a while? That's the question. </p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like!! I know this was sorta a filler (not really if you count the briefing), but things will pick up soon!! I'm really glad you guys took the time to read this!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I know the worlds kinda a crazy place right now, just please keep moving forward and take care of yourselves!!! Be kind to yourself and others and stay safe!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Well, that escalated quickly: the chapter</p><p>NOTE: This chapter takes a little over a month after the last chapter took place (yes, I let them be happy for over a month)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song ’Love Song’  by 311 (Paulkins Vibes: the song)</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!:implied fun times in the first section (if you know what I mean-but its mostly morning-after stuff and kissing, so nothing graphic), burns, fear, Ted, injury, goat bastard</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: January 23rd, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Emma shifted comfortably in the softness and warmth of the sheets welcomed her into wakefulness. </p><p>She smiled to herself as she closed her eyes, squinting from the golden light cast by the simulated window, allowing her to know that morning had come, even if it wasn’t the real light. </p><p>From behind her, the soft sound of snoring made her smile, and a pair of warm hands reached out and wrapped around her bare skin, pulling her flush against him.</p><p>She rolled over on her other shoulder, ignoring the slight pang of pain in her residual limb, which had lost its cast five or six weeks before, to face the man sharing her bed, his arms still wrapped protectively and lovingly around her. </p><p>He was still dead asleep from the looks of it, his eyes closed gently shut, hiding the bright blueness. His hair fell in his face, shadowing one of his eyes from view, and would be tough for him to comb out once he was up and ready to go to work without his hair sticking up everywhere. She’d probably have to help him with that later (and most definitely NOT because she wanted to run her hands through his wonderfully soft hair). His brows were furrowed as per usual, and his lips slightly pursed, making her laugh quietly and try really hard to resist the urge from running her thumb over them. </p><p>Instead, she extricated her hand from where it was trapped between them and gently brushed her fingers through his hair, moving it out of the way so she could see the face of the man she loved more than anything more clearly. He sighed in his sleep and nestled closer to her as she smiled and gazed at them. </p><p>Five months ago, she didn’t think they’d ever get any mornings like this ever again. </p><p>Mornings when she would just be able to look at him and remember that he was hers and she was his. Mornings when she remembered that they had each other, forever and always.  No matter how shitty life would become, they would stay together, even when they were apart. </p><p>God, what had she done to deserve him? </p><p>Of course, that had been the question on her mind since they’d started officially dating, but in moments after they’d gone through shit like what Schaeffer had put them through she was reminded of why she stayed with him, why she felt so drawn to him.  </p><p>That first night, when they’d both cuddled up and fallen asleep together for the first time in months on that too-small bed, she’d gotten the best night of sleep she’d had since before they were torn apart. Even though they’d both been contorted in positions that couldn’t have been comfortable, she and he had both slept like babies. Then she’d gotten to come home, and then there were nights like the night before, and mornings after, like this one where she would just wake up to see his wonderful face. </p><p>She’d never been a morning person. Always a night owl, never early to rise, which had often made her late for school in her youth, but she would gladly wake up at the crack of dawn if it meant she could have moments like this, where she could just look at him and feel an overwhelming feeling of peace. She didn’t even care about the headache that was building on the left side of her face that was going to make her day a living hell.  Of course, in the climate of the world they were living in, she felt like it might have been a fantasy, but every single moment was priceless to her now. There was no price she could put on just the mere sight of him. His smile. His laugh. The way she could get him completely unravelled with a comment that would turn him adorably red. Hell, the mere sight of him sleeping peacefully was far more beautiful than any Guatemalan sunset she’d ever seen. With him, she felt this sense of freedom that she’d once thought only Guatemala, and her ambitions to travel the world, could give her, and yet, this disgustingly domestic picture of them just laying in bed together was something that made her feel like she was suddenly the best version of herself. </p><p>He hummed softly under his breath as she gently traced her fingers over the newly-formed scar on his cheek, where Schaeffer’s wrath had left its mark. Fifteen stitches had been what he’d needed to seal it up, with as big as he’d been cut, and now what remained was a thin line that ran from just below his eye to his cheekbone, almost making him look like someone had attempted to contour his face with a knife. He didn’t like the fact that it had scarred, saying that it reminded Bill (who’d cried once he’d seen Emma alive and found out what Schaeffer had done to Paul) too much of his mistake and made his face look weird. Emma, however, thought that the collection of scars that he’d accumulated since being pulled into the Black and White in the past lifetime were absolutely beautiful. Though the ways he’d gotten them were somewhat painful reminders of what they’d survived through, she’d never thought they’d made him any less beautiful. In fact, she’d done her best to make him feel less self-conscious about them. Some nights, when he’d wake up from a nightmare, and stare at himself in the mirror, looking at each and every scar like they were horrifying abhorrences, she would softly and wordlessly come up behind him, wrap her arms around him and let him cry while she pressed soft kisses to each of them.</p><p>He’d done the same for her, when he would find her awake and staring down at her leg, almost feeling the realization hit her like a ten-ton weight every time she realized that her limb was no longer there. That the pain she almost always was in was the fact that her nerves were just trying to convince themselves otherwise. Sometimes, he’d find her with her hand clamped over her mouth as she stifled the tears that were streaming their lava-like rivers down her face, and merely wrap her in his arms gently, his fingers tracing over the patchwork of scars that made her leg look more like an old quilt then what was left of a leg, allowing her to focus on the softness of her touch and not the pain. He would press gentle kisses into her hair and make her feel like she was comfortable until they both would fall asleep in one another’s arms again. He never made her feel like her leg was ugly, or that it made her any less beautiful. If anything, it actually made him look at her with awe and made her feel like she was suddenly the strongest woman alive.</p><p>They still had bad nights, of course. Oftentimes, she would wake up screaming as she found herself under all the rocks and stones all over again hearing nobody attempt to get her pout as she screamed and cried for help, the realization of her body snapping in several places as the rocks sought to snuff out her life. Sometimes she would see Paul there, in the caves, him being the one the rocks would try to drag under and murder as she was powerless to stop it. Sometimes she’d be digging through the rocks and find his bleeding, dead body in the rocks, his eyes filled with fear preserved on his bruised and bloodied face. She would wake up to find his arms around her, soothing her with assurances that he was right there, that he was never going to leave her. Other times it was him who would wake up crying, sometimes offering no explanation as she opened her arms to him and let him wordlessly release the stress and fear that surrounded him.  Sometimes he’d tell her that he blamed himself for what had happened to her, Tim, and the others, and though she’d told him it wasn’t, he still did. However, whichever one of them it was that woke up feeling the weight of the trauma and pain take its toll, they were always there for one another</p><p> As she gently ran her fingers along the small line, he murmured something under his breath and cracked open one sleepy eye, a small smile crossing his face, making her heart melt. </p><p>Though his voice was heavy with sleep, she was able to make out his whispered words perfectly. </p><p>“Morning, Love,” he smiled, his eyes falling shut. </p><p>She hummed in response, allowing her own tired eyes to fall shut as she pulled herself closer to him, relishing in the warmth and softness of his bare skin against her own. </p><p>“I don’t want to do work today,” she groaned in her tiredness.</p><p>“Me neither,” he hummed.</p><p>“I don’t think I have PT, though,” she muttered, reminding herself that <em> Goddammit, Emma, you need to get yourself a calendar.  </em></p><p>He made a small noise that sounded like a tired chuckle, “Well...I mean, I’m fairly certain you got the <em> physical </em>part last night, all things considered.”</p><p>She rolled away from him with a groan, “Shut uuuup.”</p><p>She could feel him smirking into her skin as he wrapped his arms around her again, burying his face in her shoulder, “I thought it was funny.” </p><p>“It’s too early for you to try and be smooth,” she hummed, relishing in the feeling of him softly kissing her shoulder. </p><p>“I think you’re being unfair,” he murmured into her skin. </p><p>“And I think you’re trying too hard,” she laughed, reaching over her shoulder to run a hand through his hair.</p><p>He hummed in contemplation, “Fair enough.” </p><p>Before she could complain about going to work again, she soon found herself on her back again, looking up at him, smiling happily and sleepily over her, his eyes looking down at her with a saccharine smile that seemed to fill her heart with butterflies. </p><p>    She reached up and cupped his face as he leered over her, relishing in the warmth and comfort that radiated off of him, ready to pull him against her lips when she stopped to stare into those eyes again. That soft shade of blue that regarded her with so much love and admiration she’d never thought herself to be worthy of. That shade of blue that reminded her of the clearest of lakes, the bluest of skies. The shades of blue that people would find only in paintings or the stuff of fantasy, seemingly bringing worlds to life with every stroke of color. Almost like a flame’s tail with its intensity, but soft and gentle, like a calm sea after a storm. Like the lapping of waves against her toes as they sank into the warm sand on a distant shore. She could spend all day staring into those eyes, getting lost in their beauty, in the way she felt like she’d been blessed with the privilege of staring into them like this. In some ways, she thanked whoever had put them together in the universe for giving him such eyes. In some ways, she was reminded of- nope...that was a dream, or some fabrication of that pocket she was in. </p><p>Before she could let her mind run away with the messiness and romantic thoughts that were building itself up in her mind, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smirked up at him, “You gonna kiss me, nerd, or what?” </p><p>Revelling in the way he blushed furiously, she only had to prop herself up slightly before his lips met hers softly. She smiled into it, loving the feeling of his soft lips on her own chapped ones, she closed her eyes, savoring this feeling. Savoring this moment with him. </p><p>After a while, he started to deepen it, leaning down closer to her, her arms wrapping more tightly around his back and holding him closer. His warmth was almost overwhelming as she deepened it, teasing his full bottom lip lightly with her teeth, making him let out a small gasp. </p><p>They broke away to breathe and she smirked up at him, her fingers running subconsciously through the finer hairs at the base of his neck. </p><p>“Careful,” she teased, “If you keep doing this, you know I’ll make us both late.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s the idea,” he joked, leaning in for another eager kiss. </p><p>God, he was so affectionate. Back before she’d met him, the idea of having such an affectionate person in her life that she’d <em> allow </em>to act like this around her would have made her want to turn and run the other way. She would have hated this. But now, she couldn’t get enough of it. </p><p>He broke away from he lips again and she let out a small breathless chuckle, “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea…” she smiled,  meeting his lips briefly again before breaking away to continue her thought “But what might be a bad idea is me having to come up with an excuse on the fly about why I was late to Xander again.”</p><p>“How many times do you think he and John have been late?” He mused, still <em> very </em>into the idea of kissing her again and again, and maybe turning it into something more (which she wasn’t opposed to...she just knew that an alleged plumbing issue was not something that would convince Xander of why she was late).</p><p>“With the way they’re obsessed with time,” she breathed, running her hands through his hair as his kisses began to trail down her jawline, “They’re probably never late.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” he nodded, “But don’t you-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He was cut off by the alarm clock on his side table which demanded his attention. With a small faux-annoyed sigh, he sat up, stretching his body over his side of the bed to reach it and silence the loud annoyance. She sat up, the sheets and blankets not covering anything, and even though he could probably only see her out of his peripher, she smirked as she saw him blush. She reached for his T-shirt, which had somehow managed to get snagged on the handle of one of the drawers on her bedside table. She pulled it over herself as he turned to look at her, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. </p><p>“Well, you know what that means,” she sighed in false annoyance, “Up and at em’, Nerd.” </p><p>He sighed exaggeratedly, “I <em> guess.” </em></p><p>He stood up from the bed, wearing a pair of shorts that he’d thrown on in the middle of the night (she only knew that because she now noticed every time he got out of bed), and walked over to the side of the room where her wheelchair was folded and tucked away, alongside some crutches and a prototype prosthetic, she usually used on physical therapy days (since the socket was still a little hard for her to use regularly). </p><p>“What are we thinking, babe?” He smiled over at her, “Leg, crutches, or wheels?” </p><p>“Crutches,” she nodded, rubbing at her sleepy eyes, “You know I’ve got to start doing that for myself, right?”</p><p>“I know,” he sighed as he tossed the crutches in her direction, “I just like being helpful.”</p><p>She smiled at the earnest nature in his tone. Since she’d lost her leg, he’d tried to be as helpful as he could be, making things as easy for her as possible. Even though he knew she didn’t have an affinity for the easy, he liked to be helpful in any way she would allow, always asking questions when she’d go to the doctors to check up on her leg, always helping her carry things so she wouldn’t fall over as a result of trying to carry too much, and at the base of it all, motivating her to get back to full strength. He’d never made her feel like because she was lacking a leg, she was incapable of doing things. No, that wasn’t the meaning behind his insistence to help at all. He just wanted an excuse to be with her...to stay. It had taken a lot for them to go back to work and work for their shift’s entirety without either of them going insane. Of course, it had been like it had been once they’d gotten him back, but different. In some ways they both still had a paranoia that they’d be separated again, but they’d worked through it, and worked hard not to let that fear consume them, allowing them to get through the work day in focus and return home with one another at the end of the day, the worry itself melting away. It had taken a whole lot of time, but they’d done it, and while it was still rough they’d get through it, she knew. </p><p>A few moments later, after she’d managed to get dressed for the day and wandered out to their makeshift kitchen where Paul, also dressed for work for the day, was making coffee (which smelled far better than what they would produce at Beanies).</p><p>“That smells fucking fantastic,” she sighed, settling down into her small chair as he walked over with two nondescript mugs setting them down at the table. </p><p>“Figured we needed the caffeine,” he chuckled.</p><p>She nodded as she brought the mug, which was blowing it’s hot steam into her face, to her lips, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee. Although it burnt her tongue slightly, she smiled at the fact that Paul had been considerate enough to do something like that. Even before they’d started officially dating and she’d go over to his house, he would be the one to make the coffee, feeling awkward about asking her to make coffee, or her just making it out of impulse. Besides, his coffee was much better than the shit they served at Beanies, saliva-free too. </p><p>Just before he sat down, she smiled at him, “Hey, Paul?” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p> She raised a single finger and tapped her lips. Getting the message he blushed and moved closer to her. She had to stifle a smirk as she watched him struggle to lean down so that he was eye-level with her, the tall beanpole that he was, and smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. </p><p>When they broke away she smiled up at him, internally cursing him for making her feel like she was a middle schooler with a stupid crush. </p><p>“Morning, Paul,” she whispered. </p><p>“Good morning, Em.”</p><p>
  <em> A good fucking morning indeed. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Ted sighed as he packed up the cardboard box of what few items he’d been allowed to have at his desk, hating the fact that moving day just <em> happened </em> to be today. </p><p>    Since information was released that the former General of PEIP, John Mc-something-or-rather was alive and had been returned to his rightful place as the head of PEIP, a great deal of the Orwell-ideas that the psycho bitch from before had thankfully been torn down, meaning Ted was no longer obligated to work. </p><p>    <em> Thank God for that.  </em></p><p>He still lived in the small curtained-off area, but he’d heard rumors about some other chambers that had been recently discovered would be made into some form of formidable housing for other people, so maybe things would get better, in spite of how shitty his life was. </p><p>Sadly, the booze hadn’t been returned to the commissary yet, but he figured baby steps were the name of the game. </p><p>The work day had come to an end, thankfully, putting an end to the final month notice that he’d put on his job, and while having a job with PEIP did allow for some certain protections and privileges, he didn’t care. He was essentially being given an early retirement. </p><p>He glanced across the hall where the information department workers were filing out, taking note of the few who’d also decided to leave. Some people were carrying their belongings out in boxes, others used what looked like repurposed trash cans, either way, there weren't many of them. He figured those who’d decided to remain were those lame people with no lives, who depended on work to give their lives meaning. </p><p>Which is why it was no surprise for him to see Bill and Paul walking out of the information offices empty-handed. </p><p>He stifled an eye roll as he pushed open the doors to the tech offices and made his way towards them, hoping to eavesdrop or butt into the conversation whenever he saw fit.</p><p>“Bill, for the last time,” Paul was laughing nervously, “That was over a month ago, you don’t have to-”</p><p>“I know,” Bill sighed, “But it doesn’t change what happened.”</p><p>“Hey, man,” Paul assured him with a small smile, “You thought you were doing the right thing...and let's be honest, Schaeffer was manipulating us all.”</p><p>“Doesn’t change that she could have killed you,” Bill said, looking Paul up and down seriously, “I’m serious, man, had I known-”</p><p>“But you didn’t,” Paul sighed, “And it’s fine now. I’m okay...everyone’s okay...Emma’s back-” </p><p>Ted scoffed once he realized what it was that they were talking about. A little over a month ago, shortly before the real general returned and made life underground slightly less shitty, Bill had apparently gone to General Psycho and told her that he thought Paul was acting suspicious, and as a result, Paul was arrested and had the shit beaten out of him while they’d been told he was on psychological leave. It wasn’t until Paul returned to work almost two weeks later with stitched-up cuts and ugly-looking bruises, and the real General announced to the populace that General Shay (or something like that) had been lying to them and convicted of the attempted murder of himself, his husband, and two civilians (which, actually included Emma, now left-legless and just as mean) that Bill realized that he’d made a grave error. Paul had come back to work looking like shit, but was happier than he’d ever been, knowing that Emma was alive again (yippee-skippy), but the way the man appeared as though he’d been torn apart had done nothing to calm Bill’s annoyingly persistent conscience. This, of course, had prompted almost a month-worth of Bill trying to make it up to Paul, despite the man’s assurances to Bill that he’d done nothing wrong. Of course, Ted’s personal antagonism about what he’d done hadn’t helped Bill feel any better, but that was the point. Watching Bill feel worse about himself was hilarious to him. </p><p>Paul turned to Ted and sighed, looking less exhausted and honestly, more alive than he had when they'd thought Emma was dead, “Do you have something you want to say, Ted?” </p><p>“No,” he shook his head, “Just listening. </p><p>“That’s a first,” Bill muttered under his breath before his eyes fell on the box of items in Ted’s arms, “Leaving work?” </p><p>Ted nodded, “Yeah...and if you guys knew what was good for you, you would too.” </p><p>Paul’s brow furrowed, almost as if he was genuinely confused by what Ted was saying, “What do you mean?” </p><p>“Paul, c’mon,” Ted scoffed, “We work with the military, we’re gonna be dragged deeper into a fight that’s not our own.” </p><p>“This is our fight,” Paul muttered, “This-”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ted interrupted, “This became our fight the second they stepped in our world...I’ve heard the spiel, Paul.”</p><p>“Then, why don’t you understand?” Bill said, his eyes looking confused and vaguely angry. </p><p>“Why don’t you understand this isn’t the 1940’s anymore?”  Ted shot back, “There’s not enough patriotism or testosterone to make us believe we’ll win. The world’s over, okay? I’m gonna live my life the way I want to. And if you were smart, you’d do the same.” </p><p>“I just want to give Alice her best chance,” Bill said, his voice shaky as he stared at Ted in an annoyingly sincere way, “That’s the best way to be spending the time,” he stared Ted up and down, almost glaring at him, “The best way to use my life…”</p><p>Ted scoffed again, “What life? We’re all just waiting to die!”</p><p>Before Bill could respond, his fists shaking by his side in anger, Paul jumped in, “Okay, knock it off…” he ran a hand through his hair before turning to Ted, “You’re sure you don’t want to stay...we could really use you.” </p><p>A lie. Ted knew it. Anybody who’d worked with him for over a month knew that he lacked the resolve and ethic to actually do something considered worthwhile.</p><p>Ted shook his head, “No you couldn’t...now, if you don’t mind I’m-”</p><p>He didn’t get to finish when something caught Paul’s attention, his eyes brightening as a soft smile crossed his face. </p><p>“Um...hold that thought,” he whispered before he walked away from their small group, “Excuse me for a moment.”</p><p>Ted turned just in time to see Paul traverse across the hallway to meet Emma, steadying herself on crutches. Though she still lacked her left leg, or any formidable prosthetic that would make her life easier, she looked much healthier than she had when he’d first seen the couple after their return. Her eyes sparkled as Paul looked down at her, the most disgusting form of affection and softness in the man’s eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, muttering something to her that made them both giggle like teenagers, making Ted roll his eyes. </p><p>“Hey!” he yelled out obnoxiously, ignoring Bill’s glare at him and elbow colliding with Ted’s arm, “You know that’s how you get diseases, right?” </p><p>Emma didn’t pull back from Paul’s lips, and instead removed one of her hands from the handle from one of her crutches to flip him off, to which Bill stifled a small laugh, watching the couple with an utmost fondness. Out of the corner of his eye, Ted could have sworn that he could see Bill shooting him a warning glare, almost telling him not to mess with their moment. </p><p>When Emma and he were done playing tonsil-hockey, Paul turned back to them, taking Emma’s small work bag from her, clearly having no intention to return to the conversation, “Um...sorry, guys, but-”</p><p>“It’s fine!” Bill laughed, the most annoyingly genuine tone in his voice, “Go on ahead! But we’re still on for dinner next week?”</p><p>“Of course!” Emma smiled, looking happier than Ted had ever thought the small barista capable of, “Say hi to Alice and Deb for me, okay?” </p><p>“Will do!” Bill nodded, “Have a nice evening!” </p><p>“Thanks, Bill,” Paul smiled, “See you later.” </p><p>With that, Ted could only watch as Paul and Emma made their way down the hallway, inevitably returning to the residential quarters. He fought against a bitter pang in his stomach as he saw how happy they both were. They’d both seen so much shit, and yet in one another’s company it seemed as if their worlds alone were made of sunshine and rainbows. He pushed away the thoughts of Jenny as Bill sighed. </p><p>“They really are in love, huh?” Bill sighed, a happy smile on his face as they both watched the two disappear from sight. </p><p>Ted stifled a small laugh, “Yeah...like you’d know what that looks like.”</p><p> Bill whirled on him, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” </p><p>“Bill, c’mon,” Ted laughed, “Everyone knows how it went down with your ex. We all know you haven’t gotten laid...probably since Alice happened...I mean...you think <em> you </em>of all people would know what love looks like?”</p><p>When Ted looked up at Bill, he saw that Bill wasn’t the amazingly hilarious shade of anger that Ted had loved to draw out of the man. Instead, the man was stone faced, staring at him with the blankest of expressions. <br/>    Still, Ted laughed, trying to draw out Bill’s anger, but was met by none. </p><p>“You know,” the man said, his voice angry, but quiet, not in the way that was fun to hear, “I feel sorry for you.” </p><p>Ted laughed, “What? Why-”</p><p>“I think you’re sad,” Bill spoke through gritted teeth, “And lonely…I think you might have once been capable of love, but you never got it back. You try to make up for it with sex, but it never fills the void, does it? And for that, you decide to take out how miserable you feel on other people.”</p><p>Ted was taken aback by the man’s words, “Now wait just a-”</p><p>“No!” Bill cut him off, his voice shaky as he refused to break eye contact with Ted, “<em> You </em> wait. You can’t just let people like Paul and Emma be happy, can you? The sight of them being happy makes you feel sick, because you know you’ll never have that for yourself...and you want to blame the rest of the world for it. Well, <em> Ted, </em>didn’t you ever think that maybe it’s your fault?”</p><p>“What the hell are you-”</p><p>“You know what I mean,” Bill spoke, “I’d like to say that maybe somewhere out there in this world there’s a perfect someone for you, but every single day I am discouraged from believing it.”</p><p>Ted couldn’t even think of anything to say as Bill continued to speak. </p><p>“Just...let others be happy, and keep your nose out of their <em> fucking </em>lives,” Bill sighed, keeping his voice eerily quiet, “Maybe one day you’ll realize you can be happy for yourself without getting your hands in theirs.” </p><p>Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, headed towards his own apartment, leaving Ted, shaking and furious. </p><p>Before he could mutter any curses, or utter the fact that he would have liked a cigarette or some tequila, he stomped off, Bill’s words echoing in his ears. </p><p>What did Bill know? </p><p>He had a sham of a marriage and no life at all. </p><p>He probably married the first girl he ever dated and no sex life before that. </p><p>But...in spite of lacking all of that...he did love his daughter, didn’t he?</p><p>Bill’s life, besides Paul’s, was probably the most boring one Ted had ever come across…</p><p>
  <em> So why was he so much happier than he was? </em>
</p><p>He’d once been happy, hadn’t he? When he had Jenny, but not in the way he wanted. When he’d laugh at jokes that were actually funny and put <em> some </em>semblance of effort into his life. When he’d had dreams to do things other than to be a tech support worker. Hasn’t life been fun back then? Hadn’t life seemed so much easier than his life now? How was that possible? He was living a life where he wasn’t doing anything and yet, he felt more miserable than before. Maybe Bill was-</p><p>
  <em> No.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fuck no.  </em>
</p><p>He huffed and shook the thoughts of Bill and Jenny from his mind. What was he thinking? Ted’s life was so much better than Bill’s. There was no need to have the doubts of his own happiness. </p><p>He sighed as he made it to the warehouse, pushing aside the thick black curtains that enclosed his area away from everyone else’s, blocking out the sounds of the other people returning to their living spaces from hours of work, talking amongst friends. It astounded him, of course, that people had friends in such a time. In a time where people needed to focus on their own survival, it all seemed so strange that they were capable of laughing with another person. </p><p>He pulled his curtain-door shut with a small sigh before placing the small box of his belongings beside his cot and flopping down face-first on his rough cot. The day had been long, and since there was no means by which he would be able to relieve the tension (unless he was really motivated to go out and seduce someone, which he wasn’t- not today, at least), he looked forward to a long night of laying facedown on his cot and trying to block out the noises made by his fucking annoying neighbors until dinner was served in the cafeteria. Then he’d eat, and then return to do the exact same thing. </p><p>He was just about to close his eyes, tiredness from a day of doing absolutely nothing  tugging away at him when-</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>SLeEPiNG sO SoON, TeDDY bEAR?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He shot up, his blood suddenly running cold. </p><p>That voice. </p><p>He’d heard it before, hadn’t he? </p><p>Back when he’d…</p><p>He reached underneath his cot, retrieving the small box from where he’d stashed it over a month ago, the cool metal against his sweaty palms sending an unpleasant shiver up his spine. As he looked down at the small golden box, he inspected it’s pattern.</p><p>After a while, he just chuckled to himself. He was being stupid. There was no way-</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>TiCK TOcK, TEdDY.  It’S AlMosT TiME tO PLaY.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He let out a small sound of panic, before his jaw suddenly felt like it was glued shut. Unable to open his jaw, or drop the box which was suddenly growing colder and colder within his palm, making his skin feel like it was almost being burnt off. He couldn’t even get himself to scream as a coldness settled over his bones, making him feel like he was glued to his place, unable to cry out for help. It was then that the lights flickered on and off, and the room was eerily silent. </p><p>He couldn’t even force himself to shake as a fear unlike anything he’d ever known filled his bones. </p><p>Suddenly, a horrific putrid smell settled over the room, smelling almost like what he imagined rotting flesh smelled like. And in the eerie silence, the sound of heavy, almost thundering footsteps echoed, their steady beat sending thrills of terror through his veins.  </p><p>He felt like a character in a horror movie. Glued to his seat and unable to move when it would probably benefit him most to move.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>BOOM!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>A thunderclap sounded from <em> within </em> the room making him want to scream out, but because he felt like his jaw was welded together, he could only sit there, his eyes settled on nothing but the darkness. </p><p>Then the box in his hand began to grow warmer...and glow. It’s golden light contrasting the chill that had settled over his body in a way that made him wish that this nightmare- that was what this was, right?- would end. He tried to reassure himself that this was all just a bad dream. He’d fallen asleep at his desk again. Yes! That was it! He’d wake up to find someone scolding him for being in the offices after-hours, again.</p><p>Suddenly, the footsteps he’d been hearing out of the back of his mind grew in volume. And grew. And grew.</p><p>Then they went silent, and the box’ glow faded, leaving him shrouded in darkness. </p><p>He still couldn’t move, but at the very least the box wasn’t-</p><p>Suddenly in a blast of orange and golden light, the box erupted into a bright glow, which immediately made the most terrifying monster he’d ever seen appear before him. </p><p>He could bring himself to scream as he beheld the figure of a yellow furry goat with dead blue eyes standing before him. His mouth caught in a permanent snarl as its shriveled tongue lolled carelessly out of its mouth. Though the blue eyes were glazed over, they had the fury of a neon beer sign, and were fixated entirely on him, despite looking like they belonged to a corpse. Over it’s mottled, disgusting fur, the goat (which was standing upright, as though it were human) wore tattered rotting brown robes.</p><p>It leaned towards him, ignorant to the panic that was undoubtedly growing in his eyes, the snarl contorting into a horrific grin, revealing the rotting, sharp teeth that remained placed in black gums. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>iTs TIME, teDDY.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Then, just as quickly as he came, the lights turned on and the sound returned, the image of the terrifying goat  disappeared, and he was still holding the box in his hand. </p><p>He tried to move, trying to shake off the horror of what he’d just seen, but found that he was still frozen. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Stand.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>This time, a different voice was calling the shots.  A much softer, less harsh and cartoon-like voice, but he could still hear the laughter of the maniac goat in the back of his mind as sweat dripped down his brow. </p><p>Without his consent, he was forced to his feet, moving hastily out of his small room, clutching the gold box tightly. He tried to yell for help as his feet moved with a pce he’d probably never walked before, urgency in every step as he exited the small makeshift residential area and turned a corner. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Find Lex Foster. She’s waiting for you.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Who the hell- </em>
</p><p>Before he could complete the thought, he found himself rounding a few unfamiliar corners, the box in his hand suddenly burning hot, he couldn’t even scream or cry as his body wanted him to as he felt like his hand was being burnth of, the box remaining firmly in his grip. He could have sworn he felt a heartbeat from it as he was forced to walk the now darkened hallways, the lighting signifying the different times of the day settling throughout the hallways. </p><p>As he passed by the commissary, another person, a teenage girl from the looks of it, holding some brown paper bags. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Touch her shoulder.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>  </b>
</p><p>Before he could do anything to protest the morals of the situation, his hand lurched forward and landed on the black denim-clad shoulder of the teen, whose messy brown hair was pulled up into a simple ponytail. He whirled around on him, fury in her dark eyes, but the longer his hand remained on her shoulder, the more she seemed to relax. Her eyes losing their spark, going as dead as the goat he’d seen moments before. She went limp as she dropped the brown bags of groceries, staring blankly at him. </p><p><em> W </em> <em> hat-What did you do to her?! </em></p><p><em> His </em> internal pleas were met with silence as he and the girl, whom he assumed to be Lex Foster (although, he was fairly certain, he’d seen the girl and another smaller child hanging around Paul and Emma before...hadn’t he?) walked in tandem down a sterile white hallway, far away from the area he knew. </p><p>Oh God. He was being taken to die, wasn’t he?</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the girl he was walking alongside staring blankly ahead of her, but what made him want to scream and run the other way, was the fact that her eyes were pure black. Almost as if she had used ink for eye drops. He tried to scream. He tried to yell for help. Trying to quell the rage of the demonic laughter which reverberated around in his skull, strangely reminding him of Goofy from those cartoons he would watch as a kid.  He could do nothing. His body was a prisoner as it was forced to move forward, walking and drawing no attention to the few people who still remained in these unfamiliar hallways. </p><p>He couldn’t remember how long they’d been forced to walk, his hand still feeling like it was burning, the intricate patterns searing into his flesh like a hot iron, when they came to wide metallic doors. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Open them.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Before he could muster is thoughts to tell this other voice to fuck off, his hands lurched forward, the box still glowing brightly and the doors broke open, as if someone had taken a battering ram and pushed it at full speed to make the doors rip as if they were made of paper. </p><p>Before he could contemplate the amazement  behind the strange doors and the box, which may or may not have given him super strength, he found himself and the other girl being pulled forward into a dark room, as if they were being tugged on an invisible thread. </p><p>Had it not been for the glow from the box, the room would have been completely dark, shadows being cast across the room, highlighting rows of computers and machinery that had long since been abandoned. He and the girl were tugged forward without their consent and dragged in front of what looked like a large monitor, complete with several buttons and keys he had no clue what they did and faced the other way, away from the now busted doors. </p><p>It was then that he was able to make out a massive metallic structure in the shape of a circle, highlighted by the otherworldly glow of the box, which made Ted want to scream. </p><p>
  <em> This was it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was how he would die.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What even was this?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was it some form of sacrificial altar to the goat that would undoubtedly haunt his dreams under the assumption he made it out alive? </em>
</p><p>Before his panic could fill him, a low hum, almost like some demonic horrific choir singing his death throes for him entered the room, and a green glow filled the room. Without his authorization, his head tilted upward, and the hand that was holding the box was thrust outward, the girl mimicking his movement. </p><p>He could even bring himself to scream as he found himself overtaken by a horrific chill as the circular object was filled with green and black light. </p><p>Before he had time to comprehend what it was he was seeing, the box continued to glow, the glow intensifying as the humming grew louder and louder in volume, turning slowly from a hum into a scream...screams that sounded familiar. </p><p>As they grew louder and louder, making his head spin and ears ring as they echoed throughout his mind, he realized with a start that he actually recognized the voice they belonged to. </p><p>They were his own. </p><p>---</p><p>“-And then of course, nobody else is in that lab space, so I had to walk to the supply closet and do my best not to drop anything,” Emma was chuckling, making Paul smile as he listened intently to her describing the  “I swear to you, Paul, I’m gonna be a master of carrying glassware on these crutches before I even get the completed prosthetic.” </p><p>He smiled as she ate from her bowl of rice and chicken, some of the nondescript sauces still covering her face messily. He didn’t care, she was fucking beautiful, even when she had the mock-teriyaki smeared across her jaw.</p><p>“Anyway,” Emma sighed, “Xander’s got me working on a blood sample from one of Schaeffer’s operatives…hoping to see if I can figure out what the spider bitch did to them, which didn’t help the small headache I had, but what can you do?” </p><p>He took note of the way the word ‘Schaeffer’ left her lips, almost as if she were spitting out venom. He winced as he realized the weight behind her words. Once they’d reinstated John as General (again), he’d made sure that everything Schaeffer was hiding went public, no secrets being kept from the populace, especially where the loss of loved ones was concerned. It was from this that the information regarding Schaeffer’s suicide operations was released, and the fact that several of the operatives she’d sent out for ‘reconaissance’ hadn’t returned, and those that did were dead within the hour of their return. Some died of sudden cardiac arrest that the people recruited to pathology couldn’t figure out, and some had just been so torn apart that there was no way they’d ever be able to survive.   </p><p>“Oh…” he sighed, “That’s gotta be rough.” </p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded, taking another bite of her food, “What’s even worse is that there are so many samples for me to work with...all from the operatives she sent to the slaughter. But...if it helps us figure out what we’re dealing with, then I’ll do it.”</p><p>He nodded, “I’m just glad they put Schaeffer away before she could send anyone else out to die.”</p><p>Since Ethan had been shot and John had seen all of the wrongdoings that Schaeffer had conducted, he’d seen to it that the Citadel chamber would be remodeled,and that she would be placed down there with almost constant guards. She’d also proven herself to still be extremely dangerous, since two of the operatives John had sent down to guard her and give her meals on a daily basis (which was far kinder to her than she’d been to him. Though, he knew no person deserved to be treated that way) had ended up with broken bones. Still, it was a mercy that she was down there and he was still alive. He didn’t even want to think of what she might have done had she stayed in power for a moment longer. </p><p>As Emma continued to talk, he caught himself before he could stare. Sometimes he was convinced that this was all just a dream. That their happiness was something of a fantasy. Though  the world above them was crazy and life wasn’t the best, every single moment he’d shared with her, even the rough ones, had been a blessing. </p><p>He swallowed hard as he thought about the question he’d been playing with since they’d gotten her back.</p><p>Every single morning where he woke up to find her on the other side of the bed was wonderful. Every smile. Every embrace. Every tear. Even the harder moments where they couldn’t agree or one of them was acting immature.</p><p>He wanted those to last for the rest of their lives. </p><p>He knew Emma never considered herself to be the marrying kind. That the idea of being tied down was appalling to her...and yet, he couldn’t deny the fact that every single moment he spent with her made him desire more. It felt wrong to suddenly come to that conclusion so quickly with the knowledge that the topic caused her much trepidation, and yet, the idea of marrying her felt so...<em> right. </em> </p><p>He just didn’t know if she would say yes. </p><p>Because of this, he’d held off from even considering getting a ring, not that there were many places he could get one, especially in times such as these, when he was fairly certain that people had been pawning everything valuable off.  </p><p>    But...every time he looked at her, his heart swelled. He felt like he could do anything and be the best version of himself. A version that wasn’t nearly as hesitant as usual. God, for her, he would fly off the ends of the earth...he only hoped she felt the same. </p><p>    It was already known to him that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of </p><p>She smirked at him over her bowl of rice as she caught him staring. </p><p>“Hey,” she leaned in, a mischievous grin on her face, “What are you thinkin’ about?” </p><p>“Hmm-what?” he snapped back to reality, “Oh! Nothing! It’s nothing! You said you had a headache today?”</p><p>“You know I don’t believe that for a second, and don’t think you can change the subject” she smirked at him. Damn, she always could tell when he was lying (and it wasn’t just because he was a shit liar), “C’mon, Paul, what’s on your-”</p><p>Mercifully, she was cut off by sound of an urgent knock at the door. </p><p>He smiled at her, happy to change the topic of the conversation as she eyed him in mock-suspicion, “I’ll get it.” </p><p>He stood and walked hastily to the door, ignoring the fact that his heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe he could ask her one day how she felt about getting married and gauge her reaction from that. After all, there was no harm in asking how she felt about it as opposed to asking the actual question, right? </p><p>He pulled open the door, and instantly froze when he saw the person on the other side. </p><p>“Ethan?” </p><p>Standing before him was Ethan, his arm now mostly recovered from the gunshot wound he’d received on the part of Schaeffer. He held the hand of Hannah, whose eyes were wide and she was shaking. </p><p>“Ethan, what’s-” he started, before the teen cut him off. </p><p>“Lex went to get a few things from the commissary two hours,” he whispered, “She hasn’t come back...and Hannah hasn’t said nothing about it...I just...I didn’t know what to do...”</p><p>Paul looked from Ethan, his eyes wide and his hands clearly shaking, to Hannah, who stared blankly ahead, as if witnessing something horrific, but couldn’t voice the words to describe it.</p><p>“I think you’d better come inside,” he said, ushering the two into the apartment. </p><p>As the two made their way into the living room and Paul locked and closed the door, he was suddenly stopped by a sudden sharp pain in his temple. He shook it off and joined the others in the living room. </p><p>“What’s going on, Ethan?” Emma was saying, standing up on one of the crutches, her other hand steadying herself against one of the kitchen chairs. </p><p>“Um...I don’t know…” He murmured, his eyes looking far away and worried, “But something ain’t right…” </p><p>“How long did you say she’s been gone?” Paul asked, looking down at Hannah, who hadn’t moved, her eyes only wide and filled with fear that made his heart clench. </p><p>“Two hours,” Ethan murmured, sitting down on the couch running one of his hands through his hair, “And she went to grab toothpaste and soap...I think.”</p><p>“The commissary, you said?” Emma asked, moving over to pick up her other crutch. </p><p>“Yeah,” Ethan nodded, “Hannah normally will tell me when she’ll be late though...so I didn’t know what else to do.” </p><p>Paul looked at Hannah and knelt down in front of her, keeping his distance in case she didn’t like it, or his presence was overwhelming . </p><p>“Hannah,” he whispered, “You okay?” </p><p>She turned to him, and shook her head, “Can’t hear.”</p><p>He glanced at Emma, whose eyes had gone wide before turning back to Hannah, “Can’t hear what, Han?”</p><p>“Lexi,” Hannah whimpered, “Can’t see her either, only-”</p><p>The sound of Hannah’s voice was suddenly drowned out as the dull pain in his head suddenly rose, his ears suddenly ringing loudly and his blood buzzing. He fell, softly and slowly to the ground as the ringing rose to a rar in her ears, loudly crescendoing in his brain as he curled in on himself. </p><p>Images flashed in his brain as he curled in on himself. A golden glow. The portal room. Darkness. Lex, her eyes obsidian and her hand outstretched, Panic thrummed in his heart as he heard screams. Screaming unlike anything he’d ever heard. Almost as if everyone’s silent indignance was  crying out at the same time, and he could hear all of it. His vision was blurred, but he could see that Hannah hadn’t moved in front of him. </p><p>“Paul?!”</p><p>The noise suddenly died as he felt the feeling of Emma’s hands cupping his face, her voice breaking through it all. </p><p>“Paul,” she was speaking forcefully, but calmly. Though, as his vision calmed, and colors and shapes returned, he could see the panic in her eyes, “Paul, are you alright? C’mon, talk to me…”</p><p>“Is he okay?!” Ethan was scared, he could tell. He’d moved from his seat on the couch and now out his hands around Hannah’s shoulders. </p><p>“I-I don’t know,” Emma spoke breathlessly, “C’mon, Paul, just breathe...” </p><p>Through the inexplicable panic and pain that had suddenly just built up in his veins, he followed the sound of her voice. Her instructions to breathe, and slowly...reality returned to him. </p><p>“C’mon,” Emma was instructing him, “Just breathe...okay? Breathe…” </p><p>He forced his eyes open again and found that he was leaning against the wall. Emma was kneeling in front of him, in a way that couldn’t have been good for her leg, her hands holding his own as she stared at him, panic and fear in her eyes. </p><p> He glanced up at Ethan, who was clearly shaken by the experience, “I know where they are. </p><p>Slowly and shakily, he got to his feet, Emma, picking up her crutches as he helped her up. </p><p>“What the fuck was that?” she demanded, her voice shaky.</p><p>“I don't know,” he said, trying to get a hold of his breathing and the shaky panicked tone of his voice, “But I think Lex’s in trouble.” </p><p>Ethan’s eyes widened as he took Hannah’s hand gently, “What kind of trouble?” </p><p>“I don’t know…” Paul shook his head, “But we need to hurry.” </p><p>“Hurry?” Emma asked, her eyes wide, “Hurry to where, Paul? What did you just-”</p><p>“The portal room,” Paul whispered, hating the way the memory of the portal sent shivers up and down his spine, the memory of the coldness filling him with a fear and desire to run the other way. </p><p>“The portal room?” Ethan had gone pale, “You don’t think she’s-”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Paul said hastily, pulling his shoes on despite the paleness and panic that woven its way onto Emma’s face. He could tell that the last thing she wanted was to go there. The last thing <em> he </em>wanted to do was go there...but if Lex was in danger of being pulled into the Black and White…, “But we need to hurry.” </p><p>He started to make his way to the door when he noticed the sound of Emma’s ragged breathing. He felt his heart clench as he took his hand, feeling it shake in his.</p><p>“Don’t go,” she whispered,  staring down at the ground.</p><p>He was suddenly reminded of her terrified face, the last thing he'd seen before he’d been dragged into darkness. How much grief and pain had been in her gaze as she could do nothing but watch as darkness consumed him. And here he was, going near what was possibly an active portal once more. Of course, she wouldn't want him to go.</p><p>He squeezed her hands gently and pressed a kiss to her head, “Em, we can't let what happened to me and Ethan happen to Lex.”</p><p>Of course, the words were strong, but the way he said them were not. She didn’t seem convinced, chewing on the inside of her cheek and not meeting his eyes “But what if…”</p><p>“I won’t,” he said with as much assurance as he could, in spite of the idea of going near a portal causing him more fear than he hoped to admit.</p><p>She looked up and nodded, clearly not liking the circumstances but looking at him with determination all the same, “Then I’m coming with you.”</p><p>“Okay,” he nodded, not liking the idea of either of them getting near a portal, but the knowledge of Lex being in danger being enough for both of them to spring into action.</p><p>It was Ethan who led them into the hallway, running at a pace Emma on crutches couldn’t keep up with, but managed to stay somewhat close behind without them leaving her behind all together, remembering the route to the portal room all too well. </p><p>As they began to descend into the deeper hallways of the base, he felt chills run up and down his bones, making him turn around to make sure Emma was close behind, always feeling stronger when she was around. Beside him, Hannah took his hand, saying nothing as they passed through the barrier between the residential area and the labs using the clearance passes that John and Xander had given them. </p><p>Soon the sound of thundering footsteps joined their own and they whirled around to see John and Xander, still in full uniform joining them in their pace down the hallways. John ran alongside Paul.</p><p>“What are you doing down here?!” he called.</p><p>“I could ask you the same thing, ” was his breathless response as he looked over his shoulder to make sure Emma and Xander were  still there. </p><p>“Xander and I got an alert that the portal was active, ” John yelled.</p><p>“It's active?!?” Paul whispered, almost feeling his heart skip a beat as they turned a sharp corner, “We think Lex is in there!”</p><p>John cursed as his eyes went wide, running faster as the doors to the portal room came into view. Much to everyone’s shock, the doors looked as if they had been blasted open, and Paul felt like he might throw up when he heard the all too familiar roar of the portal’s energy and saw a green and golden light emanating from the room.</p><p>“<em> LEXI!!!” </em>Hannah screamed, running at the door as Ethan came to an abrupt stop. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>BOOM!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Just before any of them could cross the threshold of the door a burst of golden energy ripped through the doors, knocking them all to the ground, sending Paul careening into a wall as the pain in his head suddenly died down. </p><p>Once the roar came to a stop, and the ringing in his ears stopped, his eyes shot open, searching the hallways dim light for Emma.</p><p>Everyone was scattered about the room, thankfully awake and not bleeding, from the looks of it, but discombobulated. His eyes spotted Emma and he felt a breath of relief leave his lungs unlike anything he’d ever experienced. She was pushing herself up into a seated position, hissing as she glanced down at her leg, before pulling her crutches closer to her. He scrambled over to her, her own eyes widening as they fell on him. </p><p>“You okay?” he whispered, helping her into a sitting position. Looking at her face, making sure she wasn’t hurt, or lacking in any senses as she looked at him, her breathing ragged.</p><p>She nodded and looked up at him with wide eyes, almost panicking as she scanned his features, looking to see if anything was wrong, “Are you?” </p><p>He managed a quick nod as he caught his breath. He helped her stand, making sure she wasn’t wobbly and could gain what footing she could manage on her crutches looking up to see Hannah, standing in the doorway, her back turned to them.</p><p>As John scrambled to his feet, helping Xander and then Ethan to their feet, he muttered under his breath, “What the hell was that?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Xander breathed, his eyes wide as he stumbled forwards to stand beside Hannah. </p><p>“Bad box,” Hannah muttered under her breath. </p><p>John scrambled around in the dim light for a light switch, turning on the bright fluorescent lights that illuminated the portal room, the looming circular structure nearly sucking all the breath out of Paul’s lungs as he recognized it’s imposing figure. The last time he’d been in this room, he’d been infected and dragged away from Emma as the thing wearing Hidgens’ skin threatened to kill him. He fought back against the shiver that built its way up his spine as he saw three figures sprawled out across the floor. </p><p>“Lex!” Ethan ran forward, Hannah following close behind as he gathered the out-cold girl in his arms. With a sigh of relief, Paul realized that the girl was breathing, and it wasn’t long before she cracked an eye open. </p><p>“E?” she whispered, as the others began to slowly and cautiously make their way into the room, “Where are we...what the hell happened?” </p><p>Ethan let out a breathless laugh, relief in his voice as he saw that she was okay, a little befuddled, perhaps, but okay, “I was hoping you would tell me…” </p><p>“I was…” she stammered, letting out a few coughs, “I was leaving the commissary...and then- then someone grabbed my shoulder and-” </p><p>She froze as her eyes caught sight of something a few feet away from her, “He grabbed my shoulder!” </p><p>With a shaky hand, she pointed in the direction of one of the three figures sprawled out across the floor, one that was curled in on itself, and yet, was somehow familia rto Paul. </p><p>Xander moved hastily, pushing the person over. What Paul saw there made him gasp. </p><p>“T-Ted?” he whispered, glancing over at Emma, who looked like she was just as confused as he was. He moved forward to get a better look, perhaps for confirmation that it was him. </p><p>It <em> was </em> him, only...something was <em> completely </em>wrong. </p><p>The man’s eyes were open, but instead of being the normal shade of hazel, the whites of his eyes looked as though they’d been painted in shades of neon blue, with the irises being a highlighter yellow. His pupil was white, unlike what it was supposed to be, and it looked as though the veins that were bulging from his neck and head were containing neon themselves as they appeared to pulse and glow underneath his skin. He was sweating horrifically, and his eyes were unfocused as he muttered things under his breath in a heavy, almost exhausted voice. </p><p>“Ted?” he whispered again, leaning in closer to inspect his coworker further before Xander held up a hand, stopping him and pointing to Ted’s right hand. </p><p>Paul looked down and felt like he might be sick. The entire palm of his hand looked as though it had been charred beyond recognition, patterns and edges burned into the flesh like a twisted form of a rubix cube, almost as if a <em> box </em> had been in his hand and had left its mark, the palm still smoldering and painted red and black. </p><p>He scooted back slightly looking at Emma, who was staring into nothingness, shock covering every inch of her face. </p><p>“What the hell happened here?” he whispered to himself, before turning back to Emma to see she hadn’t moved, “Emma are you-”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Okay?” </em>  a new, yet scarily familiar voice interrupted him, making his blood run cold, “ <em> Of course she’s not...after all the balance of the universe is at stake here.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Slowly, as if he didn’t want to believe it for himself, he turned over his shoulder to look at the third figure that had been slumped to the ground, now straightening his black turtleneck sweater, and neatly pressing his silver hair down as he turned to face the group, his hawk-like gaze scanning them slowly, as if gauging their reaction, whilst also maintaining a sense of dramatism, which would have made Paul laugh had it not been for the previous history with the man that made him want to turn and run the other way. </p><p>It was unmistakably him.</p><p>Paul subconsciously found himself moving closer to Emma, her hand finding his as the man regarded them, sending the room into a silent state of alarm. </p><p>Emma was the first to speak, her words whispered briskly in fear and disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Pro-Professor?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Henry Hidgens smiled softly at Emma, “Hello, Emma. Did you miss me?” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Ron Burgundy voice* WOW that escalated quickly. I mean, that really got out of hand there.</p><p>Look, I entirely require more Paulkins being happy, even if it doesn't last long. I just love them.</p><p>Well, Teds in trouble. Wonder what's up with him.</p><p>Hidgens stans come get y’all juice. </p><p>Now that he's back...things can't be good....</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if so desired!! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read this (which is less than half the length chapter-wise of OTOLI, but more than half word count-wise, so thanks for sticking with my really long chapters)!!</p><p>I hope you all have an amazing day! Please stay safe and healthy!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. You Never Know What Could Be Waiting Outside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hidgens is questioned<br/>Ted wakes up, but not the same</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BEEP BEEP BITCHES, THE INTERVIEW FORMAT IS BACK!!!</p><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ’Restless Heart Syndrome’ by Green Day</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Description of wounds, MAJOR NIGHTMARE TIME EPISODE 2 (parts one and two) SPOILERS,  Ted, goat bastard</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Date: January 23rd, 2019</span>
</p><p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>PEIP INTERVIEW CASE #4457</span>
</p><p>
  <span>FILE HHOL11890</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SUBJECT: January Twenty-Third Occurrence</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>DATE: 01/23/2019</span>
</p><p>
  <span>INTERVIEW INITIATED: 21:56 ECT</span>
</p><p>
  <span>INTERVIEW TERMINATED: 22:45 ECT</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CASE SUBJECTS:</span>
</p><ul>
<li><span>Foster, Alexandra Kendall (Civilian)</span></li>
<li><span>Hidgens, Henry Leonardo (It’s complicated)</span></li>
<li><span>Spankoffski, Theodore Joseph (Former Tech Support- now Civilian)*</span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <span>*- Mr. Spankoffski, although being a primary subject in the incident on the 23rd of January, was incpacitated as a result of the events and at the time was sent immediately to the infirmary to be reviewed by Abadi, Kamaria (Paraneurology Specialist)</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>OVERSEEING OFFICER:  McNamara, John Robert (General)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>WITNESS: Lee, Xander James (Major)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>TECHNICAL WITNESS: N/A</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OTHER PRESENT PARTIES (Alphabetized by last name): </span>
</p><ul>
<li><span>Barnes, Rebecca Lorraine (Nurse)</span></li>
<li><span>Foster, Hannah Nicole (Civilian)</span></li>
<li><span>Green, Ethan Antonio (Civilian)</span></li>
<li><span>Houston, Thomas Dylan (Captain)</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Matthews, Paul Jonathan (Analyst)</span></li>
<li><span>Perkins, Emma Juliet (Biology specialist)</span></li>
</ul><hr/><p>
  <span>-BEGIN INTERVIEW-</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, JOHN R. (General): Begin interview at approximately 21:56 in the Eastern Time zone, General John Robert McNamara presiding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, XANDER J. (Major): Major Xander James Lee acting as a formal witness. Present parties include as follows, Paul Jonathan Matthews, Emma Juliet Perkins, Rebecca Lorraine Barnes, Thomas Dylan Houston, Ethan Antonio Green, and Hannah Nicole Foster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): The subject of this interview is to ascertain the events that took place this evening at approximately 8:42 this evening. Please state your full name for the record please. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, ALEXANDRA K.: John...you know my name…</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): That I do, Lex, it’s just for the boring people who’ll probably never review these records, but we have to do it for proprietary reasons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: *long exaggerated sigh* Fine. Alexandra Kendall Foster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Perfect, and we already have your birthday on file so we have no need of it right now. Now your name and birthday, sir? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, HENRY L.: Are these handcuffs really necessary? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, THOMAS D. (Captain): You bet your ass they are, buddy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>BARNES, REBECCA L.:  Tom, please…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Yes, they are. Now if you would provide the record with your full name and birthday, we can get this show on the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Henry Leonardo Houston, April twenty-second, 1955. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen).: Thank you. Let the records show that the third subject of this interview was incapacitated by the events and is therefore spending some extensive time in the infirmary for treatment by Dr. Kamaria Abadi. The subject's name is Theodore ‘Ted’ Joseph Spankoffski, and if we are given the chance, we will interview him at a later date. Now, Lex, what can you tell us about what happened tonight?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: You mean what I remember?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Yes, whatever information you can provide us with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A: Well…I was at the commissary to grab a few things, toothpaste, milk, you know..the works...I probably left the apartment around...What time did I leave, E?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GREEN, ETHAN A.: Around six fifteen, babe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, HANNAH N.: Six thirty-two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Not that I don’t love you, E, but I’m more inclined to believe Hannah. So, anyway, I left to go grab stuff at about six thirty-two, I went into the store, managed to grab a few things and left the store within twenty minutes. I was leaving, when I noticed this tall guy walking behind me, and he’s moving...almost like a robot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): Mr. Spankoffski?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Yeah, I think that’s his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): Did you think he was following you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Well, you know...because life is a fucking nightmare, logically, that was the conclusion I came to. So I started walking faster, when out of nowhere he reaches out and just...taps me on the shoulder. Before I can whirl around on him and tell him to fuck off…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GREEN, E.: Babe, you okay?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Things...went hazy…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): Meaning?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Meaning I have no memory of how I got into the portal room or what happened after that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): You said you left for the commissary at around six thirty-two, correct?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, H.: Correct. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Yeah...that sounds about right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): And you spent only fifteen minutes in the store, yes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Yeah...I just grabbed what crap I needed, paid for it, and went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): So you should have been home around six forty-five, and yet, we didn’t have the alert about the portal activation until eight thirty-five. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.:  Meaning?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Meaning that there’s almost two hours worth of time that is unaccounted for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Now, Mr. Hidgens…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Professor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Please, don’t interrupt. You’re lucky we didn’t kill you on sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): He’s lucky I didn’t kill him on sight.*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(*-Let the records show that five minutes prior to the start of this interview, Captain Houston, upon realizing that Hidgens was alive, nearly earned recompense for the harm done to his son, Timothy Houston months prior, through acts of pugilism. This was prevented, however, by an intervention on the part of Nurse Barnes, Mr. Matthews, and Ms. Perkins)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, EMMA J.: Amen to that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Oh for the love of...for the last time, I am not the Henry Hidgens that kidnapped Timothy Houston and brought about the destruction of the world by releasing Webby...I am the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>Henry Hidgens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, PAUL J.: And why are we supposed to believe that? The real Henry Hdgens died in the seventies or something like that…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes, that is correct.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: Then why are we supposed to believe that you’re the real Hidgen?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Because I told you that you’d find me, Emma. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, H.: Pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes, the young one is correct. And if you don’t believe me because I told you, then believe me because Jane told you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): What the hell do you know about Jane?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: Tom wait…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: I know that before Emma and Paul created the pocket they’d both been frequenting without realizing it, Jane Perkins and I were forced to wander around a domain of death known as-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, H.: Nightmare time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes...that’s right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: You mean the dark forest you guys warned me about?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: How the fuck did Jane get there?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.:  Well...as you know, the rests began the moment Jane Perkins died after a car crash, yes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GREEN, E.: Yeah...we saw it...It got worse every time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Well, the intersection at which Jane was killed, by the cliffside service road is actually a sensitive spot to the Black and White.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): An intersection? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Well, it wasn’t always an intersection. Scientists believe that a very spiritual group of cavepeople inhabited these lands long before the first settlers from Oregon became the Hatchetmen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GREEN, E.: Cavepeople? Wait...Lexi, didn’t we learn on that one boring field trip that the potential cavemen that lived here worshipped a duck?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: You actually remember that field trip?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span> GREEN, E.: That was actually the only detail that stuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Well...yes, the people did, in fact worship a duck, and then fire, as evidence suggests, but around the same time, there is some evidence to suggest that the people encountered an extraterrestrial being with similar origins to the Beings from the Black and White. Nobody knows what exactly this thing was, but it caused the area that is now that intersection to be extremely sensitive to the Black and White. After the cavemen moved, or died off, these lands were abandoned, until a group of settlers decided to move from Oregon to this island centuries later, claiming it for their own and deeming themselves the Hatchetmen. Thus, Hatchetfield came to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): So, when the car crashed... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Your wife’s soul was unfortunately caught in the grasp of the Black and white, and like myself, instead of ending up in the Black and White, as Paul, General McNamara, and young Ethan here did, she found in Nightmare Time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>BARNES, R.: How awful…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): What exactly is Nightmare Time, Hidgens?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Skip 00:01:28 of silence)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): Professor?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: I’d been stuck in that domain since 1976, when my body was taken, and honestly, I still have no idea exactly what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: You mentioned that it was a forest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes, a metaphysical forest. It looks like it’s painted in shades of Black and White, ironically. You find yourself there, and then you see things. Things you shouldn’t see. Things that would send any live person into Cardiac arrest. You’ve actually encountered some of these people, Miss Barnes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>BARNES, R.: Really? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>BARNES, R.: So...all of those operatives with sudden onset of Cardiac-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: All in Nightmare Time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>BARNES, R.: Jesus…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: So...you and Jane were stuck there?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes, we were already dead, technically, so we couldn’t be affected by the death aspect...just the soul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): What does that mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: This place...when it shows you things, it presents your worst nightmares in </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>mundane situations. Somehow that just makes it worse. Paul’s actually been partially in Nightmare Time twice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Note how I said ‘partially’, because if he was fully in Nightmare Time, it would be unlikely he’d survive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): What do you mean then? How’d he get there?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Well, first off, it’s important to note that the pocket Jane and I have been in for a while now actually started forming the first time Emma died.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): The first time?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: You mean when I was remembering Paul… with the seizures and black blood...all of that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes. You see, you didn’t die </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Paul to have to pull you back, but the bond shared between you and Paul was enough to create the pocket, however small it may have been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GREEN, E.: ‘Didn’t die enough’?! Who says that?!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: So...the first time she died…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: The pocket was created, therefore preventing you from completely going into Nightmare Time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T (Capt.): When the hell did that happen?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: Yeah...I’m a little confused as to that as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: You had a nightmare a few months ago, yes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, A.: Buddy, with as much trauma as this group has been through as a whole, you need to be more specific than that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: I mean a nightmare that occurred shortly after you were cured of the infection my demonic doppelganger was trying to kill you with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: Again, you need to be more specific. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: *long exaggerated sigh* It started out like a normal nightmare...but shortly after it began you found yourself in a forest...after that, you saw things that didn’t make sense, in wave after wave...for example, you might have seen a line of the people you knew, your mother perhaps...all infected and mutilated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: Stop...just stop... I know what you're talking about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: He means the one before the shooting, doesn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: Yep…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: You said he was only partially in Nightmare time then, and that he was kept from going all the way into it by the presence of the pocket...right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: How did he get there to begin with?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: I think it was an after-affect of his encounter with Apatha. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>GREEN, E.: Oh Jesus…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: But the thing is, people are only sent into Nightmare Time after an encounter with Webby. I don’t know how she does it but Paul’s the only case that I’ve found differently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Well, since Paul’s infection was likely a way that we were playing into Webby’s hands, that would make sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes, but he never encountered her directly. And the second time was just before one of their shared dreams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: You mean the one where I was in the forest, and found myself wandering to the pocket?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes. You were there, but no harm or nightmarish sights came to you, so I don’t understand- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): Wait, how did you and Jane find your way into the pocket? I mean, you were both in this Nightmare Land….how did you get to the pocket Emma and Paul created? </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Simple, Emma died again. We both made it into the pocket, escaping nightmare Time and served as...guides of some sort for Emma when she would come upon us. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T (Capt.): And how the hell are you here now?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: I’m afraid I’m not quite sure...I knew I was supposed to be brought back into this world, but I had nothing to do with Lex being the one to manifest me back into this reality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: And Ted? What was up with him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Now there’s another story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, H.: Bad box. Bastard’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: By ‘Bastard’, does she mean Ted?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes and no. I fear that Ted was chosen by the Box’s original owner….one of Webby’s siblings, T’Noy Karaxis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, H.: The Goat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes. I’m afraid Ted’s been wrapped up in a plot that involves the convolution of time and space itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: But why Ted? What did he do to-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: The same way Apatha chose you. Ted, I’m afraid, has been miserable for a great deal of time, leading up to his past mistakes that are also his future. Whatever it was that the box showed him, it placed him in Nightmare Time...but not his own, but also not Nightmare time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): What the hell is that supposed to mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FOSTER, H.: Seeing future and past. Time. Mistakes. Death. Jenny. His own murder, but not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: It’s not easy to explain nor understand...and yet, it’s safe to assume that Ted’s mind has been thrown in the blender of time. Whether or not he’ll survive….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: You don’t think he’ll die, do you? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: It’s hard to say. I’m no paraneurologist, so you can’t necessarily take my word for it. Though, I’d love to talk to Dr. Abadi at some point to see what’s going on with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): How do we know that Webby isn’t responsible for sending you...that you’re not some demon wearing the skin of a man we may have once been able to trust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: The same reason I’m here and Jane isn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: You mean Jane could have been back?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: It was possible, but the chances of her doing it and not getting dragged back into Nightmare were slim. Jane’s body was far more damaged physically than mine, so if she was to be rematerialized into this world, it might have killed the person responsible for bringing her back, and she would have died within moments of being brought back. Jane and I both have knowledge of what the Black and white, and it’s constituents are doing. If you can’t trust me, trust her choice to send me back.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: Emma, you okay?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: You really are the real Henry Hidgens, aren’t you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes. Even if you don’t believe it, I’ll do my best to prove my intentions are good.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): Have fun with that, buddy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Lex, if you want, you, Ethan, and Hannah can go back to your apartment. Tom, you and Becky can leave as well. Where’s Tim, by the way?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOUSTON, T. (Capt.): Lucy’s watching him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Okay, good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: What about us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): You guys can go in just a moment, I’ve still got a few questions that pertain to you guys.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Sounds of Houston, Barnes, both Fosters, and Green leaving the room)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Skip 00:03:21 of silence)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E:  You know what’s funny?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: That after all that talk about a box...we never actually found one on Ted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: True...but what we did find was that rather nasty burn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: It looked like he had been holding a box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): Like the Box had seared a chunk of his hand off. God, Kam* had to call in a burn unit for the hand alone, with as much damage as we could see, is be surprised if he got to keep the hand. You could even see bone-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>*-Major Lee is referring to Paraneurology specialist, Dr. Kamaria Abadi)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Xander, I love you, but we don't need those details.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: Please stop...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: Ugh...I think I’m gonna be sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): It is fascinating though, you know? How you show up at another time when something like this happens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Listen...I know you’re not inclined to trust me...especially not after what the other me did...but you have to believe that this time I am truly here with intentions of helping </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): If you think we’re gonna buy into that for a second, you're a damn-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Emma….do you believe him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Skip 00:04:57 of silence)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: I don’t know...I mean, he was in the pocket..and he gave me valuable information, but I can’t just assume that this is the same person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: What can I do to prove it to you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>PERKINS, E.: From the way it looks... nothing. Webby’s powerful enough to possibly point out details that the real Hidgens would know...so, I cannot forgive you for something you might not have done when I’m not entirely sure you’re not the same person. I mean, fuck...you...or some version of you, tried to kill all of us. You kidnapped my nephew and tried to murder Paul...I can’t just forget that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: That’s fair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>MATTHEWS, P.: So, what do we do then? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): How much do you know about the Black and white, that the other Henry Hidgens did?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: After forty-two years in Nightmare Time, you might say you pick up on a few things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Well the fact remains that he probably knows more than we do, as of right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): What’s that supposed to mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Do we have any secure labs that are still operational? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): Yes. What do you mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): I say he works for us, but under several guards. One toe out of line, we throw him in the brig.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): You're serious?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Unfortunately, yes. We need his help...and if he’s trying to prove himself….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>LEE, X. (Maj.): I won't deny that the information he offers is valuable...what I’m not sure I can condone is us possibly playing into Webby’s hands again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): I don’t like it either...but I think this is the best play we can make. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Thank you…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Do not mistake my mercy for trust, Hidgens. If you step out of line I will not hesitate to nip whatever it is that you’ve done in the bud, got that? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HIDGENS, H.: Yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>McNAMARA, J. (Gen.): Good. Then, on that note, I terminate this interview at 22:45. Paul, Emma, you may return to your apartment, thank you for all of your help. Xander, could you, in the meantime call Rodney in and secure a cell in the brig for Hidgens, please?</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <span>-INTERVIEW TERMINATED-</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything was cold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t understand why. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d been in so much pain...and so...so cold…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And now the world was painted in shades of grey and he couldn't figure out where he was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It looked like a forest captured in shades of black, silver and white oil paint. Soundless and yet, loud. He’s left wandering throughout the trees as he tries to make sense of where he is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then, as if the ground beneath him opened up, he found himself falling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He let out a soundless scream as images flared past him. Falling through an endless rabbit hole in which he watches moments and memories from a life that seems like it’s his, but not, flying past him, playing out quickly...like a movie on fast-forward. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sees...a wedding?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not his own. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul and Emma’s.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Emma’s weird professor is officiating?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A man runs in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Homeless Man. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Screaming about how Emma isn’t Emma?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma’s brother-in-law stands. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma and Paul leave for a moment to calm down, but return. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re married. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul and Emma, smiling and dancing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The same professor drinking martinis with him at a bar. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jenny. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Suddenly it’s his and Jenny’s wedding?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dancing with Jenny. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Feeling happy </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(How had he forgotten what this felt like?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jenny smiling at him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jenny giving him a gift.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A gold Box. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looks up and Jenny’s gone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone’s gone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Silence. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Darkness. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The gold light. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The burning. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Goat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The laughter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His screams. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then it’s gone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s back at Paul and Emma’s wedding. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Ugh.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul asking him about printing reports.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Clearly uncomfortable with the fact that Ted’s inebriated and wasn’t invited to the wedding, yet showed up all the same)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His office. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A printer malfunctioning. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Feeling tired. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Opening his eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His office door nailed shut.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No water cooler. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A meeting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unfamiliar faces. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The image of a metallic skelton, covered in wires and circuits, projected on the screen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A strange woman explaining the android they were supposed to produce. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Skin and features wrapping the image projection to present the image of Emma Perkins. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Paul’s wife?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The menacing half-human, half-machine leering over him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kilgore...thats what he said his name was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mentions of a bastard. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s in the future?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>People shooting at him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Running away. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His office again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He got away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(apparently a time machine?) </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thoughts of Jenny. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thoughts of the night she went missing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thoughts of his mistake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he can win her heart before the other guy can. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His office...but not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Hatchfield Gazette. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Back before it was CCRP. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d made it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>October of 2004</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Preparations to win Jenny’s heart before Andy whats-his-face can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knocking out his stupid younger self before he can fuck it up for them both. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finding the asshole who took Jenny. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Getting the satisfaction of beating the shit out of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finding Jenny just before she goes to leave with Andy (who he’d left bleeding and broken on the pavement). </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trying to get Jenny to love him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looks confused. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scared. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Angry even. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No...this isn’t the way it should be. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He moves in, trying to pull her away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She touches something that wasn’t in his breast pocket before, and goes silent. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jenny’s eyes widen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In pain. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In fear. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jenny starts to crumble. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her body turning to dust. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He can do nothing to stop it as the woman he could have only loved is now a pile of golden dust at his feet. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He runs to his office. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hoping to fix it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(How would he do that?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Oh right, his office is apparently a time machine)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He tries. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And tries.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No avail. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Goat.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sneering down at him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Taunting him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Box again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looks at it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly he hears and sees everything he shouldn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(TOO MUCH)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(TOO LOUD)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He joins in the screams.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s thrown out of CCRP (circa 2004)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He finds a coat. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He finds a hat. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s forgotten his name. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>People call him the Homeless Man.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He watches his own life go by. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>People ignore him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>People don’t look into his eyes to see that maybe he might have once been their neighbor. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He lives like that until it’s 20-something again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A couple walks past. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hand-in-hand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He and Jenny could have been like that once. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looks up at them to see...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His friend!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The robot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The one CCRP in the future was producing!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not Emma!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not Emma! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He has to warn Paul!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A wedding. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul and Emma’s again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He runs in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He tells them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He tries to warn them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s thrown out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His fall comes to an end as he’s slammed against the pavement of an alleyway. The cold of the cement blaring into his face. He’s wearing a coat and hat that he was fairly certain he hadn’t gone to work in. In his hand there is a bottle of cheap liquor, and somehow he can taste it’s remnants in his mouth. It’s so cold in the alleyway. He tries to catch his breath. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of horrific laughter appears again, making him straighten up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He can hear the Goat saying something to him at the ack of his mind, but he doesn’t understand the words. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then the laughter is gone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s left alone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey.” an assertive voice behind him speaks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He turns around to see Emma (Not Emma, Paul...that’s not Emma!) and Paul. They stare down at him with a sort of contempt in their eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their eyes…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something’s not right with Emma’s eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One is blue. The other is her normal brown. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not Emma. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not Emma,” he murmurs under his breath, too tired and confused to physically react. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You almost ruined our wedding,” she tilts her head at him, “Bastard.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Before he can react, he catches sight of the knife, a scream and plea for help ripping itself from his throat. Maybe Paul will help him! Paul will see that his wife is a murderer. Paul’s his friend, after all!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul does nothing but watch as not-Emma plunges the knife repeatedly into his stomach. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ted can do nothing as agony embraces him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then he’s falling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Falling…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Falling…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes shoot open and he lurches up for air. Gasps enter his lungs in painful breaths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears voices. Telling him to calm down. Telling him that he’ll be fine. Someone’s yelling for a doctor. Someone’s calling out his vitals, but he can’t bring himself to care. </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s in a hospital. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How long has it been since he’d been in one of these?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he remembers was being in his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The last thing he remembers is not-Emma’s menacing form as she plunged the knife mercilessly into his stomach. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His name is Ted. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He can’t remember his name. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> somewhere</span>
  <em>
    <span> right? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t remember.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Paul let him die. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>EMMA KILLED HIM.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She might have-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHE KILLED HIM.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHE KILLED HIM. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But he was alive now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He could kill that fucking robot before she ever got the chance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As nurses and doctors tried to stabilize the man that they thought they’d just summoned to consciousness, they didn't realise that there were two minds there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Different lifetimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One half was shattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other messy enough as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as the man who could both remember his name and could not as there he found himself driven to survive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was being given a second chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And by God, he wasn't gonna waste it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't hear the maniacal laugh of the Goat who’d condemned him to half madness, as he made a promise to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A promise to survive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter the cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>YES WE USED THE FORMAT!!! <br/>Missed this format (but not pressing on the shift button because my laptop lacks a caps lock)</p><p>Do you think they can trust Hidgens?</p><p>Uh oh, Ted.</p><p>Emma better watch her back...</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos, if you would like!!! This one was really easy to write, which is why I got it out so soon, but I hope it made sense (if you haven't seen ’Forever and Always’ or ’Time Bastard’ none of the second part made sense)</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!<br/>Please stay safe and healthy!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Friends and Liars Don't Wait for Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So you thought the last couple of chapters had a lot????</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ’I am the Highway’ by Chris Cornell</p>
<p>OKAY!!! The third section of this one gets really dark and REALLY intense, so if you want to skip that, it is bookended by the bolded words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!:Ted, Bastard Goat, Hospitals, blood, attempted murder, suffocation, manipulation, fear, SERIOUSLY IT GETS REALLY INTENSE IN THE THIRD SECTION</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: January 29th, 2019</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Though he refused to say a word to the doctors and medical personnel who’d examined him day in and day out, he’d found himself staring and waiting, listening to the sounds of the  infirmary </span><em><span>(hospital?). </span></em><span>No matter how painful the poking and prodding, or how loud</span> <span>the machines they’d stick him in were, he continued to sit and wait. They threw around words like ‘catatonic’ and ‘graft’ a lot. Words that flew past his brain and comprehension. He was still there, of course, he just didn’t care, </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Still, it seemed that his lack of responsiveness bothered them...and therefore, they decided to try and coax it out of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were sending old friends in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Who were these people?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Trying to get him to talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did these people seem so familiar? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he here?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was still the box’s prisoner. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faces he could have sworn he once knew were coming in every day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faces</span>
  <em>
    <span>...but no names.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A woman with russet curls and a meek voice two days before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who had she been to him?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jenny once had red curls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe they’d once been lovers?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man with dark skin and kind eyes from yesterday...he’d once known his name, hadn’t he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t know him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He used to be a man of sense...hadn’t he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe companions? He couldn’t remember.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today</span>
  <span> was different…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul was one of the three names he could remember. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul. Emma. Jenny. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How strange it was that he could remember names that weren’t his own.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Has he ever had a name?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man entered the room, a nurse with red hair (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jenny once had red hair)</span>
  </em>
  <span> leading him to sit beside where he was staring into space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Becky,” he said as the nurse left (</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, Jenny, don’t go!). </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes are...almost pitying when he uncomfortably turns down to look at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where was your pity when you let your wife tear me apart, Paul?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Hey, Ted,” the man sighs as he sits down in the chair beside him. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ted.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh...why did that sound so familiar?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was that his name?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Has he ever had a name?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No. He can’t remember ever having a name.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul sighed, “You know...this is the first time I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve </span>
  </em>
  <span>ever initiated a conversation with you…” his eyes flashed with something he couldn’t recognize, “And for that I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guilt?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No. It couldn’t be. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was Paul guilty?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Where was your guilt when you let me be murdered, Paul?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“You know, when Bill told me what he’d seen after coming by yesterday,” he whispered, “I didn’t want to believe it was this bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bad?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was wrong?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s ‘bad’ is letting your wife murder your friend, Paul. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know we tried to convince you to come back to work the other day,” he murmured, “But I did mean it when I said your help could be...I don’t know...something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Work? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Had he ever had a job?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Paul muttered, “I don’t know what else to say…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he ever said much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Other than “Sorry, I don’t have anything.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul stood, “I’m sorry this happened to you….you didn’t deserve this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did I?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It should be you feeling this pain. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No...Paul was a good guy...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It should be you suffering. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little weird...perhaps...but still a good guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You and that whore robot wife of yours. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No...No...</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma murdered him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No...she wouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled at him as he bled out in an alleyway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma was a mean woman, but she’d never-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She watched as he writhed in pain.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t a killer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She turned her back and walked, blood-covered hand in Paul's face as he died.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma couldn’t be a killer…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That bitch enjoyed every second of his death. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was a killer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was she?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Paul looked over his shoulder with a mournful expression on his face as he left the room, “See you around, Ted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Believe me, Paul, you’ll be seeing us sooner than you think. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Paul...was his friend, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Emma…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...deserved to die before she could kill him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They both did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did they?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They did.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would Paul stand by as he watched Emma bleed out?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would Emma smile as life left her body?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would he be free?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Only one way to find out.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear Paul updating the nurse (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not Jenny...Jenny was gone)</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his state, and instead found himself smiling. They’d been wrong when they assumed Paul’s visit hadn’t elicited any response of sorts from the man whose mind was split in two. Though he might not have been able to remember his own name, he remembered what it was like to die, and the people responsible. He remembered the warmth of his own blood as it seeped out onto the cold pavement.  He remembered the chill of three ice blue eyes staring down at him and one warm brown. As if he would ever get to forget the sharpness of the blade slicing into him, severing life off as brutally as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would never forget. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And he would never forgive. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter who he was...did it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It didn’t...what mattered was survival. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>do</span>
  <em>
    <span> anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> did </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>that.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky waited patiently outside of the isolated room, having been tasked with monitoring their patient most carefully. Tapping her feet slightly to a sweet song that was stuck in her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul’s coworker, Ted, had woken up after his ordeal with the portal almost six days prior, and had shown no evidence of responsiveness. Dr. Abadi had taken several scans of the man’s brain, running them through filter after filter, sending sample after sample to the labs to hopefully determine what had happened to the man, but found no evidence that he’d even been in the presence of the portal to begin with. Though he was conscious, he’d not said a single word, staring off into space and refusing to answer any questions, the almost neon appearance of the man’s body that had been reported once he’d been brought in mysteriously vanishing without a trace. The only evidence that the man had ever encountered something strange, was the severe burn that had made it look like he’d been attacked by a cube of some kind. Strangely enough, the only form of responsiveness the man had offered, was his refusal of a skin graft and reconstructive surgery that would allow for his hand to properly function.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because of his lack of response to any doctor or PEIP personnel, John had decided that some of his former coworkers would be granted access to him for around thirty minutes a day, since the man had no family they had on record, in an attempt to coax some sort of response from him. Today it was Paul’s turn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the man had come in, he’d looked nervous. Becky knew that the man wasn’t close to his coworker, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was responsible. He didn’t necessarily have to say anything for Becky to know that Paul somehow took the responsibility for what had happened to Ted on himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she could hear Paul say from behind the slightly open door, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>When Bill told me what he’d seen after coming by yesterday, I didn’t believe that it was this bad.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since coming in, she’d heard Paul talk to the unresponsive man, almost as if he was trying to talk sense into an old friend. She wasn’t allowed to wander far from the room, but she’d tried to give each and every one of Ted’s former coworkers a chance at privacy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First, they’d allowed Charlotte Davies in to see him, since it was Paul’s belief that she was the closest one to him. Of course, the only evidence Paul could offer to support this conclusion was the fact that they’d attempted to secretly (but not-so-secretly, since everyone in their office knew about it) hook up without the knowledge of her husband. Once she’d allowed the meek and quiet woman into the infirmary to see Ted, all she’d been able to hear were quiet whispers and what may have been prayers. Still, Ted had no response and Charlotte left the infirmary with a box of tissues, asking to not be summoned again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day, they’d allowed Bill Woodward in, who’d wanted to get his over with, after Paul had told him about Ted’s case. Becky hadn’t been able to hear much else from the man when he’d been allowed in, but what she couldn’t deny was the fact that the man looked exceedingly guilty when he’d left Ted’s room. Still, no response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole case puzzled Dr. Abadi. The evidence they were presented with, which for now, was largely catatonia and the severe burn in his hand, hadn’t suggested that much was wrong with him. They couldn’t even find an abnormality in his blood. Still, the way he’d come in, looking like someone had made him a human glow stick had suggested otherwise, and therefore, the orders remained to keep Ted isolated and keep trying to bring the Ted Spankoffski everyone else knew back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Paul had tried to inform them on everything he’d known about Ted, there wasn’t much he could offer. Because most medical record databases had been erased during the initial world’s end, Paul only served as a character witness. Apparently, their patient was the self-proclaimed, and acclaimed by other coworkers, ‘horny bastard’ of CCRP. Despite doing next to nothing, the man had his own office, and had made it his mission to make sure nobody else got work done. While Paul said he wouldn’t have considered Ted his friend, Ted was still a person. Maybe a person of questionable character, but still a person whose life was worth saving...even if it was still unclear what was wrong with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since PEIP’s main psychologist had died in the shooting from several months before (back when going outside was still a thing), they’d been trying to see if they could dig one up that would allow for some analysis to be made about his mental state, but they’d still come up empty-handed. All they had was the evidence only Dr. Abadi knew how to interpret, and even </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was left baffled. It was all terribly frustrating, especially since they had Hidgens to deal with now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John had made the decision to let Hidgens help them, but under the condition he lived in the brig for now and worked in a secure lab under guard at all times, should he attempt to do anything unseemly. The idea of working with him was nauseating, and she was constantly reminded of it every time he submitted a request to visit Ted in the infirmary. Requests that she happily denied. Every time she thought of the old man, she was reminded of Tim’s screams as the one who wore Hidgens skin dragged him away, leaving her to choke on the smoke and ash, desperate for breath. She was a generally forgiving person, but she couldn’t forgive the pain he’d put on Tim. The fear and the sadness.  The months of pain and agony that their little family could have been spared had Hidgens never taken Tim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needless to say, she’d done her best to avoid him, instead trying to focus on their patient, and treating him to the best of their ability. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul pulled open the door, allowing her to hear him say something along the lines of ‘See you around, Ted’ before exiting the room, a tired and conflicted look on his face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at Becky, “He’s all yours.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, “Nothing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul shook his head, “Not in the slightest….I was never his biggest fan, but God…” he trailed off, “Seeing him so </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>still...</span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s just...It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even with your abilities,?” she questioned, “Even with those, you couldn’t figure anything out…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul chuckled humorlessly, “I didn’t want to use my powers for that...it just felt wrong…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded in understanding, “I can get that...reading other people’s thoughts must seem-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Intrusive?” Paul finished for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, “Yeah...at least he’s still alive…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he?” Paul muttered under his breath, staring down at the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky was taken aback by the question, “What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, is he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Paul questioned, bitterness and guilt in his tone, “When there’s no semblance of the person he used to be there...can we really consider </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ted </span>
  </em>
  <span>alive?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let her face fall. She understood his meaning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back when she’d been married to Stanley, she’d believed the version of herself that she’d loved, the version of herself that she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be, to be dead and gone. Instead of the Becky Barnes that she wanted to be, there was a pushover of a woman. A woman who could do nothing but watch as the world passed her by. She’d been breathing, but had she really been alive?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No…” she whispered, “I suppose we can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, after Stanley...left...everything had gotten better. She was able to rebuild her life. It was a slow and painful process, with a great deal of pain and nights where she’d been unable to sleep, or days when she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. Eating had been a rarity, and going to work with a smile, even rarer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>PEIP had changed that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she was recruited, she was worried they were going to hold their knowledge of what she’d done against her...but instead they'd given her a home. A clean slate. A chance to make the real Becky Barnes live again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had even brought Tom back to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled slightly at the thought. When he’d left and she got married, she was certain that their paths had diverged for good. She’d watched as he got married, had a kid, but knew she would never be able to enter his life again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How wrong she’d been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, here she was. She and Tom had started living with one another again, agreeing to take things slightly slower than either of them wanted since Tim was still adjusting to half-blindness and life around the base, but they were still together. And she couldn’t remember a time when she was happier. Of course, they all had memories of previous lifetimes, when the three of them were a family. Lifetimes of joy and laughter that were stolen from them, which allowed them to break the barriers of typical awkwardness surrounding it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just happy to have people. A group of them, in fact. People who’d accepted her for who she was, and loved her. She was a valued member of a small family...and that made her feel the most joy she could possibly feel in days as crappy as this. Even in the midst of a global apocalypse, they still managed to have family game nights, all huddled together at John and Xander’s apartment, smiling and laughing as they played games like Monopoly or Clue. Lucy had even joined them a few times, which made her even more happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the new young woman was unfamiliar with a great deal of PEIP’s work, she had taken up a job in childcare, since several children (Tim included, much to Tom’s delight) enjoyed her company, and adored her stories about the Hatchetfield Ape-Man (Who was real, apparently- Although, he hadn’t emerged from the tunnels yet), and there was a great need for it since some people still worked. While she didn’t know Lucy well enough, it was nice to see that they had gained a new friend in the midst of all the pain and wrongdoing they’d had enforced upon them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just glad they were all back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up at the taller man, hoping to bring up a topic that would lighten his spirits. It was evident that the man was guilty to a certain degree about what had happened to his coworker, and Becky was not going to let him leave the infirmary with that downtrodden expression. Regardless of what might have happened on the twenty-third, they could still rejoice in what it was that they did have. They could remain happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s Emma?” she smiled up at him just in time to see a small smile cross his face, as if the mere mention of the name was enough to send him back into a small amount of joy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d noticed how significantly healthier he’d looked since Emma had come back. Before they’d even known that Emma and the others were alive, he had been gaunt and skinnier than normal, in a way that couldn’t have been healthy for a man his height. His eyes had looked sunken and exhausted, and he’d looked like a broken marionette, being tugged along through the aspects of everyday life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that was not the case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d gained a little bit of weight, and he had a small spark of life in his eyes again. He no longer walked as though he were being dragged, and overall, looked like he had more energy than he had beforehand. This was even more clear when he was around Emma, always filled with some form of joy. Small smiles and adoring glances at the much smaller woman, in some ways reminding her of the way Tom looked at her. God, if Tom hadn’t already convinced her as much, those two made her realize that love definitely existed (even if Emma was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>outwardly romantic person Becky knew of). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s good,” Paul nodded before his brows furrowed a little, “She wasn’t feeling good this morning, but it wasn’t enough to keep her out of work and she has PT today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s therapy coming along for her?” Becky asked, glad to see how his features were brightening up already. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s doing great!” he smiled, his eyes sparkling in admiration of the woman they were talking about “She still thinks the prototype pinches, but she’s been a warrior through it all! Sometimes it’s rough and she gets frustrated, but she’s really doing amazing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the prototype Rodney’s working on for her?” Becky asked, “How’s that coming along?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After she and the others had been returned to PEIP, Rodney had been commissioned by Xander to work on some sort of prosthesis for Emma. One that would allow her to get around without much hassle. Strangely enough, PEIP had never had a specialist to work on and design prosthetics, so the fact that they were making one for Emma was uncharted waters, but she knew that Emma and Paul appreciated the gesture all the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s coming along,” he nodded, “I think Emma just wants to be completely mobile again and is getting impatient.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded, “I can understand that...but at the very least she’s progressing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heck yeah, she is,” Paul smiled, making Becky smile at the amount of pride in his voice. Suddenly, his voice softened and he looked down, “Becky...can I ask for your advice on something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised her eyebrows, “O-of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul sighed, “I...um...I want to ask Tim for something...his approval...because I know Jane can’t and...Well, Emma wouldn’t like it if I went to Tom and asked...but you’re close to Tom and Tom and I trust your opinion-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled when she recognized the bashfulness in his tone. As he continued to ramble on, she noticed how deep his blush became. There was only one question that could be in his mind that was causing him to ramble this much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul,” she smiled softly, cutting him off before he could run off with his thoughts, “Are you planning on asking Emma to marry you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The relief that swelled over the man’s face as his blush deepened was almost comical, like watching a cartoon character who’s just consumed an ungodly amount of hot sauce was given a glass of milk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed breathlessly, “Yeah...yeah…” he inhaled and exhaled sharply, “I mean...I’ve been thinking about it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thinking about it?” She raised an eyebrow with a small smile, “You’re not sure?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um...no...no,” he said, his voice almost caught in a nervous chuckle, “I’m sure...I mean...God, she’s amazing...I just don’t know-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled comfortingly as he trailed off, looking almost uncertain of himself, “You’re not sure if she wants the same thing as you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and looked down, nodding, “Yeah...that’s why I want your input...do I go for it...or just wait?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depends,” she spoke as calmly and officially as she could, “What is it that you want?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused for a moment, almost as if he hadn’t stopped to ask himself that question, “Well…first I want to ask Tim for his blessing...I don’t know why...it just feels right to ask him first, rather than Tom-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I asked, Paul,” Becky laughed, “What do you want?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused again, a small smile, almost nervous but sure, crossing his face, “I want to marry Emma…” he laughed as he said the words, almost as if he were speaking an unfamiliar language that he instantly decided he liked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to marry Emma.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled wide, “There you go…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what if that’s not what she wants?” Paul asked, looking up with vague anxiety in his eyes, “I mean...she used to say she never wanted to get married, and things are so good right now... I mean, ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emphasis on ‘used to’,” Becky pointed out, “There’s no telling what her thoughts are now...but you know you’ll never know if you don’t ask…and even if she says no, which I sincerely doubt she will, that’s not going to be the end of you guys...other people, maybe...but not you two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul’s eyes softened as he considered Becky’s words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Becky was wondering why he would ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all people for advice on marriage. Practically everyone in Hatchetfield knew how disastrous her impulse-marriage to Stanley Peterson had been. Poor little Becky Barnes, left heartbroken after Tommy-boy went off to war, finding comfort by throwing herself into the arms of the first guy she saw. Back then, she’d been so determined to prove those rumors that Stanley was just a rebound wrong that it was too late by the time she realized how much of a bastard he really was. Ten years of her life she wasted because she took every blow he gave her. Ten years while she waited and longed for the days when her heart felt whole. If Paul knew all of this, then why was he coming to her for advice on it. Marriage to Stanley had been the biggest mistake of her life...so why-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Becky,” Paul smiled, “I had a feeling you’d be the best person to talk to about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tried to stifle the somewhat bitter chuckle that built up in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because Tom and Tim trust you,” he said, “Heck, everyone does. And you’ve got a big heart...it’s easier to talk about these things with people like that, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t because of her experience with marriage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t so he could figure out what </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t because she was seeing the man who Paul hoped would be his brother-in-law. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t because she could offer insight to the Houstons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul wanted to talk to her, because her opinion was </span>
  <em>
    <span>valued. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because people trusted her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found herself smiling, “You’re welcome, Paul...I’m glad I could help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, “I’ll see you later then...have a nice day!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned away for a moment, but she called after him, “Oh, and Paul?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” he turned with an eyebrow raised, almost worried that he’d forgotten something, or did something wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded in the direction of Ted’s hospital room, “I’ll let you know if anything changes, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled softly, “Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, he was gone, walking out of the infirmary with a much happier pace, almost more encouraged, rather than dragged down by the lack of progress with Ted. She smiled as she watched him go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom had once told her that he wasn’t sure what Emma saw in the man. That he didn’t take Paul to be the kind of man that Emma would fall in love with...much less the kind of man who would stick around once he’d seen the edges to Emma’s personality, and then he’d been surprised. Not only had Paul stuck around, he’d accepted Emma for every mistake and every scar. In some ways, she knew that even though Emma might have been a restless spirit while he was more sedentary, they were one of those couples who could do anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew because she and Tom were like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though they’d not stepped into anything official just yet, she suddenly found herself feeling like that eighteen year old again. That girl who went into school with a smile on her face because she knew they had first, third, fourth, fifth, and seventh period together. The girl who excelled in science classes and would laugh her head off every time she tried to tutor Tom on it. The girl whose heart would skip a beat every time that old 1987 Mustang would pull into her driveway before school or before a date. The girl who kept  a whole shelf of her bookshelf stocked full of the small wooden carvings he’d give her for no reason (But, God, had she treasured each and every one of them- she was lucky Stanley never found where she kept them). With Tom, she felt like the years that had been wasted in her life were nonexistent. With him, she felt like she was young and happy again. God, she’d missed that. The ease. The joy. The way she felt so carefree around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Barnes,” she was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of Dr. Abadi’s voice&gt; She looked over to where the woman in question was “Can you come here for a second?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded and followed the woman over to where she was standing, in front of a light panel in which they could view scans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gracefully, Dr. Abadi placed an old familiar scan on the panel and illuminated it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the scan of a person’s brain, dark shades of purple, blue, and indigo swirling around where the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex were located. She recognized the scan, which resembled a shitty graffiti job more than a scan, immediately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Emma’s scan from last July, right?” she asked, turning to Kamaria, who nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought I should take them out of records to compare them to Mr. Spankoffski’s scans,” Dr. Abadi whispered officially, “Figured they might provide insight as to what exactly is going on with him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky raised an eyebrow, “I thought Rodney’s software didn’t reveal anything?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought so too,” the doctor whispered, her brown eyes wide, “But then I saw this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right next to Emma’s scan, the doctor moved a different scan onto the panelling. Much like the previous scans they’d looked at since Ted had become catatonic. Becky could see no color. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna have to run me through this, Kam,” she spoke, staring at the features of Ted’s brain, “I can’t see anything abnormal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t either,” she whispered, “But look closer, especially around the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex, Rodney’s software </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>pick something up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky leaned in closer, examining the indicated areas, seeing almost nothing unusual in the shades of grey and black and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squinted and stared closer at the scan, where she finally was able to make out what Dr. Abadi was referring to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a small smear of an extremely dark shade of purple, around the hippocampus, so dark and so small, and yet, right in front of them. The shade was so dark, it might as well have been black...but it wasn’t. It was right there, in front of their faces, and yet, they’d had to look much closer to see it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to Dr. Abadi, “Holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor nodded, “I’ve never seen any shade that dark, even with Rodney’s software.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it mean?” Becky asked, “What level of damage could it pertain to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Kamaria shook her head, “But the fact that it's around the same areas as Emma’s initial scans showed from last summer, it could have something to do with memory…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed, shuddering at the thought of Emma’s black blood, pouring from her nose, eyes, and ears as she struggled to grapple at memories of Paul, John, and Ethan. She’d been so sure that Emma wouldn’t have survived, with as bad as she was getting, and Emma did die...according to Hidgens from almost a week before. If this was anything remotely like that…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna summon John and Xander,” Abadi said decisively, “You go be with the patient and do not leave his side until we get there, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded and turned on her heel, moving as quickly as she could to Ted’s room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, she hoped the man was suffering the same as Emma had…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped in her tracks as she came to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had she left it open?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart pounding in her chest, she bolted forwards, running into the room and stopping as she took in the sight before her, making her heart drop in her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> The bed was completely empty, the sheets and blankets tossed aside so that they were hanging almost entirely off of the bed, IV’s left abandoned on the bed as though they’d been tugged out (making her cringe), and no Ted Spankoffski. Even worse, the thick bandages that had been covering his mutilated hand were abandoned, torn up and strewn about the bed like flowers upon a grave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Abadi walked in just in time to hear Becky curse and her eyes widened when they fell on the state of the room, echoing Becky’s curse under her breath. Without thinking, Becky lifted her transponder to her lips, quickly muttering Xander’s code under her breath. No doubt John would be there too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is Lee.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xander,” she breathed, her heartbeat intensely pounding in her throat, making her voice sound strained, “Xander...Spankoffski’s missing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the back of her mind she was able to hear Dr. Abadi, back in the main ward, shouting at other nurses asking them if they’d seen where their previously catatonic patient had gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did anyone see him go?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s voice echoed back at her, confirming her suspicion that the two were together and prompting an answer from her quickly, “No...it doesn’t look like it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the other side of the comm line, she could hear John say something to Xander about getting his eyes on Hidgens, and her stomach clenched. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it possible that only a week after allowing Hidgens back into their ranks he would have done something to jeopardize them all? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of her felt guilty for wanting to have faith in the man’s humanity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’ll get available operatives to start searching,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>John told her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You examine the wards, but go about your business as normal, we don’t want the other medical staff to be worried, okay?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” She nodded and swallowed, looking over her shoulder and repeating the instructions for Dr. Abadi, hating how excited she was getting. For all she knew, Ted had walked up and gone into some sort of fugue state, just wandering around and not actually being in any danger.  Perhaps they were all worried for no reason. She tried not to think of the shades of purple that painted the deepest insides of his brain as she tried not to think about what this could possibly mean. Almost a full week and Ted hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary for someone in his condition. She just hoped the man wasn’t in any danger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost completely missed the small curse from Xander and John’s side of the line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she asked, holding the transponder close to her ear so she could better hear him, “What’s wrong.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hidgens isn’t in his lab, and neither are the guards.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma sighed softly to herself as she dropped another failed slide into the wastebin, adjusting her leg from where it was positioned so what was left of her leg could get the slightest sensation of movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today was one of the days where she’d try and get through while wearing the prototype prosthetic Xander had arranged for her, as after her shift she had around forty-five minutes of physical therapy. She hated these days. She always returned back to the apartment feeling sore, and weak and tired, hating her leg, and hating the fact that in a time where having her own two legs that she could walk steadily on would be most beneficial, she’d lost one of them. Not only that, but she’d woken up with both a headache and a stomach ache, but was too stubborn to admit to Paul that they came in a combo. Therefore she had made the mistake of not listening to her body (for the fifth time this week) and gone to work, under the excuse that she had a lot of work to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be honest, she didn’t really have much to work on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the blood samples that Xander had offered her hadn’t been enough for her to make conclusive evidence as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly had been the cause of death for all of those operatives. Other than the fact that Schaeffer had sent them to their deaths, there wasn’t much that would indicate they’d died of anything other than sudden cardiac arrest. She’d not found any microbes, or anything that looked inhuman...anything that would baffle them and point towards Webby. Rather, all she’d found was </span>
  <em>
    <span>regular </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood. It didn’t make sense to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless of however many dead ends she was allowed to meet, it was nice to make herself useful somewhere. She knew that she and Paul would have both been driven out of their minds if they were stuck in the apartment. Paul was settling back into his routine nicely, and seemed happy, which gave her enough motivation to make it through the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She only wished she could just look at him and make all of the frustrations go away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d already had their lunch break, which had been a small affair. She’d not been very hungry, so she’d stomached some bland rice and ignored the throbbing in her head that had been painfully persistent. For the most part they’d just talked about what was left on their agendas for the remainder of the day, as Paul was supposed to visit Ted to coax some sort of response out of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since he’d woken up six days ago, nobody had been able to make the man respond, allowing them to categorize his case as catatonia. She supposed that made sense, as the man wasn’t being responsive after going through something that was undoubtedly traumatic. They just didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly had happened, since security cameras in the portal sector, and everywhere else Lex had recounted had mysteriously ‘shut off’. The whole thing was vexing to her. She couldn’t believe that everything had been fine for a month and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>boom, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a whole heap of shit had just come crumbling down on top of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced at the clock for the sixth time this afternoon. The whole day had just felt like a drag. Between feeling sick this morning and the headache that seemed like it was going to mutate into a migraine, she just wanted to go home, maybe let Paul rub her back, since that always seemed to calm them both down. It wasn’t like she was checking the clock because she hated this job, she just hated this day in particular. Maybe she could cancel her plans for physical therapy this afternoon, even if it interfered with her plans of becoming as mobile as she could possibly be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cursed under her breath and eyed the small chart she’d made of all the samples she’d run. Out of twenty-seven tests she’d run, every single sample had failed to bring up anything noteworthy (other than a hematocrit that indicated one of the operatives had been anemic, which checked out with his previous file), and she was left feeling disheartened. It did help that she now had her own private lab workspace now. It distanced her from Hidgens, whom she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted, and it also kept her away from other people who would see her frustration. Of course, John and Xander could see it reflected in her reports, but at the very least the physical notability of it was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, she was tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, she wasn’t nearly as tired as she was when they still lived in those caves, but the previous week had been a drag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Paul had been as encouraging as always. He always looked at everything she did with genuine pride and happiness, as if the mere sight of her conducting mundane activities gave him joy. She couldn’t tell where his head was at nowadays, but he never ceased to be as loving and amazing as usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ran a hand through her hair, stifling a small yawn as she set to work on another sample. Maybe this time, she could try and find some-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>CREAK…</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> The sound of the old door to her lab station, which most definitely needed to be oiled made her jump. It was probably Xander, coming to see her reports. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Xan,” she sighed, not even bothering to turn around and look at him since her body protested much movement. When he didn’t respond she sighed heavily and forced herself to turn around in her stool, “The daily reports should be ready in about an hour, you can-”   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused as she took in the sight before her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T-Ted?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of Xander, who she would have much rather seen, there was Ted, wearing a papery hospital gown and staring her down as if caught in a trance. His hands hanging limply at his sides as he stared at her. She tried not to eye the ugly-looking burn on his right hand, which made her stomach lurch at the sight of the shriveled flesh in her periphery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What...what are you...doing here?” she managed to stammer out as she got over the initial shock of seeing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said nothing, instead tilting his head slightly in a way that sent an unpleasant shiver up his spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How had he found his way all the way down here? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did the infirmary just </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>him wander around?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had they even noticed he was missing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do…” she sighed, “Do they know you’re down here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, nothing. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, this was not something she needed. Not today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and got up out of her chair, walking painstakingly slowly over to the man, gesturing for him to come into the lab space and sit down, “Why don’t you sit down? I can call the medics and they can get you back to the infirmary,” she let out a small chuckle, “I guess they’re wondering where you are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, no response. So unlike the Ted she knew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallowed down another sigh. She may not have necessarily liked Ted, but she did know that he was undeserving of this. He didn’t deserve to be used in the way Webby and her cronies had to be using him. But because they were using him, or had done something to him, she knew she had to remain vigilant.  Out of the corner of her eye, she eyed her transponder, left on her desk. If she could get him to sit down, she could easily call the medics before he found himself wandering off anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gently, she took his good hand in hers with a sigh, “C’mon, I’ll call Becky and Dr. Abadi.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slowly led him deeper into the room, unnerved by the fact that he was saying nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is so strange, man,” she chuckled, “Usually you start the talking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled out a stool from the nearby lab table, turning her back on him for only a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Funny…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A raspy voice made her blood run cold. She froze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You didn’t let me talk when last we saw each other.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned around to see that his once non expressive gaze had turned almost wild, almost fearful in the way he regarded her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-you just…” she stammered, hating the way her voice was shaky and the way her heart was pounding in her chest, “They said you weren’t talking…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallowed hard and straightened up, refusing to give the man the high ground in this case. He was hurt and probably confused, there was no way she was talking to Ted of sound mind and body (if that version of Ted had ever existed). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let a small grin cross his face, but his hazel eyes were cold and emotionless, “Yeah, they said a lot of things...Paul said my name is Ted...but something about that doesn’t sound right.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something didn’t seem right with the way he was speaking, “Y-Your name is Ted,” she tried to get a grip on her voice, hating the way her instincts were screaming at her to shrink back, to run. Instead, she just kept in mind that Ted needed help. This was still Ted. He was probably just trying to get under her skin, “Y-You work with Paul…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul…” the man spat out the word, “A friend...huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t understand his meaning, “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul was my friend right?” He said bitterly, walking around her, making her feel like roadkill that vultures were circling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She bit down on her lip, unsure of what to tell him, “I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Exactly,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He spat, “You see, if he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good friend...he wouldn’t have let me die…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ted,” she spoke as carefully as she could, trying not to upset the clearly confused and discombobulated man in front of her, “Ted...you’re not dead, okay?” she tried to move away from where she was standing, eyeing her transponder, “Ted I can get you help...Just let me call-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand shot out and caught her arm before she could make a move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ted,” she kept her voice as steady and as threatening as she could, “Let me go...</span>
  <em>
    <span>now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clicked his tongue and shook his head, pacing closest to her, “I ain’t done, sweetheart…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some form of rage stirred in her heart, she spoke as forcefully as she could, trying to wrench her arm from his grip, her leg hurting immensely suddenly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ted...</span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t want to have to hurt you...but you're scaring me-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh you’re scared?” he sneered as he moved closer to her, his grip not faltering as it threatened to separate the two bones in her arm. She stifled a small scream of pain as she smelled the painfully disgusting stench of his breath, “So was I...and newsflash, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma- </span>
  </em>
  <span>if that even is your name- that didn’t stop you from hurting me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ted, what hell are you talking about-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From killing me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Killing you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she almost shrieked at the outrageous nature of the comment. She stifled a small gasp as the pain from his grip increased tenfold, “Ted...</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re hurting me</span>
  </em>
  <span>...stop…please...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed lowly under his breath, and she watched in horror as his hazel irises were suddenly flooded by the bright neon blue light that had vanished after they’d gotten him out of the portal room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned in closer so he could whisper in her ear, clearly taking satisfaction as she shook, her fear almost completely consuming her as she desperately tried to wrench herself from his grip. She tried to headbutt him from her position, sending the top of her head into his nose, and though she could feel his nose break under the force of her head hitting his face, she couldn’t shake him. His grip tightened and he shook her, knocking her from her feet and making her residual limb flare up in pain as she let out a surprised yelp, looking up to see blood pouring from his nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked her dead in the eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I won’t let you kill me again, bitch.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could even think of the meaning behind that statement, she was thrown down, his grip on her arm leaving , but her face colliding with the hard linoleum floor before she could think to catch herself. Agony flared up in her face as she felt her nose undoubtedly break and blood began to pour in cascades down her face. She could feel and taste it, staining her teeth and shirt as it covered her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let out a small cry of pain as she felt a rough hand grab her hair and shove her face into the floor again, causing more blood to pour and her ears to ring as the world spun. Before her head could get savagely slammed into the floor again, she felt a yank of agony at her residual limb, and before she could look, she saw that he had pulled the prosthetic from her limb, limiting whatever shitty movement she could manage. She tried to scramble forward, crying out in pain as her leg flared up in agony. She couldn’t make sense of whatever it was that she was screaming, but her throat was hoarse enough to know that she was going to die here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand found her hair again and ripped her head upward, his shrivelled, but strangely strong hand coming to clasp around her throat, and before she knew it, she was being lifted off of her feet, by the neck, and slammed into the wall brutally. Terror filled her, mixing with the agony in a way that made her want to throw up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world wouldn’t stop spinning as the air was knocked free from her lungs. She wasn’t even allowed the mercy to cough as this was repeated. When she forced one of her eyes, which was going to be swollen, no doubt, to open she saw Ted, smiling as he looked at her. Looking sadistic as he held her off of her feet, clearly taking satisfaction as her one good leg dangled off of the ground. His fingers painfully tightened around her throat </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T-Ted,” she rasped, the words sounding empty as she gasped for air, “T-Ted...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spots spun in her vision as he didn’t respond...but for a moment, she could have sworn that a small inkling of something like...terror...crossed his gaze, before it was replaced again by the sadistic joy with which he was suffocating her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“P-Paul…” she gasped as darkness tugged at the corners of her vision, “P-Pau…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ted sneered at her, tightening his grip on her and moving in closer, “Don’t worry, Emma, Paul’s gonna join you next...But he has a soul...he’ll go to Hell...you however...well, you’ll just be gon-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>BANG!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ted howled in pain as a bloom of red formed at his shoulder. He let go of her instantly, sending her tumbling to the ground in pained gasps, the agony wracking her body making tears pour down her face as she writhed on the ground, gulping down precious oxygen as her entire body felt raw and bruised. The taste of blood overwhelmed her senses, making her eyes sting and her throat feel raw as hoarse sobs and gasps left her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emma!?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A familiar voice clouded her senses as the world spun. She could see only the ceiling as the familiar face of Hidgens appeared in her vision, his eyes wide as he took her in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma, It’s okay,” he was saying, his urgent words blurred together as her ears rang, “Emma it’s okay...I incapacitated him...you’re gonna be fine, dear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul…” she whispered before her breath spasmed into weak coughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Hidgens was saying, as the doors to her area were slammed open again, “It’s okay...Paul will be there...we’re gonna get you some help. Okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> She could hear more voices. One possibly Xander’s. One may have been John’s. She could hear someone shouting about getting medics, but it was all blurred. Someone telling her everything was going to be okay. Someone shouting about getting Paul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could do nothing to stop the unconsciousness that dragged her into its depths, sparing her from the agony her body was in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could only think of Paul before her eyes fell shut and the world went black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby smiled to herself as she watched the events unfold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tinky truly was the master at this. Of course, it was a bother that Emma was still alive, but problems like that could be remedied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was still time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all, now that she thought about it, what was the fun of killing Emma before she could make them suffer even more?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, in the end it was good that Emma was still alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma...and then some…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled as Tinky rematerialized beside her, clearly pleased with himself as his toothy grin was turned up at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, her little brother was so precious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And soon her other siblings would get their turn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was like what the humans called family game night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it had only just begun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ran her hand through her brother’s yellowing hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well done.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...just when you think we might get a break from the madness this happens.</p>
<p>I'm fairly certain that's the darkest thing I've written for this fic (and I mean this sincerely when I say that hopefully it didn't send anyone into distress because I know that was a lot, especially for this fic).</p>
<p>In other news, Becky Barnes is perfect.</p>
<p>At least Emma’s alive...but what could all of this mean?</p>
<p>Also, we've gone from Fuck June Schaeffer 2020 to Fuck Webby 2021.</p>
<p>Please leave a comment or kudos, I would really like to hear your feedback on this one!! I really hope that it wasn't as bad as I think it is, just writing it was a lot for me, personally, so I would like to be sure. </p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading and sticking out with my long chapters!! I really hope you've been enjoying this fic!! Please have a wonderful and safe day!!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Underneath Everything Just a Human Being</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ted’s mind is tearing itself apart.<br/>Paul is told what happened.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song ‘Just Breathe’ by Pearl Jam.</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Bruises, Ted, mentions of murder attempt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: January 29th, 2019</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The man's mind was at war with himself as he thrashed and screamed, the more primal and destroyed side of his brain taking over every physical action as rough hands strapped him down to a gurney so they could seal up the wound that a bullet had left behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could do nothing but squirm and move as people struggled to hold the unearthly strong man who’d previously been catatonic down. He could hear them saying things, talking about getting sutures ready to seal up the wound, making sure there was no damage done to his insides as the bullet had gone through, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t care as his head continued to scream at itself, each mind answering back even louder in a way that made the world spin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he was rolled down, further into the depths of the infirmary, far away from where they were likely keeping the woman he’d attacked (</span>
  <em>
    <span>his enemy- murderous android bitch)</span>
  </em>
  <span> alive (</span>
  <em>
    <span>they shouldn’t be...she was the killer...not him)</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he tried to silence both sides of the mind that was ripping itself to shreds, making him scream louder, like he’d been possessed by a demon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t wanted to hurt Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, how wonderful it had been to see her bleed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul loved Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul was a liar. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could trust Paul’s judgement, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul watched as that robotic bitch slaughtered him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma may have been a bitch, but she wouldn’t have hurt him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She relished in the sounds of his screams as he died. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The terror on her face… it shook him to his core.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The terror on her face...what he wouldn’t give to see it again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way she’d pleaded with him for her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He would have liked to hear that again as he finished it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to kill Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He wished he’d finished the job. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma didn’t deserve to die...bitchy or not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma deserved to bleed out as she writhed in agony against the floor. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul didn’t deserve to suffer that loss...not again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He would have dragged her body to Paul and watched him shatter before he killed him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were his friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were his enemies. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They would have had his back...right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They didn’t care about his life. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, what had he offered them in friendship?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It didn’t matter what he’d offered them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t exactly make himself a likely candidate for friendship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What mattered was what they’d taken from him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he so miserable?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why was he so weak?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was happening to him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why had the Master given him a second chance?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would he ever be free?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d never be free.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t hurt them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d make them pay. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t let the sadistic goat win. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d follow his Master’s every order...then maybe the laughter would go away. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is exactly what he wanted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was his mind. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had his own life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His life was the Master’s now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t give up...right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He belonged to the box. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All </span>
  </em>
  <span>he</span>
  <em>
    <span> could</span>
  </em>
  <span> do </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>give </span>
  <em>
    <span>up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they finally opened up another chamber in the lower levels of the infirmary, someone placing an IV and pumping a sedative through it, he suddenly found himself sinking into a pit of despair. He was weak...what did he have in life to fight for anyway? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he was dragged under by the power of the sedative, the sleep pulling the voices away, but not the laughter of the maniac Goat’s, what was left of Ted Spankoffski allowed the tears to fall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul’s heart thudded in his chest, making his throat and lungs feel raw as he ran for the infirmary. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly been filled with so much adrenaline, but it was what kept him moving as quickly as possible through the many winding hallways that lead to the painfully familiar infirmary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not even half an hour after his visit with Ted, he’d been summoned by </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>Becky and Xander to return to the infirmary, with no explanation of why, or what had happened to warrant his presence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He figured it had something to do with Ted. After all, Becky had told him that she would notify him if anything changed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was unnerving, however, was the manner by which both Becky and Xander summoned him back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul, we need you in the infirmary immediately,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been Xander’s message, delivered as officially and urgently as per usual, but something had been off. Usually, Xander at the very least gave him some form of context, which either meant that something had happened that Xander wasn’t keen on letting other people know about, or Paul was needed for something specific. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul, come down to the infirmary now,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been Becky’s message, so different from her usual calm and patient nature, which had most definitely made it clear to him that something was wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had to be Ted-related. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why else would both Xander and Becky be calling him to the infirmary? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had he taken a turn for the worse? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had they actually gotten a response out of him? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What if they could finally ask him about what had happened on the twenty-third?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless, of what had happened, he knew that he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of knowing their reasoning if he didn’t pick up his pace and get there as soon as possible. It was this knowledge that had driven him up from his work-station and out of the offices offering little explanation to Bill.He skidded to a stop as he came to the doors that lead to the main infirmary. He dug through his pocket, searching for his ID card so he would be allowed access into the main hallway when the sound  of a familiar voice caught his attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He whirled around to see Tom, dressed in his full PEIP uniform running down the hallway, almost careening into several other operatives and agents who looked upon the pair of men as if they were mad. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Did</span> <span>Becky and</span> <span>Xander summon you too?” Paul asked as the man approached, still searching through his pockets for his ID card. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Tom nodded, “Any idea what this is about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Paul muttered, glancing down at his hands to make sure he was searching the correct pocket. God, he didn’t even have much in the pockets...why was it so hard to find it, “But I think it’s about Ted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom took the opportunity to use his own ID card to unlock the doors, “Do you think it’s anything serious?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul shrugged as the bigger man pulled the door open, “Becky sounded worried, though...I’m just not trying to let my head run away with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom nodded gruffly, “Hopefully Hidgens hasn’t done anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul nodded. Ever since Hidgens had come back everyone had been on a knife’s edge of whether or not they should trust him, leaning more towards the ‘don’t trust him side’. Everyone, it was, except for Tim. Tom had taken a swan dive off of the ‘don’t trust Hidgens’ cliff, and honestly, Paul couldn’t blame him, especially not after what Hidgens had done to Tim. While he didn’t necessarily hate the man to the degree that Tom did,  he was unsure that he could forgive the man for what had happened to Tim, regardless of whether or not it was the Hidgens that was good or possessed by some Being of the Black and White. So far, however, it had been a week, and he’d not done anything suspicious, and Emma had often told him that she sometimes forgot that they couldn’t trust him entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded in thanks as Tom allowed him through the door, and closed it behind them, the two of them shuffling into the wide hall-like room of the infirmary waiting area. Almost instantly, his eyes fell on a group of people talking together whilst huddled. He noticed out of the periphery of his vision that Tom stiffened considerably when he realized Hidgens was amongst them. He also noted how worried Becky looked, and defeated John and Xander almost looked. Hidgens, however, was staring at the ground, as if deep in thought...but also, worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had happened? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where on Earth did you get a gun?” Xander was saying, sounding tired and exasperated at the same time. What concerned Paul even more, however, was the fact that he was addressing</span>
  <em>
    <span> Hidgens</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your operatives are really easy to pickpocket,” Hidgens muttered, “Just be glad I had one and he didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you get there so quickly?” John asked, furrowing his brow as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Better yet, how did he? He was three levels above hers and on the complete opposite side of the wing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul eyed Tom in confusion as they approached the group. Becky’s eyes widened as they fell on the men approaching them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank God,” she breathed as they came closer, snapping the other’s attention upward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a chill down his spine, Paul noticed John stiffen, his hands curling into fists at his sides and his jaw clenching. While normally, Paul would have worried that he was about to face an angry man, he noticed something that looked...piteous...in John’s eyes. Almost as if he was afraid to tell Paul something. Xander almost looked pale as he looked up. Hidgens however, after looking up at the two men, retreated again to stare at the beaten-up hardwood floors of the waiting room, avoiding eye contact with anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom, in his usual gruff nature approached the group, looking almost as if he was already expecting the worst, “What’s happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody said anything, making Paul’s insides suddenly feel as if they had frozen. Normally at least one of the people who stood before him would be able to tell him what had happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carefully and quietly, he turned to Becky, who looked like she was searching for the correct words to say, “Is Ted okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All four of them seemed to stiffen at the mention of the name, making Paul worry more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What weren’t they telling him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” he asked as calmly as he could, hating the way his voice was shaking. He may not have been Ted’s biggest fan, but the man certainly didn’t deserve to- Oh, God, they were going to tell him that Ted had died, weren’t they?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind was racing as he turned to John, who looked like he was looking for the best way to deliver bad news. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul,” Xander whispered under his breath, “You may want to sit down for this…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t move from his place and instead muttered under his breath, “Okay...okay...okay...okay, you...um, you obviously have some news for me...news that might be hard for me to swallow...um…” he bit down on his lip and sat down in a nearby chair, mentally preparing himself for the news that his coworker would be dead, “Um...hit me with it...I guess?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom,” Becky said softly, “You sit down too…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom looked very confused for a moment before he sat beside Paul, glancing from the group of four to Paul, their shared confusion and trepidation seeming to fill the room with a quiet tension. A tension that could easily be snapped by the smallest amount of pressure from a knife’s point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beck,” Tom whispered, his eyes wide as he studied the nurse, who looked very small all of the sudden, “Tell us what’s wrong...please…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John swallowed and cleared his throat, “Well...first of all, nobody’s dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the words being supposed to be some form of comfort, Paul didn’t feel any more at ease. He could tell from the way Tom was sitting that he too, wasn’t relieved at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander lightly slapped his husband on the arm, “What the hell kind of a way is that to start a report?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Best to get that out of the way before anyone panics,” John reasoned, again causing Paul no more ease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would we panic, John?” Tom asked, sounding like he was mere moments from grinding his teeth into dust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed and turned to Paul and Tom, “Well...to put it simply, Paul, Ted will be fine…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will be?” Paul asked, hating the way his voice wavered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She means that Ted’s not our primary concern as of right now,” Xander said quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell does that mean?” Tom asked, sounding like he was starting to get agitated, “You know all of this beating-around-the-bush isn’t putting anyone at ease, so why don’t you just rip the band-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ted attacked Emma.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky, John, and Xander turned to Hidgens, whose gaze remained transfixed on the ground just as Paul felt his heart stop for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly the world was spinning, his ears ringing as his breathing suddenly became ragged. The words hadn’t entirely sunk in by the time he could finally move himself to speak, his hands shaking as he felt anxiety and worry unlike anything fill him. All of his thoughts went to Emma as his mind raced against the wind of doubt and fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> They said she’d been attacked...well, what did ‘attacked’ pertain to? How badly had she been hurt? Had she been hurt? Oh God, they said nobody was dead...but had there been a ‘yet’ that he’d not heard? How the hell had he gotten to her when he was catatonic? How had they allowed this to happen? How could he be allowed to just wander to wherever she was and bring her harm? Anger and fear whirled inside his mind. What possessed him to bring the woman who meant more to him than the whole world harm? Why had he hurt her? What would happen to either of them now? Was Emma hurt within an inch of her life? All of these questions and worries circulated in the whirlpool of his mind as he compelled himself to speak in a quiet rasp. Every fiber of his being begged him to stand and run to find her. Find her side and stay there, but he was frozen to his seat as he imploringly looked up at Becky, fighting against the tears that were building up in his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed and looked at Tom, who’d gone pale and rigid, “After you left...after you visited him, Dr. Abadi took me aside to look at his scans...I went back to check on him...and he was gone…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Tom asked, glaring up at the three men, his voice sounding strained “How does a catatonic man just disappear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know,” Xander whispered, “But less than fifteen minutes after Becky found Ted to be missing, a gunshot was heard within Emma’s lab space…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul’s heart lurched in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh God, Emma had been shot-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And we found Hidgens had shot Ted in the shoulder…” Xander finished, “From the looks of it, he saved Emma’s life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom laughed without any humor, almost as if he were mere seconds from an outburst, “There’s a lot of information missing in between those two events, Xander.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was attacking her,” Hidgens muttered under his breath, his own voice sounding shaky, “I don’t know why, but I found myself in her hallway...and I heard screaming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma had been screaming. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why had nobody heard it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why hadn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>he</span>
  <em>
    <span> heard it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul felt like he was going to be sick as the old man continued, not looking up from the space on the floor that he was staring at it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I made it to her lab,” Hidgens inhaled and exhaled sharply, “He had her pinned against the wall, holding her up off of her feet...it looked like he’d torn off the prosthetic, strangling her...he was trying to kill her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul felt sick again, and buried his face in his hands as Tom took in a shaky breath, asking the question that had been on his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How bad?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed, “By the time we got there, there was a great deal of blood…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t answer the question, John,” Tom growled, “How bad?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky inhaled and exhaled sharply, “From the looks of it, she’d been slammed against the wall several times...and the floor too...her nose was broken...and judging from what I was able to see, multiple contusions. It didn’t look like any of her airways had been crushed...but had Dr. Hidgens not intervened…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He would have killed her,” John finished, looking down at the ground, “And we have no idea why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But she’s alive?” Tom asked, once again voicing Paul’s thoughts as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one who could read minds, “She’ll live?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded, “She was unconscious when they got her here, and I wasn’t allowed in to work with her, but from what I saw...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul sighed, allowing a shaky breath to leave him as he curled in tighter on himself, his mind racing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ted had hurt Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma, who’d done nothing to Ted but maybe outwit him a few times (with very little effort), had been attacked and hurt for no reason that anyone could think of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma was hurting because of him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind was still running in circles as Tom spoke again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do we know it was Ted,” Tom spoke bitterly, tossing his head in Hidgens’ direction, “And that it wasn’t him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens looked taken aback, “I-I beg your pardon?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ Tom please…” Becky whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do we know that he didn’t beat Emma within an inch of her life,” Tom whispered, anger seeping into his voice as he stood, “And blame it on Ted, saying it was a trick of the Black and White?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because we’ve seen the security footage,” John sighed, sounding like he hated himself for viewing such a thing, “And it was Ted….from the looks of it, he just...appeared there, mere minutes after disappearing from the infirmary, right outside Emma’s door...and within seconds was-” He stopped himself from completing the sentence and Paul could feel the man’s gaze turn on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom laughed humorlessly, “Then, how did he know to go find Emma? How’d he know to bring a gun?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s complicated,” Hidgens sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well take the time to explain it,” Tom snarled, “Because I’ve got a sister-in-law that’s still alive and I want to know why you let it get that far.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom, that’s not fair,” Becky reasoned, stepping between Tom and Hidgens, almost making Tom step back and cool off mildly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No...it’s fine,” Hidgens sighed, before looking up, “I made a promise to someone who was very dear to you once…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not an answer,” Tom said carefully standing from his seat so he was eye-level with the man before him. Paul didn’t bother looking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jane Perkins gave me the opportunity to have my life back,” Hidgens whispered, “The life that was stolen from me, back when I was younger than all of you are now...In return, I vowed to protect those she loved with my life if it came down to it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Tom laughed bitterly, “Wonderful job you’re doing there, man. My sister-in-law is in there, hurting, because you took too long to do the fucking job my dead wife gave you. Wonderful job there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom,” John scolded lightly, keeping his voice calm enough to make Tom shut up, “That’s enough...we’re all worried about Emma...but that’s no reason to bite his head off. Right now, we need to worry about figuring out </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>Emma was attacked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom went silent for a moment and Paul took in another shaky breath. He felt like his insides were being torn apart with worry as he tried to find a way to focus himself. Trying to find something to hold onto as the noises of the room seemed to rise to a roar in his mind. Tears poured down his face, which he desperately tried to wipe away as Tom sat down again with a heavy sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul,” Becky whispered, still standing between Hidgens and the others, “You okay.?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul laughed humorlessly, unsure of what to say, “What do you want me to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His every thought was with Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where was she? He wanted to be there with her. He didn’t want her to be scared. Emma was the most fearless person he knew, but if she had truly been attacked...she had to be terrified. They’d mentioned that she’d been unconscious? He wanted to be there when she woke up. He didn’t want her to be scared. Every aspect of his instinct cried out to be with Emma. Not being with her right now felt so wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed hard and looked up at Becky as a plea built in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can...Can I see her? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pl-Please…</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky’s eyes softened and he was forced to watch as all of the other’s shifted uncomfortably. He was given his answer before Becky even spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” she whispered, sounding regretful as she spoke, “They’re running scans to make sure there was no brain damage or tissue damage...so no visitors are allowed yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No visitors?” Tom breathed, his eyes softening as “Beck...he’s her-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Becky sighed, her eyes filling with small tears which she wiped away, “But it’s what protocol we’ve got-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>She trailed off slightly as her eyes fell, “I’m sorry...but I’ll let you know as soon as you can come back to see her, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul couldn’t even manage a small nod as he stared at the ground, staring at nothing but woodgrain and the emptiness that consumed him. He wanted to be with Emma. She didn’t like hospitals. Much less being alone in one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens looked up, “I’m...gonna return to Emma’s lab and see if there’s anything I can find…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll go with you,” Xander whispered, clearly not interested in letting the old man out of his sight, “Paul? Do you need anyone to stay with you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Paul could muster the energy to formulate an answer, Tom spoke up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll stay,” he said decisively, “Nobody at Operations expects me back any time soon, anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” John nodded, “We’ll notify you as soon as anything changes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded, “And I promise you, Paul, as soon as they allow people in, I’ll come and get you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul managed a small singular nod in thanks as the group dispersed, leaving him and Tom sitting quietly in the mostly abandoned waiting room, the only sounds being Paul’s ragged breathing and the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside Paul’s mind however, he could hear so much and it was making him feel like his entire world was twisting and contorting around him. He could hear someone in the operations department complaining about reports, a baby crying, someone cursing under their breath as they stubbed their toe, an alarm going off, the beep of a microwave, Bill ranting about Deb to Alice, the beeping of monitors and machinery from the infirmary, several hundred heartbeats at once beating in their own rhythm, each noise pounding in his skull making his world seem like it was constantly spinning. All of them loose threads flying away before he could catch them and find one for him to hold onto. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gasped as the sound of Tom’s voice spoke louder than the other. He glanced at his shoulder to see that Tom had put his hand there but quickly retracted it once he saw that Paul seemingly didn't like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul, just breathe, okay?” he said calmly, “Just breathe with me...follow my pattern, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul looked up at the man and saw that he was counting things out on his fingers, and quickly realized that the man intended for him to follow him. He forced his rapid breathing to cease so he could catch up with Tom’s pattern, but found himself choking on his own breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy, ” Tom said calmly, “Ease into it...okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul managed a small nod as slowly began to attempt to follow Tom’s pattern. Recognizing the rhythm of fours and eights as he slowly but surely managed to follow it, slowing down the anxiety and fear that was eating away at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while, he managed to catch his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Tom nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul didn’t know how to respond. He most certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>was not</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, especially not with the information that had just been dropped on him. Instead he settled on asking Tom a different question, “How’d you...know to do that? How’d you know it would work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jane,” Tom sighed, settling back into his chair as a sort of melancholy look came over him, “After the Iraq disaster, I was diagnosed with PTSD...by Jane, since she had just started her practice...she helped me learn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul chuckled lightly under his breath, despite the lack of humor in his voice, “You married your therapist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom laughed and shrugged, “I mean...we technically didn’t start dating until after she recommended me to a different therapist...but it is a little weird, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul shrugged, “I can’t judge you...it’s your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom nodded, “That it is…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fell into a small silence and Paul stared at the ground again, guilt overcoming him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have known that the world would still be a nightmare that wouldn’t let them go so easily. Honestly, he should have known that he couldn’t be so lax. Yes, he and Emma were happy now that they were back together, but had that happiness made them let their guard down?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t blame yourself for this, Paul,” Tom muttered, “If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame the psychopathic bastard who put her in here…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul didn’t have a response for the man as he continued to stare at any feature of the room, until his eyes fell on a vase of lilies placed comfortingly on a coffee table in the middle of the room, adding some nice color to the  room. His eyes traced over the arrangement as he recognized some of the delicate flowers, mostly from the rants that Emma would have as they would walk through the supermarket, past the floral section. He recognized only a few of them, the softness of the petals in addition to the bright colors reminding him of Emma’s excited voice as she explained to them how much she loved them. Tiger lilies, he remembered, with bright orange petals and delicate freckling of dark red near the pistil, the faint dusting of golden pollen that would never be used tracing over the petals belonging to daisies and what he figured might have been baby’s breath, as well as a few other lilies that had been placed along with it (Madonna lilies, he was fairly sure). He smiled softly at the boldness of the orange plant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma never admitted to having a favorite flower, saying that she liked most of them pretty evenly, but she couldn’t deny the look of excitement when he’d brought her a bouquet of them as a surprise for their one year anniversary (she’d called him a sappy nerd, of course, concealing the joy on her face before it could be present for long, but he knew she secretly loved the gesture). With a bitter pang of sadness in his heart, he realized how long ago that had been...long before the world had come crashing down around them. At least they were still together, though…They’d survived so much and overcame so many obstacles and they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>in just as much love as they had been in before the world had collapsed….maybe even more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found it astonishing that the biology department had made it possible to grow whatever flower they could in hopes of restoring some semblance of an ecosystem with bees and produce. Emma had been so happy when she’d been brought onto the biology and botany department, seeing what they were doing to create some form of sustainable and consistent agriculture to raise food supply. While the project was starting off a little slowly, he’d known from what Emma had told him, that they were making great strides...and there those lilies were, sitting in front of him to add some pops of color into a room where the fear of death was strung about so clearly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom laughed under his breath as he followed Paul’s gaze to the flowers, “See those flowers?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul nodded, not really wanting to respond with a bitter, ‘obviously’, “Mmmhmmm...lilies…” he whispered, “Emma loves them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Jane didn’t,” Tom laughed slightly, his eyes filled with a kind of melancholy reflection in them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul looked up at him for an explanation, clearly seeing how the man was trying to make conversation to distract one of them, if not both, from the tension that they both had. Both of them so fearful of losing Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tom smiled, “Well...um...Jane never told me her favorite flower...even after our wedding I didn’t know...so it kinda became a joke between us that I’d never figure it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom chuckled slightly and went on, “Um...when we found out that we were having Tim, we made a bet. If I could figure out what her favorite flower was, I would get to name the baby, and if I couldn’t, she would,” he smiled slightly, “I would bring her flowers every other week, each one different from the last, trying to figure it out...and she loved it...I mean, she loved the flowers, until one day I brought her a bouquet of stargazer lilies…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul smiled as he could picture Emma in his mind, explaining to him what Stargazers looked like in comparison to other lilies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Big and white, with almost paint-like strokes of dark pink down the petals to the pistil. Looks like someone painted them, and then they’ve got freckles too! Dark ones, kinda like with tiger lilies… depending on the bloom they sometimes have more pink or less pink</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom chuckled to himself as he continued his story, “I was hiding them behind my back, trying to make it a surprise...and almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>instantly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Paul, she got all red and teary-eyed, her nose started running...some coughing and sneezing...the whole nine yards,” Tom laughed, “And I didn’t even need to show her the flowers for her to look up at me and say, ‘They’re lilies, aren't they?’. Hell of a way to find out your wife is allergic to something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul allowed himself to chuckle at the mental image. He vaguely remembered Emma mentioning that she’d never been allowed to have a lot of her favorite flowers as a kid around the house, because Jane was allergic to some of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma liked a lot of flowers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She liked poppies, with their bright red blooms and few petals. Cornflowers with their vibrancy despite being so small in stature.  Calla lilies, which were ‘weird-looking but strangely beautiful’ in her regard. Roses, which she liked, but never in a romantic context. Foxglove, irises, orchids, carnations, marigolds. All flowers whose names hadn’t meant anything to Paul until Emma had told him that they all meant something to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fascination with plant life, overall, was just something he loved about her. In some ways, now that plant life was appearing all over the base, he was reminded of her. But not like it had been when he’d thought she was dead, of course, now every time he saw something living and growing, he was reminded of the vibrance and life Emma gave to him. In every single growing thing, he was reminded of how incredible she was. She’d shown him how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not just exist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Even before they’d moved in together, he could see evidence of how much life she’d added to his dull and bare home, sometimes bringing in small potted plants, and a fern which she watered every single time she came over. When she moved in, he was certain the house that had once been his without feeling like a home, felt warm, bright and comfortable, turning into an actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>home, </span>
  </em>
  <span>something he thought he knew felt like until Emma proved him wrong. She’d made his house a place for them both to not just live, but laugh, cry, smile, and just share everything they had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was snapped out of his reverie by Becky’s soft voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head snapped up as his heart leapt in his chest again to meet the gaze of the redhead nurse. He could only imagine how pathetic his expression looked with as much worry as he was feeling, but honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. At the back of his mind, he could almost hear Emma’s voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Awww...You were worried about me? My big sappy nerd.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However sappy he was, he was most definitely worried, and he prayed that whatever Becky was about to tell him would allow him to at the very least have the relief of knowing that Emma was okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may see her now,” Becky smiled sadly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul felt dizzy as he rose from his seat. He felt like he’d been waiting for hours as he walked over in Becky’s direction, turning back to see Tom give him an encouraging, albeit tired, smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” Tom whispered, “I’ll stay out here just in case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded in thanks and began to follow Becky into the thin hallway that lead to the main ward.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they walked, he found himself almost walking ahead of Becky as he wanted to be by Emma’s side as soon as possible. He forced himself to slow down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is she?” he asked her, almost dreading the answer. He knew she was alive...but sometimes in hospitals, alive was the bare minimum. He knew this from his experiences with his mother as she neared her death.  As he’d gotten older, he realized every time he’d heard that she was still alive as a kid just before she passed should have been a reason for further heartbreak, not for relief. He was too young at the time to realize what it was that was making his mother suffer as much as she was, but when he finally learned the real meaning and the real pain behind ‘cancer’, ‘malignant’, ‘metastasized’, and ‘chemotherapy’ meant, he realized that his mother had </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>been in more pain than she let on. The thought was sickening, but it was something that he always kept in mind when someone was in the hospital. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed, “No seriously broken bones, just a few hairline fractures in her left radius and ulna, where we assume Ted had grabbed her...multiple contusions on her back...but nothing to put her in serious danger. A broken nose but no concussions from the look of her CT scans, but there’s a lot of bruising around her neck and head area, but thankfully, no crushed airways,” she sighed lightly as she continued to give her a crash course through Emma’s health, “We did notice some slight irregularities in her blood, so we’re still running a full preliminary blood workup to make sure he didn’t do something...y’know...awful to her organs...but right now we’re about ninety-five percent certain that she’s gonna be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the pessimism in his mind telling him that there was still an extra five percent in that estimation to worry about he allowed himself to breathe for the first time since he’d asked the question. As they came to the general ward, Becky walked to one of the rooms to the far side and looked up at him, before she opened the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “She’s still unconscious...but it’s good that you’ll be here when she wakes up,” Becky smiled softly, “We have her on some slight painkillers...nothing drastic, just some Tylenol for the arm and the soreness...but it’s likely she’s gonna be discombobulated when she wakes up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She started to slowly twist the door handle, before stopping and sighing, “It’s not gonna look pretty...but you need to remember that she’s still alive. That’s what matters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and a bitter twist at his heart reminded him of the last conversation he’d had with Becky. It had been something with much trepidation, yes, but with a much happier and joyful twist. It had been something of a comfort, not tense and fearful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He offered Becky a small smile, “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded, “I’ll come in with Dr. Kirk or McMurray when she’s awake and they’re ready, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and with that, Becky pulled open the door, allowing him entrance into the small room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes fell on her instantly, and his breath was instantly knocked from his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked so small on the hospital bed, which was the first thing he noticed, almost drowning in the oversized papery hospital gown. Almost instantly, he took notice of her neck, left exposed by the oversized fabric of the gown, which was mottled with dark red and purple bruises, places where Paul could only assume strong fingers had wrapped around her throat with the intention of constricting, killing. With an even greater sickening tug at his heart, he realized there were small but visible scratch marks around the bruises, which meant that in her struggle to fight against Ted, she’d scratched at herself trying to pull his fingers off of her. Her prosthetic was missing, but he could see from the small swelling in her leg that she’d definitely be in need of the pain meds that would help her get through the day when her leg was being exceptionally difficult. Her left arm was in a splint of some kind, but even through the material that kept her forearm straight with her wrist, he could make out more ugly bruises which also mirrored the pattern that malevolent fingers had left behind. Her nose also had a splint of sorts covering the bridge where he could see more bruises, slight swelling, and dried blood was ever so visible around her nostrils. Her top lip had a small split to the side, and he took note of two large bandages, one on her forehead, and the other around her jaw, which could only presumably be covering gashes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbled into the chair, hating how normal the finding of the other in a hospital bed was becoming for them, and gently took her good hand in his own, where he saw an IV port taped to her hand, but wasn’t attached to anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gently ran his fingers over her knuckles as a bulge of anger and anxiety built up in his throat. The longer he stared at the bruises and gashes on her face, an unfamiliar kind of rage filled him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ted did this to her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He knew that Ted wasn’t himself after what had happened, but it didn’t change the fact that he had been the one to do this. He’d attacked her unprovoked, and wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>to kill her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Had it not been for Hidgens...Paul didn’t even want to think of what might have happened, though, he knew he’d probably be viewing her body rather than seeing her alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silent tears dripped down his face as he kissed her hand gently, silently resolving to remain with her, remaining vigilant should anyone try to come back and finish the job Ted began. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d only been there for twenty minutes, when her eyes started to move beneath her eyelids, before they snapped open, making him jump. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lurched upward with a desperate gasp, making him  spring into action as a terrified cry left her, sounding raspy and desperate, like she was already prepared to fight Ted off after what he’d done. She thrashed with her eyes squeezed shut, almost as if she was too scared to look and see whoever it was that was holding her hand and wanted to shake them off as much as she could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma!” he tried to soothe her as he gently caught her shoulders in his hands, trying to keep her from harming herself further. He moved from the chair to sit on the edge of her bed, “Em, sweetheart, it's me! It’s me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes widened as they finally settled on him, her thrashing falling into a stop and her raspy breaths slowing as her lower lip trembled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“P-Paul?” she whispered, her eyes filling with terrified tears as she weakly sank back into the pillows of the bed, her sore body obviously causing her a great deal of pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, gently reaching up to cup her face gently “Yeah...it’s me...you’re okay, Em...I’m here...you’re okay…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tears filled her eyes as she suddenly lurched up with a small cry of fear, burying her face into his neck as he held her close. His heart broke as he felt her stifling her sobs into his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh…” he cradled her gently to him, “I’m here...you’re okay…I’ve got you...you’re okay...you’re okay...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“P-Paul…” she whispered, “I didn’t...I- Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>God…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt warm tears pouring down his face as he held her closer, trying not to cause her any more pain as he kept his touch light and gentle, but as he continued to whisper  assurances to her, he felt some small sense of relief tugging at his heart. In some ways, repeating the words ‘you’re okay’ to her also translated into his mind  as ‘she’s okay’. The fact that he was holding her and that he could still hear her very fast heartbeat was making some of the stress and tension melt away as he hugged her slightly tighter, bringing one hand up to gently cradle the back of her head, trying not to cause her any pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as he let her cry and get all of the stress and panic out, feeling the both of them shake as they held onto one another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re okay...I’ve got you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” she whispered tiredly into his chest as he readjusted their position so he could gently hold her, providing some comfort that she knew she was in desperate need of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head was throbbing, as well as her nose, and leg…and really...just the rest of her body was in some form of pain at varying degrees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul chuckled humorlessly and pressed another kiss to her head. Other than reassuring her that she was okay several times in the near-twenty minutes since she woke up, he’d not said much, looking caught in a daze as he held her gently. Somehow, in spite of all the pain she was in, the fact that he was there provided her with a softness and a warmth that she didn’t know she needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” he whispered, his voice cracking as he swallowed hard“Y-ou...um...you were attacked…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shuddered suddenly as the memory of Ted’s vicious face, his eyes glowing yellow and blue as they sneered at her bleeding weak frame popped into her mind, “N-No...I meant..um…” she bit her lip, wincing as she felt the split part of her lip ache, “I meant after…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed shakily and nodded, “Yeah...um...sorry..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No…” she whispered, glancing back up at him, “No, it’s fine…just...tell me what happened..after...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words failed as she saw Paul wince. He had to know what had happened, otherwise he wouldn’t have been holding her like this. Like he’d do anything to protect her. In some ways the sentence finished itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could only remember the pain, a gunshot, and voices. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, there’d been nothing until she’d woken up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um...” Paul whispered, his voice sounding very small and very heavy, “Hidgens...he found you and shot Ted before he could…” he swallowed hard, his voice breaking, “Before- be...before he could…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say it,” she whispered, nestling in closer to him as she felt him shake with slight sobs he was desperately trying to conceal from her, feeling her own raw eyes well up with tears again, “And you know you can cry…with me… right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and kissed her head again, “I was so fucking scared, Emma…” his voice was a hoarse whisper as small sobs left him as he buried his face in her neck, “They told me...what happened and I didn’t know what to- I can’t...</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” she whispered, turning over gently despite the slight aching in her upper chest, “None of this is your fault...okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul didn’t look like he believed her as she stared up into his blue, red-rimmed eyes. She could see so much guilt he would likely take the weight of for as long as he could, “But if I had just...if I had been...been listening-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No…” she whispered cupping his face and gently wiping at his tears with the thumb of her good hand, “No, Paul...this wasn’t your fault, okay? This wasn’t anything you could control...this is T-Ted…” she stumbled on the name as it invoked that same image that she’d been so sure would be the last thing she would ever see, “This was his fault...and the fault of the bastards who played with his mind...okay? You cannot blame yourself for this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But-” he stammered, more tears slipping from his eyes as he closed them, “I should have at the very least…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul,” she spoke as gently as she could, “I love you...but you need to cut that shit from your brain before it kills you…” she cupped his face and looked him dead in the eyes, “What happened is nothing that you could control, okay? What matters is that I’m alive...okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She winced at a small wave of nausea that built up in her stomach before fading quickly, thereby sending the soreness of her other bruises and sore bones into their own waves of slight pain. She glanced backup at him, “Okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took in a shaky breath and nodded slowly, “Okay…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she smiled softly at him, despite the soreness in her face, “I love you...you know that, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shuddering sob left him, “Of course I do...and I love you too, Emma...so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They settled back into a small silence, listening to the ambient noises of the infirmary just outside the doors, both of their minds still on what had happened, but the presence of the other providing some comfort to ward Ted from their minds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced up at Paul, who was staring at the door as if he was waiting for something to jump out at them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What are you thinking about?” she whispered, lifting her good hand above her shoulder to run softly through his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I’m- um…” he muttered, clearly not wanting to provide her with an answer that he might have thought would upset her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it him?” she questioned hastily, still not wanting to say the name. Even just saying ‘him’ with the full knowledge that they both knew who she was talking about made her shudder and her hair stand on edge. She couldn’t get the pure glee in his eyes from hearing her scream out of her head. She’d been so sure that she would die. She curled in closer to Paul as he managed a small, shaky nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lets not think about him, then,” she said hastily. She knew that this would eat them both up inside until they actually figured what had driven him to...to do what he’d done, “Let’s just...have this moment...okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed under his breath, taking in another shaky breath, “I promise, Em…” he whispered into her hair, “I swear on my life...I won’t let anyone hurt you again…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul,” she sighed, “We’re living in the end of the world...people get hurt regardless of what you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a bitter and ugly truth. But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>the truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While it was one that she hated to drop on him...especially at a time like this...but it had to be said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered, “I’m not letting it happen…I’d rather go back in the Black and White than you get put in harm's way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her breath stuttered in her chest at the memory of him being pulled away from her into a domain of the cold and dark. Though she wished against it with every fiber of her being, she knew he was completely serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Either way I’d get hurt,” she whispered, “You said you’re not gonna let me get hurt? Well, I’m not letting you get hurt either, Paul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She fought against the images of all the people she loved that had gotten hurt that burgeoned in her mind. She couldn’t lose him. Not him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said nothing, instead swallowing hard as he tried to conceal another bout of sobs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul,” she whispered, “We are living in the end times, okay? Life is fucked...but we’re together, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes and looked at her, almost as if he was a child who’d just been told there were no monsters in his closet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We protect each other, okay?” she whispered, keeping her raspy tone as serious as she could, despite the strain it put on her vocal cords,  “Forever and always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tears welled up in his eyes as he managed a small nod, “Forever and always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more minutes passed and the door to her room opened, making Paul jump and jostle her, allowing another wave of soreness to shoot through her.  Paul immediately repositioned himself, apologizing profusely under his breath as if the mere idea that he’d given her pain made him feel sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He transferred himself off the bed, but still held her hand gently in his as they looked up and saw Becky and Dr. Phillipa Kirk entering, both of them wearing business-like expressions as they regarded her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kirk smiled warmly at the two of them, her hazel eyes peeking out from tortoise-rimmed glasses, her black bouncy curls pulled into a neat ponytail out of her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Good, you’re awake, Miss Perkins,” Dr. Kirk smiled, “How are you feeling?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma let out a non committal groan, “Honestly, Phillipa, I feel like shit..” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kirk smirked, “Now I can see why you’re one of Kam’s favorite patients…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Emma rasped, “You and your wife have similar bedside manners, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we’ve been told,” Dr. Kirk smiled, before her eyes fell on Paul, “You doing okay, Mr. Matthews?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma glanced over to where Paul was seated, almost as if he was waiting for something. What exactly he was waiting for- which she figured could have been good news or bad news- though, was something he was uncertain of.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, “Yes...I’m fine…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Dr. Kirk nodded, “Well, you’ll be glad to know that Emma can go home as soon as we finish with what business I’ve got for you two today, which should take not much time...but are of utter importance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Utter importance?” Emma raised an eyebrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It basically means we’re just gonna run you through what happened, and how you can take care of yourself until you get to be one hundred percent,” Becky smiled softly, “Since you scared the shit out of us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma managed a small dramatic gasp, “Did my ears deceive me, or did Becky Barnes just curse?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did it to make Paul, who looked unbelievably tense, laugh...which she was successful in doing as he allowed a few small tired chuckles to leave him as he sat there, her hand still gently held in his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better believe it,” Becky smiled tiredly, but behind her eyes Emma could see some form of melancholy worry,  “But we really do mean it, Emma, when we say it could have been a lot worse…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma felt her face fall as she glanced down at her aching body which was pleading with her not to move. Ted’s face flashed in her mind again and she winced, tightening her grip on Paul’s hand,  “Yeah...you don’t need to tell me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Dr. Kirk began, her voice falling from the friendly welcoming nature into the professionalism that she and her wife were both known for, “What matters is that Mr. Spankoffski has been moved to the lower, more secure levels and is under guard, and you are alive...that’s what matters, and it is my job to keep you that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced down at her clipboard, “Now, Emma first and foremost, since you’re now conscious, I have to ask you if you remember what happened to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” Emma swallowed hard, her grip on Paul’s hand tightening considerably as she considered the question, “Y-Yes...yes, I remember...I was…I was attacked...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kirk’s gaze softened, “You don’t need to provide a description if you don’t want to, Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma exhaled sharply and looked down before she received a small squeeze at her hand from Paul, she looked up and met his eyes and was almost instantly comforted by the softness in his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Emma,” Dr. Kirk said officially, standing up straight, “I’m about to run you through what we’ve done with you since you arrived here in the infirmary, just so you know...since you were unconscious, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She managed a small nod, feeling somewhat exhausted and wanting nothing more than to just go home with Paul and sleep for the next century, “Hit me with it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, thankfully someone intervened before the damage done to you could get seriously harmful,” Dr. Kirk said shaking her head, “When you arrived, we immediately examined youfor symptoms of concussion and brain damage as a result of the blunt force trauma that you received to your head, and potential damage to your spine as well. We took several blood samples to run to the lab to do a full workup, which we will be getting to in a moment. We ran a CT scan to see if there was any brain damage, and thankfully,  no head trauma was observed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma allowed herself to breathe a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No head trauma. That was good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We held off from performing any X-rays, due to reasons involving your blood workup,” Dr. Kirk explained, “But we did perform an MRI, which allowed us to confirm that no internal contusions or bleeding was found, and all of the bruising was mostly external and will take about two to four weeks to heal completely, given how much bruising was done to your back. Considering, however, that you appear to be moving around fine, and the MRI didn’t pick up any bone contusions around your spine or other areas we should be concerned with, you shouldn’t have to worry much about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma nodded, “So...in simple terms, I was just...bruised </span>
  <em>
    <span>really bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For the most part, thank goodness,” Dr. Kirk nodded, noticing how Paul seemed to relax slightly,  “You got very lucky. Of course the broken nose and arm will take a while to heal, I would say about six to eight weeks to heal. I would recommend resting for the next two to three days, just to let your body take the time to relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma wanted to remark that relaxation was a finite resource in time such as these, but she knew in the back of her mind that Paul wouldn’t let her do anything but relax for the next couple of days if he knew it was gonna help her heal, so she made a mental note to resign herself to “relaxing”. It was just a few bruises...even if she had been terrified out</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So...” Paul began tentatively for a moment, as if trying to allow himself to relax at the idea that she was okay, “Just bad bruising? Nothing some rest can’t fix?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...not just bruising,” Kirk sighed, “But I do believe that the rest will definitely have some significance in the next part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor sighed for a moment before flipping a few sheets of paper back on her clipboard, “Now onto the more complicated stuff...the blood panel-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the way she said ‘blood panel’ made Emma’s throat suddenly run dry. It was almost as if Kirk was preparing to give them bad news. A tone of voice that made Emma grip Paul’s hand tighter as she felt her heart pick up the pace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blood panel?” Paul questioned looking up at Becky who merely nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We wanted to run full diagnostics on her blood just to ensure there was no Black and White interference,” Dr. Kirk explained calmly. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>Emma felt Paul tighten his grip on her hand as he leaned closer to her, “And did you? Find anything unusual?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…no,” Dr. Kirk started, sounding unsure in a way that didn’t calm Emma’s nerves, “But I do have a question for you, Emma. When was your last cycle?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma felt taken aback by the question, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the doctor in puzzlement. What did that have to do with anything? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” she stammered, glancing from Paul who looked equally confused to Dr. Kirk who was wearing a blank face that made Emma want to scream, “I’m not sure...I’m fairly sure we were still in the caves, though...why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you see…” Dr. Kirk began, “We found some abnormalities in your blood...in the first few tests just to check for regular stuff that might impede our treatment of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Abnormalities?” Paul’s voice wavered, “What kind of abnormalities?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not the abnormalities of the Black and White, Paul,” Becky said quickly, from the corner in which she was standing, flashing a comforting smile at him, which also put the small part of Emma that was uneasy to some form of rest, “Abnormalities that are honestly normal for most women, but worth checking out all the same…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” Emma began nervously, “Bad abnormality...or a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> abnormality…?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kirk shrugged, “Depends on how you look at it. My point is, we got a very </span>
  <em>
    <span>particular </span>
  </em>
  <span>result from a test that we think should interest you, and it most definitely plays into both of your lives from here on out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma had never been more confused in her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weren’t doctors just supposed to give you the news straight to your face and not beat around the bush about whether or not you were dying?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky swallowed hard and turned to Dr. Kirk, “Phillipa...please just tell them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Dr. Kirk nodded, before delivering words to Emma that she never thought she’d hear in her life, “Sorry...giving this kind of news has never been my speed.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss Perkins, you’re expecting.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At first, Emma didn’t understand what she’d just been told, the words flying in one ear and pouring out the other.  That was, until they pulled a boomerang-like stunt and went flying straight into the center of her brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Expecting. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Expecting. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Like...</span>
  </em>
  <span>expecting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>expecting. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Like...in a maternal sense…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d just been told...that she was going to be a mother. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A mother.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma Perkins. A mother.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul, on the other hand, clearly hadn’t gotten the meaning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Expecting?” he echoed, sounding extremely lost, “Expecting...what exactly?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma was too deep in shock to laugh at how earnest his cluelessness was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky smiled slightly,  shaking her head softly, “Paul, what we’re saying is Emma’s pregnant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was another word that suddenly shook her to her core, confirming the fact that she wasn't ‘expecting’ her untimely death, or ‘expecting’ a package. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pregnant. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meaning...there was a human being...inside of her...right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of the periphery of her vision she could see Paul stiffen, his hand suddenly growing clammy in hers. She had to stifle a small smile at the look that crossed his face, his blue eyes blown so wide in an unreadable emotion that covered him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she parroted, looking down at the blankets as the reality of the news suddenly began to sink in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” he whispered again, not really giving any indication of how he was feeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” she whispered, looking up to see him, suddenly meeting his eyes as he repeated ‘okay’ under his breath again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes met hers and suddenly she felt as if her heart could melt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Those. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The same glorious blue that she had seen on the baby in the dream. She was reminded of how normal it had felt to hold that baby’s weight in her arms. How much she’d wanted to hold it and soothe its desperate cries.  While she’d ever known </span>
  <em>
    <span>whose </span>
  </em>
  <span>baby it was...she never expected it to be her own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Their </span>
  </em>
  <span>own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>She stared at Paul for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction before she saw tears filling his eyes and a small disbelieving grin spread across his face,  that suddenly made her forget about the soreness and stiffness of her muscles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?” she whispered, unable to keep the disbelieving chuckle that left her at bay as she stared into his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes that a baby...</span>
  <em>
    <span>their baby (holy shit)</span>
  </em>
  <span>...might have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed, tears filling her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as he sat on the edge of the bed again and hugged her gently and tenderly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit, Paul…” she whispered tearfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, tears falling from his own eyes as he cupped her face and kissed her forehead gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d never been sure if she wanted kids. As a child, she’d never seen the appeal of parenthood, since her parents always looked so miserable. Besides...the idea of just  </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushing </span>
  </em>
  <span>a</span>
  <em>
    <span> human being </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of you just grossed her out. That was a philosophy that she’d carried with her through her adolescence and her early adulthood. Hell, she’d even been on the fence about having kids when she’d started seeing Paul. But now...</span>
  <em>
    <span>holy hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wanted to have a kid with him. There was no one else she’d ever encountered in her life that she’d rather take this leap with. There was nobody else she’d want to call the father of her children. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Their children.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” he whispered, one of his hands gently falling to her stomach as he looked at her with so much awe, before a look of anxiety crossed his face, “You’re sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kirk smiled warmly, “I’ve been a Doctor for almost ten years, Matthews. I’m pretty damn sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he whispered,  his voice suddenly growing frantic, “And it’s okay, from what you could tell? It’s not harmed from what happened?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that question Emma felt anxiety unlike anything she’d ever known before tear through her as she was suddenly reminded of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly she was in the infirmary to begin with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Kirk nodded, “ There was no irregular bleeding or pain that Emma exhibited that would indicate a miscarriage, but because of what happened, I’m going to recommend that she has checkups every two weeks to make sure the little one isn’t at any risk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Little one. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>little one. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Better yet...</span>
  <em>
    <span>theirs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were gonna be parents.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea filled her with giddiness and anxiety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma nodded, “I’ll do whatever is needed...whatever I can do…I’ll do anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul wrapped his arms gently around her and looked up at the Doctor, clearly sharing in her determination, “We both will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky smiled from ear to ear as she glanced at Dr. Kirk, who smiled warmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, then, I’m gonna grab some material we’ll need to plan your next couple of visits and we’ll take it one step at a time,” she smiled and walked to the door, “And may I just say...congratulations to you both.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that the doctor was gone, Becky following her out before casting an excited beaming smile over her shoulder, closing the door softly behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma glanced up at Paul, one of her hands joining his softly around her stomach, a smile unlike anything she’d ever presented to anyone  on her face, forgetting about the circumstances under which she’d been brought to the infirmary. Forgetting about the bruises that marred her back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she smiled up at Paul, she could see in his eyes that they were both immediately deciding silently to protect one another </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>their child (</span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit...they were having a baby)</span>
  </em>
  <span> from anything in the world that sought to harm them. Despite all of the joy and excitement that consumed them in that moment, they knew that they still lived in a world filled with powerful beings that wanted them dead...but they would do anything to protect one another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would give everything she had to make sure her family was safe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d protect this child with everything they had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With another tug of something that wasn't quite anxiety, she realized that they were bringing new life into an unforgiving and harsh world. A word where they'd both been met by forces that sought out to destroy them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swore on her life that her child would be safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn't care what it was that they had to sacrifice, and she knew he shared the sentiment from the protective way he was suddenly holding her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They understood this as they gazed into one another’s eyes. Too filled with a strange form of solemn awe to speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking fast, she craned herself up to meet his lips softly, her hands both injured and not gently threading in his hair as he happily reciprocated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they broke apart, his hand still on her stomach, he whispered, “Forever and always, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed as more happy tears streamed from her eyes, squeezing his hand over her stomach as she did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forever and always.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...that happened.<br/>(Kudos to the some of you who Saw this coming!!!)</p>
<p>But yeah...Ted’s mind is in the blender.</p>
<p>Paul and Tom bonding is very important.</p>
<p>And...yeah...Paulkins baby.</p>
<p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like! I’d love to hear what you think!!!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!! I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read this long chapter! I hope you have an incredible day!!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. You've Seen the Worst in Me Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John and Xander contemplate the events of the day before.</p><p>Tom questions Ted.</p><p>Paul worries.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title from this one comes from the song ’Dreamer’ by Uh-Huh-Her</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: mentions of attempted murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: January 30th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. </p><p>It had been an extremely long day for him. </p><p>He’d unfortunately had to review the footage taken from Emma’s lab several times to see if he could defer any clues, and every single time he was met by the same thing over and over again. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>Just Emma screaming and getting the shit beaten out of her. </p><p>The sight wasn’t pretty to him. </p><p>Still, he’d watched it. </p><p>It hurt to watch his friend suffer at the hands of a man who was very obviously at the mercy of some force they couldn’t understand. Her screams would be something he’d hear inside his head for as long as possible. Normally, reviewing disturbing footage like this would have done nothing to throw him off, but something about this...it was unlike anything he’d ever seen. </p><p>John had seen some fairly disturbing stuff in his day. Missions in and out of his office that he was required to review often left him contemplating his faith in humanity. Sometimes he’d seen humans act in a way that was so disturbing that he knew it could only be something the Black and White could conjure. The reset in which he and Ethan had both died for example, people driven to madness over a desire to fix the broken parts of their lives. Parts that couldn't be fixed by any material thing...but what did they care? Why do the work when something was packaged and placed right in front of them?</p><p>The most disturbing thing about watching what had happened to Emma had been the fact that they’d been unable to detect any energies of the Black and White surrounding Ted Spankoffski or Emma at all. Not even the slightest indicator that the Black and White had some sort of pull at him...or was forcing him to do the things that he was doing. No...if he was watching this correctly, the desperation and fear was all rooted from Spankoffski and Spankoffski alone.</p><p>Even Rodney’s software, which should have <em> at the very least </em> picked up on something unusual had come up with no leads. </p><p>Ted was damaged, he knew. You’d have to be blind if you couldn’t see that...but there was purpose behind what he was doing to Emma in the footage. Desperation rooted in something that didn’t quite make sense...and yet, he knew it had to be something beyond delusion.</p><p>Another part of him just felt guilty. </p><p>Emma wasn’t a soldier. Neither was Paul.</p><p>They were both civilians who were doing their best to make a difference in a time where it was likely their existence would be snuffed out before they could do anything worthwhile. They’d accepted his command, and had even become his friends following him to do something that they both knew the risks of. Even after nearly losing one another so many times, they treated what was happening in the world as <em> their </em>fight. A fight to make their world a place they could live in...not just survive. In spite of these risks, and how keen the forces of the Black and White seemed to be on killing them, it was John’s responsibility to lead them in a direction that would keep them safe. He should have taken the precautions that would prevent Emma from getting targeted and attacked in the manner that she was. Thank God that she was alive, of course, but had he been paying attention, we wouldn’t have had to worry about possibly finding Emma brutally strangled to death in her own lab.  </p><p>He sighed and shut his laptop as Xander moved over to sit beside him, placing a glass of their nice whiskey beside him. </p><p>He glanced up at his husband, who was already sipping away at his own drink, looking like he could read John’s every thought.</p><p>“You’re making that face,” John murmured as he picked up the glass, sipping from it before glancing back up at Xander. </p><p>“What face?” Xander asked, looking slightly affronted as John let a tired chuckle slip. </p><p>John took another sip of his drink, “The ‘John, you’re obviously frustrated with something, so I’m gonna sit here and look hot until I figure out what it is’ face.” </p><p>“You think I look hot?” Xander smiled teasingly. </p><p>“It’s why I married you,” John retorted with a small grin. </p><p>“Really? I thought it was because you needed some brains in the operation,” Xander smiled before taking another sip of his drink, “But seriously, John...what’s bugging you?”</p><p>John muttered under his breath before looking up, “The footage from Emma’s lab?”</p><p>Xander cursed under his breath, having watched it as well, “How many times did you end up watching it?”</p><p>“As of right now?” John raised an eyebrow, “Fifteen times.”</p><p>For a moment Xander just stared at John with the look of ‘why would you do something like that, idiot’ as if he could tell that John was beating himself internally over what Emma had been through. They’d received reports from Dr. Kirk, however, that Emma was going to be fine, that her arm had sustained a few hairline fractures and was okay to go home, and she and Paul had a few things they needed to discuss with them, but she was okay. She was still alive. That didn’t change the fact that a man who’d proven himself to be dangerous had tried to kill her, and from the audio that had been caught on the tape, he planned on making Paul his second victim as soon as he’d finished Emma off.   </p><p>“I still don’t understand it completely…” John shook his head, “I mean, he was going to <em> kill her, </em>Xander. Previous encounters between the two of them indicated only mild annoyance...not this sort of hostility.” </p><p>“I don’t think I’d even consider it hostility, John,” Xander murmured, taking a sip of his drink as he shook his head, “That man was downright murderous.”</p><p>“Exactly,” John nodded, “But the fact remains that he still wanted to kill her…”</p><p>“You forget,” Xander said, finishing off his glass, “We do have a ‘why’ in this situation.”</p><p>Ah yes. The ‘why’ that made no damn sense. </p><p>“<em> I won’t let you kill me again, bitch.” </em></p><p>A man who was alive...was claiming that he’d been killed by Emma. Of course, he’d heard stranger things in his life. Like the fact that he was bound to the man who was sitting beside him </p><p>“I’m not sure I’ll take a very much alive man saying that Emma murdered him as a valid motive, Xander,” John sighed, “But if the Black and White had any part in this, we’d be able to view it with Rodney’s software, right? Like you did with the traffic footage before you were able to get us all back?”</p><p>Xander nodded the wheels and cogs in his head clearly twisting and turning as he considered this, “Yeah...it should have...but it didn’t.”</p><p>“And if the Black and White had anything to do with Ted’s...state,” John asked, verbally processing all of the information that had been thrown in his face before he knew what to do with it, “...then we would have seen something, right?” </p><p>Xander nodded, “We still haven’t looked at the scans that Abadi wanted us to see, right? That could help us out and figure if the Black and White fucked with his mind.” </p><p>John nodded, “I suppose…” he bout on his lower lip, “I just want to understand what could have happened that made a perfectly sane- albeit, an asshole, but still perfectly sane- man go from being somewhat of an annoyance towards two people, to all of the sudden intending to murder them.”</p><p>He could tell from the look in Xander’s eyes that he understood his thinking. He always did. </p><p>Xander sighed, “I don’t think he was <em> just </em>murderous, John.”</p><p>John tilted his head, “What do you mean?” </p><p>Xander furrowed his eyebrows, “The man was desperate...afraid. Like he’d truly seen Emma kill him and was trying to prevent it from happening.” </p><p> “Xander, Emma wouldn’t-” He was cut off before he could finish her sentence. </p><p>“I never suggested anything of the sort,” Xander sighed, “You and I both know that no matter how much Emma dislikes Ted, she wouldn’t murder him. But...who knows what happened to that man’s mind when he was dragged into the portal room? Nurse Chapel was getting blood from him yesterday and heard him mutter under his breath that Emma wasn’t Emma...I mean, we haven’t found the box that Hannah said he had. For all we know, he could have seen things that weren’t there...like the forest Emma was talking about.”</p><p>
  <em> Nightmare Time.  </em>
</p><p>The elusive concept of a forest in which people were shown some iteration of their deepest fears was indeed something that both terrified and compelled John. Of course, Hannah, Hidgens, Emma, and even Paul, who had allegedly been in the forest twice before, hadn’t been able to provide much insight into what it was...or what would happen to a person who’d be placed there. All that he knew was that several operatives after an encounter with Webby had been driven to cardiac arrest within moments of supposedly entering the metaphysical forest of the mind, that ensnared and killed in ways that he didn’t understand. </p><p>It had often been a subject of his late-night contemplation (which normally ended with Xander telling him he was an idiot who needed sleep), when it came to considering their circumstances. Since coming back, sleeping in his own bed had been something of an oddity, since he’d grown so used to sleeping on a ratty mattress that was caked with dust and probably hadn’t been used since the fifties. While sleeping was definitely far more comfortable now, he knew that getting used to it again would take time. Oftentimes he found his mind wandering to the information Hannah, Emma, and Hidgens had given them, wandering down the trails of where this forest would take him should he ever have the misfortune to enter it. He’d not gotten the chance to ask Hannah any more about what Nightmare Time was, and the part of him that didn’t trust Hidgens for fear of falling into Webby’s game again didn’t want to hear what the old man had to offer on the matter.</p><p>Still...if Xander was insinuating what John thought he was... </p><p>“You think Ted’s in Nightmare Time?” John asked. </p><p>“Something like that,” Xander nodded, “Or was...or was partially in it...either way, I’m fairly certain that whatever the box did to him, Nightmare Time is a part of it.”</p><p>John opened his mouth to speak before a small knock sounded at the door, promptly silencing him. </p><p>Xander stood, “That’ll be Paul and Emma...I’ll let them in.” </p><p>John sighed and gently placed his laptop back in it’s sleeve, realizing that the last thing that they probably wanted right now was to hear about Ted or what had happened the day before. </p><p>It was strange that Emma had requested a meeting with them away from the offices, due to some things that had come up at some point during the previous day. Whatever it was that Emma and Paul intended to share, however, John was keen on hearing it, since they were pretty much low on actual leads and not really wanting to put any stress of weight on Hannah’s shoulders by asking too much of her. She was a kid, after all. Yes, a kid with extraordinary  powers and amazing capabilities...but she didn’t deserve to get drawn into Webby’s war because of it. </p><p>He looked up and smiled as Xander led Paul and Emma into the living room, fighting against the pang of regret as soon as he saw Emma in her wheelchair, horrible dark bruises mottling her neck and some on her face.  She was wheeling herself into the living room, despite the small look of protest on Paul’s face, like he knew she was capable of doing it herself, but had several reasons to want to do it for her, and smiled tiredly at him as he stood. </p><p>“Glad to see you’re on the mend, Emma,” John greeted, nodding solemnly at her. </p><p>She smiled as Paul stood beside her, almost protectively. Of course, after what had happened yesterday, it made sense that Paul wouldn’t want to let her out of his sight</p><p>“Thanks for seeing us,” she smiled, “I know it was kinda last second.” </p><p>“It’s no problem at all,” Xander smiled as he poured himself another glass of whiskey, “Can I get either of you a drink?”</p><p>“No thanks,” Emma chuckled, looking down. </p><p>“None for me, either,” Paul smiled, sitting down almost rigidly, nervously, like he felt uncomfortable, but knew that John would probably tell him to sit down anyway. </p><p>Xander shrugged and sat down beside John on the couch, “So...how’re you feeling, Emma?” </p><p>Emma let out a slightly dry laugh, “Honestly? Sore as hell and the leg’s being a bitch...but I’ll live.” </p><p>Paul nodded, “Dr. Kirk advised her to keep off of her feet for the next few days, just to let herself heal-”</p><p>Emma groaned with a small laugh of fake annoyance, “Babe, that’s the sixth time you’ve brought it up today.”</p><p>Paul smiled semi-apologetically, “Just making sure you remember.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes, “As if I can forget with you reminding me every five seconds.”</p><p>An affectionate look was shared between them, despite Emma’s clear slight annoyance at Paul’s hovering, and John looked at Xander, the both of them feeling extremely confused.</p><p> What was going on?</p><p>“So…” John began, “What can we do for you guys?” </p><p>Emma’s eyes widened as she was snapped out of her trance, clearly at a loss for words “Well...um...yesterday, while we were still in the infirmary...um…” she bit on her lower lip and turned to Paul, “Paul, why don’t you tell him?”</p><p>“Me?” the man looked like he’d just been threatened with a knife, “Why me?” </p><p>“Well…” Emma began, stammering on her words in a very un-Emma-like fashion, “This <em> is </em>your fault.”</p><p>“Fault?” Paul looked confused, “How is this a fault? I mean, <em> my </em>fault, yes...but a fault? ”</p><p>“Okay...not a fault,” Emma began, her voice going low as if she was slightly panicking on something, “But you <em> are </em>the one responsible for knocking me up, so you should-”</p><p>“Well, you’re the one who’s got…” Paul’s eyes darted around nervously before he leaned in and gestured to Emma weirdly, “You’re the one who’s got...<em> got the thing </em>…” </p><p>“The thing?” Emma raised her eyebrow with an expression of mock annoyance.</p><p>“You know what I mean,” Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I mean-”</p><p>John didn’t process the words exchanged between them as the couple continued their minor argument until Xander spoke, cutting the two of them off before their banter- which was honestly, hilarious to John- could continue.</p><p>“<em> No fucking way. </em>”</p><p> The couple froze and Emma cursed under her breath. </p><p>John turned to Xander and saw a big disbelieving grin spreading across his face. </p><p>Emma chuckled lightly under her breath and turned to Paul, who’d suddenly flushed a bright shade of red, “Well...I suppose that’s one way to let the cat out of the bag, huh?” </p><p>John was very confused and turned to Xander, who looked like he was shaking in his seat with excitement that he wasn’t sure he’d seen in Xander since they’d been told they’d get new equipment for the labs.</p><p>“What cat?” He whispered, “What am I missing?” </p><p>Xander ignored him and kept his gaze fixated on the two, who were blushing furiously, “You’re serious? You’re not fucking with me right now?” </p><p>Paul smiled and closed his eyes, looking like the nervousness that had consumed him earlier had melted away. Almost as if he’d been consumed by pure happiness alone. </p><p>Emma laughed, “You better believe it, boss. Is it too early to be negotiating maternity leave length?”</p><p>Now John was even more confused. </p><p>Maternity lea-</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p>He felt a small smile spread over his face as he suddenly understood the meaning, “Oh my God…”</p><p>He glanced from Paul to Emma, who nodded with a small smile on her face. </p><p>He turned to Xander, “We’re gonna have a mini Paul and Emma hybrid running around?”</p><p>“I mean,” xander smiled, clearly excited by the news, “It’s called a baby...and there’s gonna be a long time before it’s running about but…” he turned to Emma and Paul again, “Holy shit you guys….”</p><p>Paul nodded sheepishly, “Yeah…It’s...it’s incredible….” his face fell slightly, “But that’s not all we’ve essentially come here to talk to you about.”</p><p>Emma looked from Paul to the ground, her eyes suddenly looking far more serious. Suddenly, John was reminded of the fact that they currently had a madman in their custody who was still hellbent on killing the two of them. Had it not been for the bindings and cuffs that they’d put on the bed that they’d kept him in, he was fairly certain that Ted would soon attempt to pull another disappearing act. Because of this, John decided to keep the man on twenty-four-hour guard, and had the guards and medical personnel take note of anything he might have said in his drug-induced delusion. So far the reports had mentioned that the man had only muttered a few words, including but not limited to, kill, Emma, Paul, robot, box, bastard, Jenny (whoever that was), murder, help, and dead. While the words had never been mentioned in coherent sentences, the word ‘kill’ was often followed up with mentions of Paul and Emma’s names and in a less than friendly way.</p><p>He felt his face drop as he looked at Emma, “It’s okay...right? After what happened?” </p><p>Emma nodded, one of her hands subconsciously coming up to trace some of the bruises on her neck, “We got lucky...and we’d like it to stay that way.”</p><p>Paul put his hand gently on Emma’s knee, “Phillipa told us that the fact that we were even able to conceive...well, it should have been impossible, especially with as much damage as Emma’s body had sustained...I mean, the fact that the baby’s still alive after…” he trailed off as if the thought of what Ted had done made him sick. John couldn’t blame him as he continued, his voice somewhat shaky, “We don’t want to take any chances.”</p><p>Xander nodded, “What can we do to give you guys your best chance?” </p><p>Emma looked down, “We hadn’t really thought of that...we were hoping you could offer us your advice…”</p><p>“We haven’t told anyone yet,” Paul added, “Becky was in the room when we found out with Phillipa, but we’re telling you guys because you’re our bosses...and we trust you…” </p><p>John felt something awful twist at his heart as he studied the couple before them. </p><p>They were terrified for the safety of their child. </p><p>He knew that the world they’d be bringing this baby into was not a kind. A bitter truth that ate away at him was the fact that it was unlikely this child would see the sky if they didn’t find a way to at the very least neutralize Webby’s threat (which was a very big ‘If’). It hurt John to know that there were already children being born on their base that may never see the sun in their lifetimes, who would have to grow up knowing the in’s and out’s of PEIP as the basis for their civilization. Paul and Emma deserved a better world to raise their child in. Any parent did. </p><p>What was even more concerning now, was the fact that there were still people who were so hellbent on seeing Paul and Emma dead. Schaeffer, who wasn’t even influenced by the Black and White had come so close to killing them both before they’d even gotten the chance to be reunited. Ted was now raving about robots and them not being themselves, and clearly hadn’t lost the intent of seeing them dead. As far as they knew, Paul was still Apatha’s favorite. Paul and Emma had made many enemies over the past few months (or lifetimes when one really thought about it), but now that there was a third life in the mix of it all, he understood that they’d do anything to protect it. </p><p>He would too. </p><p>They were his friends. </p><p>His family.  </p><p>He’d do anything in his power to put their minds at ease. </p><p>He looked at Emma, “Do you know how far along you are?” </p><p>Emma nodded, “Phillipa said that it’s likely been three to four weeks. I’m due near the beginning of October.”</p><p>“Damn,” Xander laughed slightly, “You two certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?”</p><p>Paul blushed furiously as Emma looked over and smirked at him. </p><p>“Shut up,” he whispered before dissolving into small laughs as he knew he would never be able to escape her poking and teasing. </p><p>“So…three to four weeks?” John confirmed, to which Emma nodded. </p><p>“Phillipa is gonna have us come in every two weeks to check up on it and perform diagnostic testing to ensure development is on track,” Emma explained, “We couldn’t track down an OBGYN from the survivors, so she’s doing what she can to help us...but then again, the odds aren’t the best.” </p><p>John sighed as he recognized the reality of the statement. He was fairly certain Dr. McMurray’s specialty had been maternal and prenatal care, but he could have been wrong. Still, it was good that Phillipa was knowledgeable in these sorts of things. She wasn’t one of their top physicians for nothing. Still, that didn’t change the fact that the next few months would be extremely rocky for Emma. </p><p>“I would recommend you step away from what’s happening-”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>The two of them had spoken at once. </p><p>“We’ve talked about it,” Paul murmured, looking like he had been deep in thought about the matter, “We want to do everything in our power to make sure the baby’s born safely...but we also don’t want to stop fighting for a means for them to live.”</p><p>“We don’t want it’s whole life to be spent here,” Emma looked down, “If we stop fighting for a better world for our kid, what kind of life are we giving it?” </p><p>“There won’t be one for you to give it if you’re both dead,” John murmured. </p><p>“Exactly,” Emma nodded, “Which is why we’re trying to find a counterpoint. What is the safest way for us to do this, while keeping up in our fight? Besides...what are the guarantees that our stepping away will stop anyone from coming for us?” </p><p>John bit on his lower lip, looking from Xander to the ground. That was a tough call to make. She did make a great point in pointing out that even if they refrained from assisting their efforts, people would still be coming for them.  Giving Emma, Paul,  and their child their best chance wouldn’t be an easy task. Threats like Webby and whatever it was that had inflicted itself upon Ted wouldn’t wait for this child to be born, and they’d need all of the help they could get.</p><p>“How do you feel about working from home?” he asked the both of them.</p><p>Emma thought about it for a moment, “I feel like I would lose my mind…” she said before sighing, “But if it’s what it takes...I’ll do it.”</p><p>John turned to Paul who shrugged, “Are we sure that’s the safest option right now? Isolation?” </p><p>“It’s what we have for now, Paul,” John sighed, turning to Emma “How about you just work from your apartment, leaving occasionally not to arouse any suspicion, but don’t tell anyone about the baby until you’re about two or three months along.” </p><p>Emma nodded, “That’s what we were planning on doing...keeping it a secret for a while. God forbid anything happen…” she trailed off as if she didn’t even want to consider the possibility that the child might not come to full term.</p><p>“We’ll try and think of a better way to keep you both…” Xander started before smiling softly, “Well...all three of you safe and not have you step away. Because, you are right to say you don’t want this place to be where your child grows up. I don't think anyone does.”</p><p>“In the meantime,” John sighed, hating the fact that <em> this </em>was the best solution he could offer them at the moment, “Just lay low, and Emma? You focus on getting to one-hundred percent again.”</p><p>Paul nodded, his hand going over Emma’s. </p><p>John could tell they both were scared. In spite of the joy and excitement that came with the news of a new baby, he imagined that it had to be a situation of much trepidation. </p><p>   Emma and Paul had gotten very lucky that their child was still alive...or had even come to be in this circumstance. He knew it wasn’t something they planned, but judging from the way they were handling it, they were prepared to make whatever sacrifices that were necessary for both their child and for the world. </p><p>He only hoped he could give them the chance at safety and survival that they deserved.</p><p>---</p><p>Tom sighed as he approached the second citadel chamber that they’d used since June Schaeffer had been  arrested. They’d moved Ted down here, since they lacked a proper isolation sector, or any proper means by which they could prevent Ted from harming himself or others, they’d moved him down here.</p><p>He bit down on his lip, waiting for the doors to the citadel chamber to be opened by Rodney, unsure of what to expect from this meeting. He was supposed to go in and try and question Ted, with Dr. Abadi, trying to coax out any coherent information regarding what had happened to him and why he’d attacked Emma. </p><p>The fact that Tom had been chosen for the mission, seemed to Tom like John had had a sudden lapse in judgment. In just a few moments, he was going to be looking into the eyes of a man who’d tried to murder his sister-in-law. With what little credible information John had, he couldn’t defer a sincere and logical motive. Ted’s reason for attacking her didn’t make any sense at all, and yet he’d done it. </p><p>He’d seen Emma when she was leaving the infirmary, all bruised and exhausted, Paul protectively holding one of her hands while he’d used the other to push her wheelchair out of it. They’d exchanged minor pleasantries, not talking about the vague look of joy in her eyes since Emma and Paul were both clearly exhausted and needed some sleep, so he’d let them go...but the bruises and how badly Emma had obviously been hit had filled him  with rage. Still, John had been the one to assign him to this interview, there must have been a reason. </p><p>As he slid his access card into the appropriate slot, watching as the light blinked green and the big heavy door unlocked, he inhaled and exhaled sharply, mentally preparing himself for the work ahead. When John had told him that he’d be doing this, he’d wondered if he was too close to the situation to be of sound judgment. Maybe he’d be emotionally compromised the moment he laid eyes on the man. Or maybe...maybe John knew that he was capable. Maybe John trusted that it wouldn’t happen. </p><p>Collecting himself, he stood up straight as the door slid open and he was met by a blast of cool air as he entered the room that had been transformed into something of a hospital room, moving some minor equipment to the  room to accommodate the man, who was still in need of some medical attention after being shot, and also in need of sedation to prevent him from injuring anyone else. Thankfully, they hadn’t been treating him the way they’d treated Paul when he’d been under the influence of the apotheosis, otherwise he figured that would make hypocrites out of them, and mistreatment of patients was not something they’d be manipulated into doing. It was because of what they’d done to Paul when he’d been under the influence of “Fake Hidgens’” sedative as he tried to convince them to kill the poor man, that he still felt kind of guilty for converting a citadel chamber into the place that they would keep Ted. Still, they didn’t yet understand what had happened to the man, and he had attacked one of their major assets (Emma was more than that to everyone, he knew, but for the sake of reporting that was what they had to say) which made him dangerous. While he wasn’t put under any powerful sedatives like whatever shit Hidgens had put Paul on, it was rare that Ted was ever lucid enough to answer any questions, even rarer for him to answer them coherently. </p><p>On the far side of the room, there was a hospital bed, in which the man in question lay. His eyes were open, their normal hazel color which opposed the almost-white blue and yellow that had overtaken his eyes when he’d been trying to kill Emma restored, but he stared at the ceiling aimlessly, unmoving, making Tom wonder if he was sleeping with his eyes open. There were two nurses in the room, in addition to Dr. Abadi, who was peering over a chart of some kind and comparing two different scans which reminded him vaguely of Emma’s when she’d been comatose in August. Dr. Abadi noticed his presence and walked over to greet him. </p><p>“You ready for this?” she asked, sounding relatively exhausted.</p><p>He managed a small nod, “Is he awake?” </p><p>She sighed, “He’s about as lucid as we could get him with the pain meds for his shoulder.”</p><p>He nodded curly, “That will have to do. Has he said anything?”</p><p>She let out a small dry chuckle, “Just the usual nonsense about a robot, a box, someone named Jenny, and your sister-in-law.”</p><p>He gritted his teeth at the thought. Hopefully he’d be able to get what information he needed out of the man, he only hoped he could keep a lid on his own anger towards the man. With a small nod he walked over to the man’s bedside, taking a seat in the small chair beside it as Dr. Abadi and her companions went about their business. </p><p>For a moment he just studied the man. Paul had given as much contextual knowledge about the man as he could, but when it really came down to the accounts of his former coworkers at CCRP Technical, not many people knew much about Ted’s life, saying that the only time’s he’d even let anything remotely close to his personal life slip was when he was completely wasted, even then, most of his coworkers didn’t take much of what he said seriously. Charlotte Davies, however, had been able to provide information regarding his family life, implying that he had a brother. A brother whose name nobody knew and didn’t know how to track down. Other than that, what few records on the man implied that he had gotten a bachelors in finance and didn’t really strive for anything else in life, landing a job at CCRP and working there since 2010. Regardless of this, Tom was stumped with how he might attempt to connect with Ted Spankoffski, a man who looked like he belonged on a sitcom as the Office-Asshole. </p><p>“Mr. Spankoffski,” he kept his voice not quiet, but clear, trying to assert himself in the means by which the man might respond, “Mr. Spankoffski, can you hear me?” </p><p>The man turned his head over to face him, looking vaguely bemused, “Yeah…”</p><p>His voice sounded...strange...almost as if two voices that both belonged to him had been intertwined. </p><p>“My name is Captain Tom Houston,” Tom spoke as clearly as he could, “I’m here to ask you a few questions, okay?” </p><p>Ted shifted his head again so he could stare at the ceiling. Tom merely sighed and started to ask his questions. </p><p>“Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Spankoffski?” </p><p>The man looked puzzled for a moment, “Span-Spankoffski?” </p><p>Tom leaned in, “Yes...that’s...that’s your surname...Ted Spankoffski.”</p><p>“T-Ted-No!” The man’s eyes widened, “Don’t have a name...never had one.” </p><p>Tom looked at Dr. Abadi, who was listening in on the conversation intently. She looked just as confused as Tom felt.</p><p>“D-Do…” Tom began, “Do you know why you’re here?” </p><p>The man suddenly laughed, “Tried...tried to save myself...Emma’s not Emma…”</p><p>Tom let out a small sigh, “Why did you attack Emma?”</p><p>The man chuckled slightly under his breath, his eyes fluttering open and shut again and again, “Emma’s not Emma...fucking robot...killed me while Paul watched.”</p><p>Tom looked at Dr. Abadi, who was wearing an expression which screamed ‘Yes, it’s been like this the whole time,’. </p><p>He sighed and leaned down trying to keep himself as calm as he possible could while dealing with the man, “But you’re alive...How could Emma have killed you when you’re still very much alive?” </p><p>The man looked scared for a moment before shaking his head, “Master...the master freed me...g-gave me another chance…”</p><p>
  <em> The Master?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What kind of Dracula shit was this? </em>
</p><p>“The master?” he asked, leaning in, “You have a master?” </p><p>The man nodded shakily, “One of many...he holds the box…he and his brothers and sisters...control us all.”</p><p>A chill seemed to settle over the room as Tom suddenly understood the man’s meaning. </p><p>So...the Lords in Black were behind this. </p><p>His heart thudded erratically in his chest. If the Lords in Black were behind Ted’s behavior, their reach was only just beginning. If they were trying to find an elaborate way to get their influence within the walls of the PEIP base, they’d tear what was left of the citizens of Hatchetfield apart from the inside. He breathed deeply and turned his attention to Ted, who was still gazing aimlessly at the ceiling as his voice slurred. </p><p>“Which one of them is the master, Ted?” he asked, trying to keep himself as calm as he could.</p><p>“The goat…” Ted murmured under his breath, “Bastard of Time...sent me to Jenny...killed her...didn’t mean to.”</p><p>
  <em> The Goat.  </em>
</p><p>Of <em> fucking </em>course it was the one they didn’t know much about. </p><p>Tom didn’t even want to consider what those last few words had meant and instead moved on to what he was fairly certain the focus should be. </p><p>“What is the box, Ted?” he asked, leaning in, “And where is it?” </p><p>At the mention of the box, Ted’s eyes widened and he let out a guttural shriek unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Dr. Abadi lurched forward as the man thrashed against his restraints. </p><p>“Sedate him!” she ordered one of the nurses as she held down Ted’s arms in an attempt to prevent the man from hurting himself any more. </p><p>The man continued to scream and thrash, almost as if he was possessed by some desperate spirit that longed to be released into the world. Regardless, Tom was disturbed. </p><p>As soon as one of the nurses had managed to get him to hold still long enough to insert the sedative into his veins, making him slow down and eventually cease in his shouting, his eyes falling shut as he fell back against the pillows. </p><p>Dr. Abadi sighed as she glanced down at his restraints making Tom realize how frayed and almost-torn they were. </p><p>“How many times has he done something like that?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the now-still man. </p><p>Dr. Abadi shook her head, “He’s never done anything like that before...part of it might be that we lessened the dosage on his pain meds for this but…” she shook her head again, “He’s getting worse from what I can tell.”</p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” </p><p>Dr. Abadi sighed and gestured for him to join her at the light panels at which she had been examining two scans. </p><p>The two scans appeared...normal. Almost as if nothing was wrong with them. </p><p>“See those?” Dr. Abadi said, “They look normal, right?” </p><p>He nodded, “Did you run it through Rodney’s software?” </p><p>She nodded in confirmation, “This is <em> after </em>Rodney’s software...they’re both of Spankoffski’s brain. The first is from yesterday...and the second is from earlier this morning.” </p><p>Tom studied the two scans, looking at them. He wasn’t a medical professional by any means. Most of what he’d learned about the human body or the way the brain worked was through osmosis from Jane, or Becky lecturing him about not being more careful on the job, “They both seem normal to me…”</p><p>“Emphasis on <em> seem </em>,” Abadi sighed before pointing to a specific region of the brain, near the center, “If you look close enough you can see almost-black splotches...they look like ink, or like they’re supposed to be a part of the scan...but they’re not.”</p><p>Tom leaned in, squinting. He would admit, his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, but he wasn’t that- oh…</p><p>His eyes fell on the indicated section, and suddenly, on both of the scans, he could make out black tendrils of something he couldn’t identify stretching throughout the middle of the man’s brain, looking like a poisonous flower. While the first one looked like just a small painstroke near the middle and front of his brain, this one looked like it was trying to divide the front part of his brain (he was fairly certain Jane had told him it was called the frontal lobe) into two. Dr. Abadi said that these two scans had been taken within twenty-four hours of one another, right? If that was true, then <em> holy shit, </em> whatever it was, it was spreading quickly. Now that Dr. Abadi had pointed it out, he could see nothing but it. </p><p>“What the hell is it?” he asked, turning to her. </p><p>“I don’t know,” she whispered, “But whatever it is, I think it’s tearing his mind apart.”</p><p>---</p><p>By the time Paul and Emma had made it back to their apartment, he knew she was exhausted beyond imagination.  As he closed the door behind them, she let out a small sigh of relief. They’d just gotten back from having dinner with John and Xander, who’d invited them to stay for dinner to celebrate the baby. </p><p>
  <em> Their baby.  </em>
</p><p>He smiled at the thought. </p><p>Emma smiled up at him as she began to roll herself towards the bedroom, having gotten the hang of using it to get around since she’d gotten back from being stuck in the caves for so long. For a moment he just watched her, not realizing that he was doing it, a fond expression crossing his face. As she pushed open the door to gain entrance to the bedroom, she looked over her shoulder to where he was leaning against the wall. </p><p>A smirk settled over her face as she caught sight of his glance, she rolled her eyes, “You gonna just stand there looking like a dork all night, or are you gonna come to bed?” </p><p>He snapped out of it immediately, a blush settling over his face, “Y-Yeah...I just…” </p><p><em> I just love you, </em> he thought as he gazed at this incredible woman. Instead of finishing his sentence, he just chuckled and shook his head, which made her laugh in turn, such a wonderful sound to him.</p><p>She rolled her eyes again, “Well, c’mon then…”</p><p>He walked over to join her, helping her push herself over the threshold of the door as one of the bulky wheels wasn’t necessarily cooperating. She nodded in thanks as she moved over to the bathroom to brush her teeth before she had to set to getting out of the chair and into bed, looking exhausted by the events of the day. </p><p>He couldn’t believe it. It had been well over twenty four hours since they’d been told that they were expecting, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. He knew that keeping it a secret was going to be difficult, since he’d wanted to announce from the highest mountains that he and Emma were gonna be parents. That they were going to bring another addition into their little family. Of course, it wasn’t something he and Emma had actively planned, but it was a miracle all the same.</p><p>Needless to say, he was <em> terrified. </em></p><p>A baby. </p><p>Theirs. </p><p>In the middle of the end of the world, he would get a chance to see something that both he and Emma had created. A new life in the middle of so much death and destruction. A new life that he knew would instantly become the center of his and Emma’s world. He would do anything to protect Emma and the child. </p><p>Since they’d received that wonderful news yesterday, he’d found himself contemplating everything that had to come with it. </p><p>He knew it would be difficult to keep this news from people. He knew that the first person he’d wanted to tell would be Bill. Bill had been his best friend and mentor for as long as Paul could remember, and he’d probably know the ins and outs of parenthood, especially if the baby turned out to be a girl. Though, he figured Emma might want to tell Tom and Tim first, so that Becky didn’t have to keep the secret to herself for so long (the angel of a woman had sworn to secrecy before they’d left the infirmary, saying that it was their information to give, so nobody would hear it from her) and since they were family. God, Tim would be so excited to have a cousin. Tim would be the best cousin. And of course, they had to tell Lex, Ethan, and Hannah, they were the only relatives he actually had so they had to know...God, he could hardly wait for the appropriate months to pass by so they could tell them about the new addition to their family.</p><p>He found himself wondering what the child would be like. Would it be a boy or a girl? Of course, he and Emma would support their child if they were trans, or nonbinary, or somewhere in between, and love it regardless of what they chose to do with their life. Would they be tall and slim like him? Or short and curvy like their mother? Or maybe even a perfect combination of the two? Would they follow in their parents footsteps of introversion, or be extroverted? Honestly, he didn’t care what gender their kid would identify as or look like (even if he <em> did </em>hold the silent wish for another pair of Emma’s gorgeous brown eyes staring back up at him), who they loved, or what they wanted to do with their life, he just wanted a happy, healthy child. </p><p>A child he’d get the honor and privilege of raising alongside <em> Emma Perkins </em>. </p><p>It almost seemed like a dream.</p><p>Of course, Phillipa had told them that they would run as many prenatal tests and checkups as they could to determine whether or not the development of their child was going normally, since with as much trauma as Emma’s body had endured over a span of a few months it was a miracle that the fetus had survived this long. The discussion of this, of course, had left him very anxious and concerned, but also determined. Determined to do as much as he could to make things easier for Emma. Determined to ensure that no harm would come to her or their child. </p><p>Determined to be a better father than his had been to him. </p><p>Of course, his dad was a shitty excuse of a person. He shouldn’t have been allowed within a yard of a child with the way he’d treated Paul, even <em> before </em>his mother had died. It had taken forever for Paul to realize that trying to campaign for his father’s love was pointless. His father had only kept Paul and his mother around for sake of propriety. Had it not been for that, he would have probably left the second his mother had told him she was pregnant. Because his father had been such an asshole, Paul went by his mother’s name. Even though his father felt obligated to stick around, he liked to say that because Paul had his mother’s surname- Matthews- as opposed to Peterson- his fathers surname- he could dump Paul somewhere and no one would be any more the wiser that he was his son. He could never understand parents like his father. How could someone not love a human being they’d chosen to bring into the world? As a child, after his mother had died, Paul had done everything in his power to earn his father’s love, and yet, he was only met by more disdain. His mother had been the only source of parental love he’d received back then, and she was gone before he could even comprehend the word ‘cancer’. </p><p>Regardless of how much hell he’d been put through while he was growing up, Paul had sworn the moment he realized that Emma was going to have a baby-<em> their baby- </em> that he was going to be much better than his father had been. Even though being a better parent than his father was a really low bar to surpass, he had sworn to be the best possible parent he could be to this child, no matter the cost. He was going to make sure that his child knew how much he loved them. He was going to make sure that his and Emma’s baby never felt like they had to prove themselves in order to earn their love. </p><p>He turned over to where Emma had suddenly emerged from the bathroom, her hair freed from it’s messy bun as she moved to her side of the bed. Within moments, she was trying to get herself out of her chair and onto the bed, wincing at the soreness in her back as he could see some of the clear and painful-looking bruises across her neck. </p><p>It still made him sick to see the bruises that were angrily marking her neck and back. Though some of them had already begun to heal, they served as a reminder to him not to let that happen again. He didn’t care what it was that had seemingly overtaken Ted, whatever it was, he’d do whatever it took to protect Emma and their child from it. </p><p>She cursed under her breath as she struggled to push herself out of the chair with as much ease as she was used to doing, having gotten used to it after coming back from the caves. </p><p>“Need some help?” he asked. </p><p>She didn’t respond, instead sighing exhaustedly, making his heart ache a little bit. Since they’d found out about the baby, Emma had resigned herself to doing whatever she could to protect it, but the attack from the day before had clearly left its own scars that one couldn’t see. </p><p>He walked over to her side of the bed and stood beside her for a moment, just looking at her again, looking at the tiredness in her eyes. She looked like she was stubbornly exhausted. Like it was one of those nights when she wouldn’t bring herself to admit the fact that she was tired.  Instead of saying anything, he just leaned down and scooped her up, bridal-style out of the chair, careful to avoid her bruises eliciting a small squeal from her. </p><p>“<em> Paul!” </em>she laughed, clinging to him for dear life, suddenly the tiredness and fatigue disappearing in her fit of giggles, making his own grin spark to life on his face, “Put me down!”</p><p>Gently, as not to hurt her bruises or excite her too much, he flopped her down on the bed, smiling at the incessant laughter that was coming from her as she suddenly found herself on the bed. </p><p>She tried to glare at him, but it was clearly compromised still by the laughter and giggles that were simmering beneath her failed attempt at a glower, “You know I hate it when you do that.”</p><p>He grinned, “It’s okay if you actually do like it, Em...I won’t tell anyone.”</p><p>“Good,” she smiled, rolling her eyes at his antics, “I’d hate to be predictable.”</p><p>He smiled at her before starting to get ready for bed, shedding his work uniform and changing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for bed. </p><p>As he placed his clothes in the small hamper, he was struck from behind with a wad of clothes that had suddenly found themselves strewn across his shoulders. He cast a playful glare at Emma, who’d changed into one of his T-shirts, which might as well have been a dress on her with how small she was in comparison to him. </p><p>“Payback,” she declared from her place on the bed.</p><p>He hummed noncommittally as he placed her clothes in the hamper and went to brush his teeth quickly, occasionally peeking out the bathroom door to see where she was trying to get comfy on the bed, her stiff back and neck clearly not giving her a moment’s peace. He rinsed his toothbrush and turned off the bathroom light, quickly sitting down beside her on the bed, the dim light of her bedside lamp casting a dim golden glow across the room. She’d already pulled back the sheets and comforter as she tried to get comfortable on her side of the bed, shifting ceaselessly. </p><p>“You okay?” he whispered as he scooted closer to her. </p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded, shifting some more,“Just sore…”</p><p>She reached up and flicked off the lamp, allowing the fake window to be the only source of slight light. He scooted closer to her as they both lay down, the cool and softness of the sheets being welcoming. </p><p>She pulled herself closer to him and nestled her face into his chest as he settled down. Gingerly, he moved his hand to a section of her back that wasn’t as badly bruised and felt her relax slightly under her touch. </p><p>The night before had been rough. Between the bruises and pain she was experiencing from what Ted had done, she had hardly gotten a lick of sleep. He’d done his best to stay up with her so that she felt safe and knew he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to her, but by the time the small alarm clock on his bedside table had read one in the morning, he and her had both drifted off into somewhat restless sleep. She couldn’t sleep because of the pain, from what he understood, and he’d done his best to keep tylenol and a glass of water on her bedside table should she need it, but Emma being Emma meant she was gonna hold off from painkillers as much as she could. One of the difficulties that came with her pregnancy now, was the fact that she couldn’t take any of the special painkillers for her leg. He’d lost sleep, however, because he kept seeing things in his sleep. It was never a full-on nightmare, but it came close as he heard people telling him that Emma had died when Ted attacked her, or that Ted’s attack had resulted in a miscarriage. Regardless, neither of them had gotten much sleep. </p><p>He couldn’t shake the sense of worry that something would go wrong. Part of him didn’t want to let Emma out of his sight, especially after what had happened yesterday, but he knew that realistically speaking he couldn’t control <em> everything </em>in this equation. No matter how much he wanted to. But he couldn’t help being anxious. He knew Emma was more than capable of handling herself, but what if they were taken by surprise? What if something happened and he lost them both? What if he’d suddenly had this hope and joy that surrounded the chances of them having a family of their own to have it taken away? What if he shouldn’t have gotten his hope for this up at all? </p><p>To lose the baby would crush them both, he knew. The mere idea of it was enough to make him feel sick and sink into a pit of hopelessness. Emma and he had almost immediately accepted the idea of having a child, and he knew they were both excited by it...but if they were to lose it…</p><p>And what of Emma? What if he lost her too? He knew that would kill him. He’d already lived in a world where she was dead and that had made every single day excruciating and he had no intention of reliving it. He couldn’t face a life without her light. </p><p>Losing them both...he couldn’t bear the idea of it. </p><p>He’d die with them both. No matter how melodramatic that sounded, he knew it to be true as the thoughts and worries that surrounded such fears and worries were like sharp daggers to his mind. </p><p>He’d only known that he was going to be a father for a little over twenty four hours and already he knew he’d give his life for Emma and their child. </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” she whispered, suddenly drawing his mind away from all of the anxiety that would inevitably keep him up for the majority of the evening. </p><p>He hummed under his breath, “The baby…”</p><p>She glanced up at him, “Thinking about the baby as in...exciting thoughts...or worried thoughts?” </p><p>He didn’t answer, which made her sigh, “Paul, worrying isn’t gonna do any good.”</p><p>“I know,” he whispered, “I just...I can’t...Ted nearly <em> killed </em>you, Emma...thank God Hidgens intervened when he did...but he was close…”</p><p>Emma nodded, “I know…” </p><p>“And you heard what Phillipa said,” he went on, “The fact that this even happened is…”</p><p>“Is a miracle, Paul,” she soothed, reaching up to cup his face, “The best we can do is be as careful as we can.” </p><p>“But what if that’s not enough?” he asked, feeling his hands start to shake as his mind raced, “What if something happens, and we can’t do anything about it-”</p><p>“You can’t think like that, Paul,” she soothed, cutting him off, “Right now, you’re here with me...you’re safe, I’m safe...<em> the baby’s safe </em>...we need to take it one day at a time if we want to survive, okay?” </p><p>He sighed as he considered her words. She always knew what to say to put his mind at ease. </p><p>She was right, of course. </p><p>No matter how much he wanted to control everything or be prepared for everything, he knew that worrying could only make things worse. Besides, he knew his worrying would certainly not do Emma any good.  </p><p>“Okay, ” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to her forehead, “Sorry if I seem a little...overbearing…”</p><p>Emma chuckled, “It's okay to be anxious...I mean, I'm pretty fucking scared too...but we can't let that ruin how good this is.”</p><p>He nodded again, “I love you, Em...you and the baby...more than you could ever know.”</p><p>She smiled, “I love you too. I can't speak for our spawn, but if this kid is anything like me, they love you already…” he watched as a lovely smile crossed her face, “And I know they do...plus, you're gonna be an amazing father...that I’m sure of.”</p><p>He chuckled lightly, “And you're gonna be a fantastic mother.”</p><p>“Right?” she chuckled, “I know we're both going to love this kid so much...and we’re going to do our best to give them a life they’re deserving of, right?”</p><p>He nodded as she went on, “Which means we’re gonna stay as calm as we can and not worry about what’s not going on at the moment, okay?”</p><p>He sighed as he managed a small smile, “Okay…”</p><p>She smiled and met his lips softly, “Okay.”</p><p>She settled into his arms nestling close, her eyes shutting. He tried to calm himself, but his mind still raced. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he held her closer.</p><p>“You’re still thinking,” she whispered into his chest.</p><p>Before he could respond, she spoke again, “Just listen, Paul,” she whispered nestling closer into him, “Find something to listen to and focus on it...let the rest seep away…okay?”</p><p>He sighed again and closed his eyes.</p><p>What could he focus on. There was so much that he would be able to hear...what could he possibly…</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>He held Emma closer, and listened.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thump thump </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Very soon he began to hear her heartbeat, a steady and calm pace, lulling him to sleep with every beat. All of it repeating. The rhythm made him feel like he was being pulled into sleep by the regularity of her heart rhythm. In some ways holding onto her heartbeat had been enough to make him pull through the hours of torture that Schaeffer seemed to love putting him through, and in some ways he found it was doing the same thing again, calming the black and rough waters of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thump thump. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thump thump. </em>
</p><p><em> Thump </em> thump <em> thump. </em></p><p> </p><p>He opened his eyes, suddenly realizing Emma’s heartbeat was faster...some beats quieter than the others...and it didn’t match up to the beat of her heart that he could feel under the light touch of his hands. The beats were constant, some stronger than others, matching to the rhythm he’d been hearing from Emma before, but the others...the lighter ones were on their own rhythm entirely.</p><p> </p><p><em> Thump </em> thump <em> thump. </em></p><p><em> Thump </em> thump <em> thump. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wait… </em>
</p><p>He was hearing a heartbeat...but not<em> just </em>Emma’s.</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em>Oh my God,” he whispered, making Emma’s eyes shoot open and she glanced up at him, looking like she was concerned.</p><p>“What?” She asked, looking like she was gonna move to sit up, her eyes filling with some slight anxiety as she cupped his jaw, “What’s wrong?”</p><p>He smiled at her, feeling his eyes fill with tears as he listened to the two rhythms.</p><p>“I…” he began, smiling wide and letting out a small chuckle as he listened to the two separate rhythms, the most beautiful sound he could hear other than Emma’s laughter, “I can hear...I can hear the baby’s heartbeat….”</p><p>A wide grin spread across her face as disbelief filled her eyes, looking so beautiful in the dim light from the fake window, “No shit?”</p><p>He wiped a tear from his eyes and nodded, “Yes...yes shit…”</p><p>She was smiling so wide he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Tears filled her eyes as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “What...what does it sound like?”</p><p>“Like you,” he said without hesitation.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“The sound is beautiful,” he whispered before peering down at the love of his life. The woman who was carrying their baby. The woman who made him feel like he could do anything. He looked her dead in the eye as he continued, the beautiful sound of their child’s heartbeat intertwined with hers still the only sound he wanted to keep hearing.</p><p>“...and strong.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>John and Xander have decided to be the coolest uncles to the Paulkins Spawn.</p><p>Tom is determined to protect his family, even if he has no clue what they're dealing with.</p><p>Paul and Emma are gonna be fantastic parents. I just...love ✨😭them 😭✨</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!!! I'd love to hear your feedback!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you have a safe and wonderful day!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. If I Stop Trying, We Start Dying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The group has another briefing.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So sorry that it’s been a while since my last update!!! I had another tech week and another show to get through and wasn’t making it home until after midnight, so working on this one was a bit rough!</p><p>The title for this one comes from the song ‘Shadow Preachers’ by Zella Day.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: January 31st, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>“I hate these things,” Ethan groaned as they trudged through the hallways, “They always mean that something bad happened...and it’s only gonna get worse.”</p><p>Lex chuckled under her breath, “I think they already did, E.” </p><p>“Shit,” Ethan shook his head, “When did we become the audience for everything awful?” </p><p>“Always have been,” Hannah murmured, a small smile on her face. </p><p>Lex grinned down at her little sister in spite of the grim statement. Hannah had been in a strangely good mood for the past couple of days, never being able to provide a good reason for why. It was almost as if Hannah was concealing a secret and refused to reveal whatever it was that was making her so happy until the world saw fit. </p><p>“What do you think, Hannah?” she asked, watching her little sister walk alongside them, a small smile on her face, “How bad do you think the meeting will go tonight?”</p><p>“Bad news...not bad,” Hannah nodded, her face falling slightly, “Will have more time before it gets worse.” </p><p>Lex didn’t know what to think of that. </p><p>Between what had happened with that tall greasy man and the portal room all those days ago, and the fact that she couldn’t remember a second of it, she had been on-edge. She couldn’t remember what it was that she’d even been doing. All she knew was that one second, she was headed back to the apartment with the groceries and the next, she’d been in the portal room, crumpled to the ground with the tall guy (she was fairly certain the man’s name was Ted?) and that <em> fucking </em>old man. </p><p>The anger she’d felt upon seeing him had known no bounds. It had been lucky for him that Ethan had been holding her when she’d realized he was there so she didn’t try and kill him herself. She didn’t know what the hell he was doing there, but she knew that the last time she’d had an encounter with the old man, he’d used a copy of her body to manipulate those around her as some sort of watchdog while she was imprisoned in some sort of grey glass. She shuddered at the memory. If Paul and Emma hadn’t found her, she didn’t know what would have happened. At the very least, she figured, they wouldn’t still be alive. </p><p>She didn’t trust the man at all. Honestly, had it been up to her, she would have seen the man’s ass dragged down to the same cell as Schaeffer and watched the two finish one another off. Especially since all reports indicated that Schaeffer’s behavior had suddenly become more akin to the patterns of a wild animal desperate to kill something. She would have liked to see them tear one another apart and rid PEIP of the problems they cause, but then of course, the humanity she had (which Schaeffer and Hidgens lacked) insisted that killing them would fix nothing. No matter how much she wanted that justice for herself, for what Hidgens had done to her (or some other version of himself, as he liked to claim), she would have to live amongst him for a little bit longer.   </p><p>When she and Ethan had been informed of the attack that had happened in Emma’s labs, she hadn’t known what to think. The idea that the same man who’d ended up unconscious (and looking high as a fucking kite) had somehow found his way into Emma’s secure labs specifically and managed to try and kill her was terrifying and made her feel as if they truly could be safe nowhere.</p><p>Thankfully, they’d seen Emma the day before, and though she was bruised and rattled, and Paul clearly looked like he didn’t want to let her out of his sight for more than a minute, she was mostly unharmed and on the mend. She’d said something about working from home for a while until they found a way to understand why Ted was acting the way he was, and how they would confront the issue, which was supposed to be the outcome of this next meeting at Xander and John’s apartment. Despite having a few hairline fractures in her arm, as well as a shit-ton of bruises, Emma seemed to be on the mend.</p><p>In some ways, Lex admired Emma. Emma had been through hell and high water over the course of her life, and somehow she managed to keep going. Despite whatever physical trauma her body sustained, she kept going. Hell, the woman had practically torn herself apart to retrieve the souls of her soulmate and two strangers. Had it not been for Emma, Lex was fairly certain she’d be still living in a world without Ethan. In a world where she didn’t know that she had blood relatives like Paul who actually didn’t suck. In a world where she’d still be stuck in that shitty trailer with her sorry excuse for a mother. Emma didn’t even have her left leg anymore, and somehow still found the strength to keep moving forward. God, what Lex wouldn’t give to be like that for Hannah.  </p><p>As they made their way to John and Xander’s hallway, Lex found herself thinking of what they would have to discuss. Obviously, it would have to do with what Ted had done, and what had happened to them, but what would that entail? She figured they’d be there for a while. Hopefully they had more facts to consider rather than what they normally had, which was a whole lot of speculation. She just wanted them to survive. She didn’t want to die before her life was taken from her. She wanted Hannah to have a life of her own one day. A life where she could see the world outside of Hatchetfield. A life where they didn’t have to worry about mythological spider beings haunting their every thoughts.  </p><p>A good life. </p><p>Ethan must have noticed how her look of disdain, because smiled softly at her and squeezed her hand, “Hopefully, for one night, everything won’t spiral out of control.”  </p><p>She managed a small nod. Thankfully, she and Ethan hadn’t been forced to work in the mechanics bay since Schaeffer had been apprehended, and with Ethan’s arm on the mend since he’d been shot, they’d been able to focus on some form of schooling, at the insistence of Mr. Houston and Xander. Turns out, they weren’t as stupid as most of their teachers at Hatchetfield High seemed insistent upon letting them know, the public school system was just fucked. Maybe she did have a chance to get a degree in...well, something. Maybe she could find her place in the world, after all...if there was a world for her to go back to once this was all over...if it was ever all over.</p><p>Ethan took the initiative to knock on Xander and John’s door once they’d made it, looking like he was anxious for the meeting part of their gathering to be done with so they could do the much more fun part of just talking and acting like they really were a family. </p><p>She knew how much that had meant to Ethan. Since he’d met Paul and John in the Black and white, Ethan found himself attached to them, regarding them in a way she hadn’t seen him regard anyone other than his own father and at times Mr. Houston. Ethan had never had a big family in his life, and neither had Lex or Hannah, which was why being a part of a group who loved and accepted them, like they truly were a large accepting family. With these people, all of them scattered about throughout life without anybody else they felt they should turn to. In some ways they’d all become their own little family. Their own little group of outliers who only had one or two people they trusted, suddenly depending on one another for survival. What she had done to deserve that, she didn’t know. </p><p>She knew that she liked them, though. In some ways they all made up the form of parenting that she would have liked to see in her own mother. Back when she thought Pamela was capable of trying. She saw different characteristics that somehow made her feel like she’d fallen in with the right adults. It always amazed her how they seemed to <em> want </em>to take care of them. They wanted to take care of two high school dropouts and a little girl who had a dream of setting up a life in California like they thought they’d find gold there, or something of the sort. And yet, they offered no judgement. They didn’t scoff at their ideas of their dreams, they encouraged them. Not only had they encouraged them, they helped them find ways by which they could logically achieve them. Before all of this, Lex would have felt odd to accept their help...and yet, somehow, she felt as though she were actually accepted and welcomed there. She felt like they were actually willing and supportive, all of the things her mother had never been. While they allowed them to remain their own individual people without compromising the lifestyle that they kept, they had been a guiding force in their lives, helping them survive in a time when chances of survival were...well, to put it simply, slim. </p><p>The door opened before them and they were met by a smiling John, “Lex, Ethan Hannah, C’mon in!” he was smiling warmly at them as the smell of something like chicken wafted to them, making Lex’s stomach growl slightly. As the man shuffled them into the apartment he continued to speak, “You know you can just let yourself in when it comes to these things.”</p><p>“We like knocking,” Lex shrugged. </p><p>When they came to the living room, they saw that they were late to arrive as everyone they’d known  had already taken their seats comfortably. Xander was seated in a comfy armchair, a glass of something that was probably alcoholic, looking majestic as ever. He smiled and waved at them as they came in, watching as John retreated into the kitchen to where whatever it was that they were cooking smelled fantastic.  Paul and Emma were on the couch, Emma’s wheelchair folded neatly as if leaned against the wall while it’s occupant was lounging tiredly against one of the arms, while her leg and residual limb were draped across Paul’s lap. Lex noticed immediately how exhausted Emma looked, and winced at the sight of her bruises, still mottling the skin of her neck, her arm still in a weird splint. Lex stopped herself from staring at the exhaustion on her face and moved onward, instead looking at Tom and Becky, who were seated on something that looked relatively like a futon that John or Xander would have used during college but never got rid of, Tim seated beside them. When his eyes fell on Hannah they widened and he waved, “Hey Hannah!”</p><p>Hannah smiled wide and reciprocated a wave, taking off to meet Tim in the middle of the room as he held up a board game excitedly. While she couldn’t hear their conversation, she saw the two look over at John and Xander, as if asking for permission to go into their small media room to play it. When Xander nodded in affirmative, Hannah looked over her shoulder, also asking permission. </p><p>Lex smiled as she and Ethan fell onto the couch beside Paul and Emma, “Go ahead, Banana.” </p><p>Hannah smiled brightly before running off, making Lex chuckled to herself. </p><p>“She’s been in a really good mood lately,” Ethan murmured.</p><p>Lex hummed, “Honestly, I’m just glad she is happy...especially when shit like this is going down.”</p><p>Tom leaned forward, “How’s schooling treating the two of you?”</p><p>Ethan groaned, “I mean...it’s fine...still can’t spell for shit, though.”</p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow, “Spelling issues?” </p><p>Ethan nodded with a small sigh, “Yeah...reading too. I mean, I <em> can </em>read...just...words and letters are all fucked…”</p><p>Tom grumbled under his breath, “Did they ever screen you for dyslexia?” </p><p>“Dys-what?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“Dyslexia,” Becky explained, “It's a learning disorder that makes reading somewhat difficult.”</p><p>“Great,” Ethan muttered under his breath, “Just when I thought I couldn’t get any worse-”</p><p>“Hey!” Tom raised an eyebrow, “Being dyslexic doesn’t make you worse...it's just a little harder.”</p><p>Ethan hummed noncommittally under his breath. Lex knew that adapting to schooling was harder for him. In addition to struggling with reading, staying focused was difficult, even when he was extremely determined to learn. Back a Hatchetfield High, she and Ethan had both become disillusioned with learning and eventually led to them both dropping out (much to the disappointment of Tony), but since PEIP had offered them a way to continue their learning, Ethan had been the one to insist that they take it. She figured it had something to do with making Tony proud, wherever he was in the world. Ethan really was trying...and he was doing good! All of the engineering prerequisites that he signed up for had been successful! It was just some of the more core classes he was struggling in.  </p><p>“If you want,” Tom began, “I’ve still got my teacher’s licensure...if that’s worth shit nowadays... and I’ve got some free time around base. If you want, I can help you if there’s anything you need help with.”</p><p>Ethan’s eyes softened slightly, “I-I’d like that…thanks, man…” </p><p>Tom smiled warmly, “No problem…”</p><p>For a moment, the group lapsed into comfortable silence, not feeling awkward or tense as the sounds of Tim and Hannah laughing from the other room made them smile to themselves. </p><p>“See,” Xander began, smiled as Tim laughed from the other room, “It’s stuff like that...like hearing them laugh that makes it all seem okay.” </p><p>“Here here,” Tom muttered, taking a sip of his drink, “Things suck right now, but you can’t beat Tim’s laugh...or Hannah’s for that matter.”</p><p>Lex knew how right they were. Though almost every single day seemed to carry an undertone of death, just a small smile was enough to brighten her day, especially if it was from Ethan and Hannah. She’d never been one to believe all of those cheesy maxims which made it all seem like everything was going to be okay with a smile and a song. She knew life wasn’t sunshine and rainbows or peaches and cream. No matter how much she wanted to believe that dreams could come true, the bitter truth of life was that it was you or another person. She’d been forced to learn that earlier on, and work her hardest to make sure that she and Hannah didn’t starve to death. Her mother certainly wasn’t going to feed them, so survival now depended solely on Lex. Even now, when they were in the middle of the apocalypse, she still remembered the truth; nobody could make the darkness disappear...but damn if seeing Hannah smile didn’t make her day instantly better. </p><p>John entered the room suddenly, “The rice and chicken probably needs like half an hour before it’s ready.” </p><p>Xander sighed and sat up, “Does that mean we should move on to the more serious business?” </p><p>“If you all see it fit,” John nodded, taking a seat on another armchair.</p><p>Lex swallowed hard. This meant that it was time to get onto the matters at hand, being reminded that the world they lived in was a nightmare.  Just the sight of the files that John was breaking out was enough for her to suddenly feel like reality was a lot worse than she wanted it to be. Though the warmth of being in a family remained, the sudden terse silence that overtook the room seemed to be stiff and ever-present. A red thread binding all of them together, the risk of it snapping keeping them all on their toes. A bitter reminder that they had to keep fighting to keep the sinking ship on which they all lived afloat. For everyone’s sake.</p><p>Ethan sighed and stood, “I’ll break out the capri-suns.”</p><p>---</p><p>    Emma sighed and leaned closer into Paul’s warmth, holding his hand as John sat down, placing a collection of files on the coffee table in front of them. </p><p>In some ways, she was reminded of the days when they would have these subtle briefings in John and Xanders apartment, back when going outside was a thing. Back when they thought they could trust Schaeffer. Back when they’d been convinced that whatever the hell it was that Hidgens may or may not have been up to would be the biggest of their worries. </p><p>She cast a glance down at her residual limb. Since the second surgery she’d had, after going into sepsis, the patchwork of scars that Xander and John had left behind from amputating her leg had gotten somewhat neater and somewhat worse at the same time. It really depended on perspective. Thankfully, her leg hadn’t been giving her that much grief since they’d started working at home, and she’d been able to stay in lazy lounge clothes, which was most definitely a plus. While she didn’t like just staying in one place for too long, she was grateful that she could spend more time with Paul, and spare him the anxiety of worrying about her wherever she was on base.</p><p>That morning had just been spent with the two of them processing Data that they’d been sent from the labs and intelligence sectors. They’d altered where they’d worked several times throughout the day. Sometimes curling up on the couch together while she typed up an analysis and he read over a report, sometimes on the bed, sometimes one of them would be one the couch and the other at the small kitchen table. All that she cared about was the fact that they were together and that the day had been spent without much worry. Worry was something they never seemed to be rid of. But in those quiet moments...moments when it was just the two of them, sometimes she felt like maybe they could be normal. </p><p>Thankfully, she hadn’t been struck with morning sickness that morning, which had made the morning all the more bearable. It wasn’t that she was dreading the symptoms that came with...well, carrying a literal human being inside of you...it  was more that she was hoping she wouldn’t hate it. </p><p>When she’d been a child, her mother had never ceased to tell Emma was a dreadful pregnancy hers had been. While there had never been any tales of horror for what a terrible child or infant she had been, the way that her mother had characterized pregnancy had been enough to make Emma decide she never wanted children. Well, what a fucking lie that had been.</p><p>“So, what do we have so far?” Tom asked, stroking his beard as he looked down at the stack of files as John opened them carefully. </p><p>“I think we should recount the events as we know them,” John sighed before turning to Lex, who shifted uncomfortably, “Lex, would you recount what you remember from January 23rd? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course...” </p><p>“No…” Lex sighed, “There’s not much, so I don’t know what good it’ll do you...”</p><p>“We appreciate whatever it is you have to offer, Lex,” Xander smiled.</p><p>The teen nodded and sighed again. </p><p>Emma felt somewhat sorry for the girl. She was a lot stronger than she let on, but it couldn’t have been easy. Already she’d been possessed by the powers of the Black and White, a copy of her body that nobody was able to recognize was being used to harm them...and now this was going to happen again. Since the portal incident, Emma had noticed that Lex refused to go anywhere near the labs. She knew why, of course. After what the thing that wasn’t Hidgens  had done to her all those months ago, it made sense that the girl was hellbent on staying away from them. Emma herself, was inclined to ensure that Hidgens never got within a thousand feet of her. Not after what had happened. </p><p>Still, Emma was torn when it came to trusting Hidgens. On one hand, he’d saved her life...and the life of her child, now that she thought about it. But there was still the chance that he was under some sort of influence by the Black and white, he’d been summoned on terms that clearly were not those that Jane from the daydream had planned, and there was a whole list of the things that Demon-Hidgens had done (attempting to kill Paul and kidnap Tim, included) which made him all more suspicious in her mind. She didn’t know that the demon version of him, or whatever the fuck that thing was, was completely gone. She didn’t know whether or not this was truly the Hidgens from the daydream...and even if it was, how did she know for a fact that she could trust him? </p><p>She wouldn’t chance it. </p><p>Not yet. </p><p>She knew that John and Xander wouldn’t either, no matter what he’d done to try and redeem himself in their eyes, which somewhat put her mind at ease. </p><p>“I went to go get groceries from the commissary,” Lex sighed, sipping from the juice box that Ethan had provided himself and Lex with, “I was leaving, when I got touched on the shoulder by the greasy mustache man...next thing I know, I’m in the portal room. The guy’s there...fucking Hidgens is there...you guys were there…” she shrugged, “You get the gist.”</p><p>Emma had to stop herself from shuddering at the thought of the portal. When Ethan had come in and told them that Lex was missing, she hadn’t known what to think. Then, when Paul had suddenly known that the portal was open, she’d been filled with so much fear in that moment...she couldn’t imagine losing Paul to a portal again. In that moment, she’d only been able to remember how helpless she’d felt as she’d watched Paul get dragged, bleeding and disoriented, into the portal, just before the shadows consumed her and another lifetime began...one without him. She couldn’t go back to living like that. Living without knowing that she’d ever loved him. Living without the knowledge that she was <em> capable </em> of being loved like that. When he’d said that the portal was open, she’d suddenly felt fear unlike anything she’d known before consuming her. She couldn’t afford to lose him...especially not now. </p><p>Of course, he hadn’t...and she’d done her best to shake off the slight fear that he’d be lost. She wouldn’t allow herself to live in such fear. It would do her no good. It would do nobody any good. All she could do was hope they didn’t fucking die and that there was still a world worth saving...if they could save it. </p><p>John nodded, “Thank you...and you have no idea what could have happened between the two hours of lost time?” </p><p>Lex shook her head, “It was almost like blinking...I closed my eyes for what felt like a second, the next thing I knew I was in the portal room.”</p><p>“Which of course,” Xander began, “Begs the question of why….why was Lex summoned…” </p><p><em>Summoned.</em> <em>Possessed. Used. </em></p><p>The meaning was still there, Emma knew, as she took a sip of the tea that Becky had subtly made for her before Tom or the others had gotten there. </p><p>“Hidgens,” Paul murmured, looking up, “They needed Lex there to get Hidgens back.”</p><p>“Again,” Becky remarked, “<em> Why? </em> Why would we need Hidgens, who’s technically been dead since 1976?” </p><p>“Besides,” Ethan began, “How do we know that it was...whatever the ugly-ass Goat’s name is?”</p><p>“Oh it was him,” Tom nodded, taking a sip of his drink with a shudder, “Ted confirmed it during my questioning of him the other day.” </p><p>“Then what does he want?” Paul asked, leaning forward, “Why would they bring back Hidgens?” </p><p>Emma thought about this. </p><p>Honestly, the fact that Hidgens had come back at all was something of a mystery to her. Jane had said something about finding Henry, which Hidgens in the dreamscape seemed to affirm...but why had he seemed so confused about how he’d been summoned. Clearly, Webby had used Lex’s ability to bring Hidgens back...or do whatever it was that happened to Ted, but why? Lex was a powerhouse. Anybody who could do the things that Lex had done without breaking a sweat was a force to be reckoned with, and Webby was a fool if she couldn’t see that. Lex had been used to bring Hidgens back for Webby, but was at the very least acting like he was on their side and didn’t know why he was brought back in that manner, it couldn’t have been good. Even if Hidgens thought he was on their side, he could have been used without even realizing.  If Webby and whoever the Goat was, were really trying to do something to draw them out, and were using Hidgens as a means to get to them, they truly were...well, to put it nicely, <em> fucked.  </em></p><p>“Hidgens does have a vast knowledge of the Black and White,” Xander mused, “For all we know, he could still be their servant.” </p><p>“See...I don’t think that’s the case,” John murmured, “He seemed just as confused as we were when he came through.”</p><p>“The man’s an actor!” Tom said incredulously, “He could be playing us like a fiddle and we would be none the wiser.” </p><p>“Still,” Becky reasoned, sounding quiet, “He did save Emma’s life.”</p><p>Emma swallowed hard,  taking note of the way that Paul shifted uncomfortably beside her, his hand protectively going to her hand. It was hard to think about what had happened, she would admit. Knowing that someone could have wiped two lives so quickly off of the board had Hidgens not intervened…She sighed and looked down. Somehow, the thought was still so nauseating to her. She had to resist the urge to put a hand over her stomach. </p><p>Part of her had been both excited and apprehensive that Paul had been able to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Most of it was excitement, of course. The exhilaration of knowing that she was carrying a living thing, something that was a combination of her and Paul...not an illusion created by anything from the Black and White...something good...was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Her fear, however, was that one day it would stop...that Paul would hear it stop...that the human they hadn’t planned for, but were willing to accept almost immediately, would be gone before they’d even gotten a chance to know it.  While the idea of being a mother was still new and foreign to her, the idea of losing that chance was terrible to think about. Her thoughts were interrupted by Tom’s voice again as she squeezed Paul’s hand comfortingly.</p><p>“How do we know that wasn’t all for show?” Tom reasoned, sounding softer since it was Becky who’d brought up Hidgens saving Emma’s life, “That...he let Emma nearly get killed and rushed in at the last second to make himself seem like a hero?”</p><p>Paul squeezed her hand again. From the corner of her vision, Emma could see Paul desperately trying to conceal some sort of distress at the idea. She ran her fingers comfortingly over his hands as she could almost feel his pulse increasing. God, she wanted nothing more for him to know that she was alright. For him to accept that they were in no immediate danger. That their child was still alive. Instead, she shot Tom a warning look as he continued on, praying that her stubborn brother-in-law would get the message.</p><p>“That he…” Tom trailed off as he saw Emma’s face, “Sorry, Emma…”</p><p>She merely nodded as Becky spoke up, trying to get the conversation back on track, “What about his scans? The ones that Dr. Abadi showed me on the day of the attack were...abnormal.”</p><p>Emma leaned forward, she hadn’t yet seen the alleged scans, but what she’d heard from Kamaria and Phillipa in passing  indicated that they were something like what she’d seen in her own scans when she’d been grappling at memories of Paul. She wished she didn’t remember the pain she’d been in during that time, but if Ted had been experiencing  a fragment of how much pain she’d been in…</p><p>She shook the thoughts away as John retrieved several photographic images from one of the files. </p><p>“These are the scans without Rodney’s filters,” He spoke as he passed around the photographs, handing the copy to Paul. Emma leaned over his shoulder to peer down at what looked relatively like normal CAT scans, “As you can see, they look perfectly normal...no structural damage nothing indicative of degenerative brain disorder. No structural damage to the brain, but when you look at the runs with Rodney’s filters…” </p><p>He produced a couple copies of the aforementioned from the files  and passed them to Emma. </p><p>As she glanced down at the copies of the scans, supposedly run through the software that could indicate the presence of the Black and White’s influence, she found her breath suddenly being taken away. </p><p>It looked as if someone had spilled near-black ink at the center of Ted’s brain. Shades of dark purple and colors that could have been mistaken for black had it not been for the actual black on the scans. The darkness seemed to fill her with anxiety that she couldn’t quantify. She stiffened as she thought of how much pain she’d been in. How hard it had been to process all of those dreams which had really been memories circulated through her mind. How much blood she’d wake up to find caking around her face after an episode and not knowing whether or not the next would be the last...the last thing she’d experience in her small and miserable life.                                                                                     </p><p>She glanced up at John, hating how shaky her voice was, “I’ve never seen these be so dark before…” </p><p>John nodded gravely, “It’s almost as if the Black and White itself is manifesting in his brain.” </p><p>“He started to scream like he was possessed or something when the box was brought up,” Tom nodded, “Dr. Abadi said that whatever’s going on in his head...it’s tearing his mind apart.” </p><p>“Which would explain the highly irrational behavior,” Xander nodded, “The reason why he’s acting the way he is…” </p><p>“But what about the accusations he’s making?” Paul asked, making Emma turn to him to see how pale he’d suddenly become, “I mean...they’re ridiculous, there’s no merit to them, so we have no reason to believe them….but…” </p><p>“He believes them,” John nodded, looking like he was deep in thought, “He clearly thinks that whatever it was that happened to him...was real.”</p><p>Emma shuddered at the thought of his ramblings. The man was clearly insane. The allegations that he’d been attacked...murdered, even...by her...actually, someone who was nothing like her, since the version of the person who’d attacked him was a robot. The idea of giving credence to anything that ted was saying was frankly absurd to her, but the longer she stared at the scans…</p><p>They were around the areas that she’d been affected by when she’d been remembering Paul. Back then, that had all seemed like a mistake. It had seemed like something that she’d imagined.  Some cruel trick of her own subconscious, making her life seem even more difficult than it had already been at the time. </p><p>Memory. </p><p>“But...these are the areas affected by memory,” she whispered, pointing to the ink splotches, “He has to have some degree of vivid memory, especially when it comes to this...even if it’s not real.” </p><p>John nodded slowly before taking a sip of his drink, “Xander had a theory about that.” </p><p>She looked to Xander, who nodded. For a moment, it seemed as though everything in the room was put on hold. A terse silence enveloping them as they all contemplated the information. For a moment, everyone turned to Xander who looked out of it. Like he wanted to offer the solution, but there was not any weight behind it. As if there was no way he could give them an answer that they’d like. In the silence, they could all see the weight behind it all. She decided to be the one to ask the uncomfortable question. </p><p>“What do you mean?” She asked, “What could make up for him believing an...an absurd story and yet...remembering it?”</p><p>Xander sighed uncomfortably before taking another long sip of his drink, “To be completely honest...I’m not entirely sure, but it’s an answer you guys aren’t going to like.”</p><p>“What other answer is there?” Tom muttered, a bitter chuckle in his voice, “Even the options and answers that are the best ones for us aren’t ones we like.” </p><p>“Still,” Xander muttered “This isn’t even one that gives us many answers.”</p><p>  Emma scoffed under her breath. Honestly, with all of this, it never felt like anything gave them answers. All it did was lead them on a path of mysticism and bullshit that nobody in the room was qualified to deal with.</p><p>Xander finished off his glass before inhaling and exhaling sharply.</p><p>“I think he’s in Nightmare Time...or some form of it.” </p><p>Everyone in the room went stiff again. They looked at one another, almost as if they were trying to find an answer. Something that would either negate or prove his theory, but all the words ran dry. </p><p>Nightmare Time. </p><p>The forest of a person’s mind that could have someone killed.  </p><p>If that were true...</p><p>“If…” she began, her voice strained as she contemplated the weight of Xander’s words, “If you think Nightmare Time had something to do with this, what do you think it’s showing him.” </p><p>“Showed,” Xander corrected her, “I think something about the Bastard’s Box, which still remains lost, showed him a little taste of Nightmare Time...what his worst nightmare was,  and now he’s paranoid in believing that it’s real.”</p><p>“But what if you're wrong?” Tom offered, “We still don’t know what the Bastard’s Box does, for all we know, that’s where he gained these delusions.” </p><p>“Besides,” Becky spoke clearly, “Why would his worst nightmare be getting murdered by some robot version of Emma?” </p><p>Emma would have been lying if she said her mind hadn’t had the same question running in the circles of her thought. Ted was a bit of a jerk and a sleaze, she was aware of that...but she knew there was no way he would ever be that creative to conceive a story where some robotic version of herself tried to murder him...and succeeded.</p><p>“See…” Tom held out a hand, “I don’t think that was his worst nightmare...but I do think it had something to do with it.”</p><p>John leaned forward, “What exactly did he tell you during your interrogation?” </p><p>Tom sighed, “Other than spouting the usual bullshit about Emma and Paul not being themselves, there was nothing concrete…” Tom swallowed hard, “But he mentioned that the Goat was his master...the bastard of time...or something like that…”</p><p>“Time?” Paul asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“Yes,” Tom nodded, “ He also said something about the Goat sending him back to someone called Jenny...that she was killed and someone ‘didn’t mean it’.”  </p><p> Time. Jenny. Fakes. </p><p>None of this bullshit made sense. </p><p>“What do you mean Time?” John leaned forward, “Does he think the box has some sort of...Time Travelling capabilities?”</p><p>Tom shook his head, “He didn’t let me ask about the box before he decided to start shrieking like a demon.” </p><p> “Scared of it.”</p><p>Everyone in the room turned to see Hannah, a board-game piece clutched in her hand, standing in the doorway to John and Xander’s small media room. Her eyes were wide and dark as she regarded them all and continued to speak, “Master trapped him there...threatened to put him back if he didn’t finish the mission.”</p><p>Becky swallowed hard and leaned in, “What mission?” </p><p>Hannah sighed, “Survival...but not his own...cruel trick. Tore his mind apart.”</p><p>She moved further into the room and locked eyes on Emma, “Nightmare Time gave him what he wanted and took it all away...tore his mind into pieces. Fighting another...not him...but is.”</p><p>Paul sighed and looked at the girl, “Hannah, what do you mean by that?” </p><p>“Not over,” she replied, her eyes widening, “Master has the box, but the rest is yet to come...soon.”</p><p>“How soon, Hannah?” John asked, standing from his seat, “What is the rest? How long do we have.” </p><p>She sighed guiltily and looked down, “Don’t know.”</p><p>Paul sighed slightly, a soft smile crossing his face as he got up and knelt down in front of Hannah, giving her enough space, “That’s okay, Han. You’ve been such a great help already.”</p><p>“Could do more,” she reasoned, her voice sounding like a guilty whisper, “Ted was the first of many...If I don’t know...not safe for the three of you.” </p><p>Her eyes traced over from Paul to Emma, and Emma could have sworn her heart stopped in her chest. </p><p>It had never crossed her mind that Hannah might already know that she was pregnant. </p><p>She felt stupid for not considering the possibility. Hannah was the most powerful psychic the word had ever seen. Without her, they would have likely been dead long before any of this had happened. Of course, she would have known that something was different. Hell, she probably knew Emma and Paul had conceited before they did. She tried not to think of this as Paul’s gaze softened.</p><p>“We’ll get there when we get there, Han,” he whispered, “But that is not your responsibility, okay?” </p><p>She managed a small nod as he went on. </p><p>“You’re helping us in all the ways you can,” he whispered gently, “And that’s more than enough, okay?” </p><p>“Okay,” she whispered, before turning around and walking back into the game room as Tim poked his head out, presumably to see where she had gone. </p><p>She turned her gaze on Paul, who stood softly, a small smile on his face. With as hilariously bad as he’d been with Tim when he’d first met him, it was amazing how wonderful he was with Hannah. Maybe it was the fact that they were already blood-related, or the fact that they had a lot in common, but as she watched him interact with those children, she knew he’d be an incredible father to theirs. Her hand softly trailed to her stomach as he sat back down again, leaning into her warmth as he got comfortable once again. </p><p>“What was that all about?” Tom asked, looking to Lex and Ethan for an explanation. </p><p>John sighed and leaned forward, “Whatever that meant, it couldn’t be good. We’re in no way out of the woods just yet,”</p><p>Emma sighed as she stiffened at the thought, Paul’s warm hand joining hers over her stomach. She knew how terrified he must have been. Just the day before he’d been hovering over her as if he was afraid of letting her out of his sight, now with the warnings they’d been receiving from every wall they hit, they couldn’t have been put at ease. </p><p>Xander, however, was just staring at Paul. </p><p>Before anyone could ask him what he was thinking, he spoke up. </p><p>“You know,” he said to Paul, taking a sip of his drink, “Emma can’t be a robot because a robot wouldn’t be able to give you the chance to use those amazing fathe...”</p><p>As he said the words, his eyes widened, suddenly realizing that he’d let the cat out of the bag. Emma felt Paul’s hand stiffen on her own as she too found herself praying that nobody noticed Xander’s accidental slip-up. She even caught John shooting a mock warning glare out of the corner of his eye. </p><p>“What does that mean?” Tom asked, sitting up. </p><p>As if on cue, the small sound of a kitchen timer suddenly summoned John aout of his chair, looking very uncharacteristically flustered as if he saw this as an opportunity to throw Tom off of their scent. </p><p>“Oh well...I guess that means dinner's ready,”  John uttered, his voice shaky and his green eyes wide as he scrambled towards the kitchen. Tom stood from his chair, looking very confused. </p><p>“Wait, what’s going on?” He turned to Xander, “What did you mean? His amazing...what?” </p><p>“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Xander tried to wave him off, “I’ve probably had too many of these.” He gestured haphazardly to his glass- when had he gone and refilled it?</p><p>“Xander, you can hold your gin better than anyone I know,” Tom deadpanned, using his face that Emma liked to call ‘no-bullshit lumberjack’, “Something’s going on, and I don’t like that you’re not telling me.”</p><p>Xander locked eyes with Emma, the apology very clear in his eyes as he and John both seemed as if they were at a loss for words. For a moment, Emma looked over at Becky pleadingly, almost as if she were begging the woman to do something, anything, that would throw her brother-in-law off, but she too seemed to be at a loss for words.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Lex and Ethan too, looked like they knew something was amiss. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Lex asked, “What are you guys not telling us?” </p><p>“Yeah…” Ethan whispered, looking fearful for a moment, “What is it?”</p><p>She inhaled and exhaled deeply. </p><p><em> Geez, they’d planned for it to be three months before they did this. </em> </p><p>“I’m pregnant!” she blurted out, suddenly terrified of the silence. </p><p>Almost instantly, the room was enveloped in silence. </p><p>Tom’s eyes widened almost instantly. A look she couldn’t understand crossing his face. He went pale, as if he’d been given news that his life was ending. Emma suddenly regretted her decision. She glanced up at Paul, expecting him to be angry with her, but instead she found a soft smile. He smiled gently at her and squeezed her hand, looking nervous, but smiling down at her as if  every time he heard the news he was filled with elation. She tore her gaze away from him to glance at Xander, nodding at him as if she was accepting his apology, smirking slightly at the open-mouthed gape he and John both wore. Becky, beside Tom, was smiling softly, while Ethan and Lex looked shocked beyond belief. </p><p>“We weren’t planning on telling you guys about it until three months passed,” she explained, her voice going rapid as she struggled to explain herself. Suddenly, she felt very uncharacteristically nervous, and she hated it, “W-we found out on the day of thea attack...and honestly Bekcy, John, and Xander are the only ones who knew..but we were going to tell you...and yeah...that’s-”</p><p>“What?” Ethan whispered, cutting her ramble off as a small smile breaking out across his face, “You’re serious?”</p><p>She nodded slightly with a nervous laugh, “Yep…”</p><p>“You’re not messing with us?” Lex chuckled, tears tugging at the corners of her eyes. </p><p>Paul shook his head, laughing a little bit himself, “Nope.”</p><p>Lex laughed and whistled lowly under her breath, “Damn! You guys didn’t waste any time, huh?” </p><p>Emma suddenly found herself cackling at this. Her nervousness surrounding the news suddenly melting away as she found everyone laughing at the remark. Paul pressed a kiss to her temple as she glanced at Tom, who was still frozen, a flurry of emotions dancing across her face. </p><p>“Tom?” she whispered, looking at the big man, “You okay?” </p><p>“It’s…” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he forced himself to look at her, “Is it true?”</p><p>She swallowed. She’d been fearing Tom’s reaction since she’d learned she’d be bringing a child into the world. She didn’t know how he would react, but at the very least, she’d hoped that he would share in her joy.</p><p>“Y-Yes…” she whispered, “Yeah…”</p><p>He let out a small noise that could have either been a chuckle or a sob, as tears filled the big man’s eyes, “You’re having a baby?” </p><p>She nodded, suddenly feeling tears fill her own eyes. </p><p>“<em> Oh my God… </em>” he choked out, tears filling her eyes as a small smile covered his face, making her heart suddenly feel full, “Jane would be s-so proud of you…”</p><p>She laughed tearfully, as tears ran down her cheeks. She’d been thinking of Jane a lot since she’d learned she was pregnant. Jane would have probably had everything figured out already. She would have probably known everything and planned it all out to a t. Emma, however, was left out in the sea of the unknown, its tide constantly threatening to sweep her and Paul out in its undertow. However, something about hearing Tom say Jane would be proud of her, made her want to cry harder...forgetting how crazy and unpredictable life had become. <br/><br/>She laughed tearfully as she glanced up at the burly man across forger, wiping tears from his eyes as Becky rubbed his back, laughing softly.</p><p>“I’m gonna be an Uncle,” He laughed to himself before turning to Paul, “Well done, man.” </p><p>Paul shrugged awkwardly, “Thanks…?”</p><p>“Dad?” a small voice interrupted the sea of emotion that was overtaking the room.</p><p>Everyone turned to see Tim standing in the doorway, his brown eyes wide as he looked scared. His inquisitive dark eyes scanned the room, looking worried as they fell on his crying father, “What’s wrong?” </p><p>Tom laughed and shook his head, “Nothing’s wrong, buddy…”</p><p>“Then why are you crying?” Tim approached his father cautiously, his eyes jumping from Paul and Emma back to Tom, “Becky, what’s wrong?” </p><p>Becy smiled sweetly, “Why don’t you ask you aunt Emma, sweetheart?” </p><p>“Aunt Emma?” Tim turned to her, looking very worried, “What’s the matter?” </p><p>Emma smiled,  keeping her voice as gentle as she could get it. She wanted this to be happy news for the boy, she didn’t want to give him any reason to worry, “Well...let’s just say you’re gonna have a little cousin in a few months…” </p><p>Tim looked confused for a moment, as if the words hadn’t fully registered with him. He wore a face of puzzlement for a solid minute, making Emma wish that someone was recording it. Finally, a look of recognition spread across the boy’s face and a bright grin broke out. </p><p>“Really?” He whispered, his voice filled with so much joy Emma thought she might melt, “You’re having a baby?” </p><p>She nodded and laughed, “Yeah, bud...which means you’ve got to be getting ready to be the best cousin ever. Got it?” </p><p>He nodded vehemently as he looked at Paul, “How’d that happen, anyway-”</p><p>“Eh, Tim,” Tom cut in, clearly too happy, or in shock, to have that conversation with his son, “We’ll tell you about that when you’re older, buddy.” </p><p>Tim nodded before smiling and laughing to himself, “I’m gonna be the best cousin ever,” he said determinedly to himself, “I’ll teach them how to play minecraft...if it's a boy or a girl. I'll be the best big cousin this world has ever seen- Hey Hannah! Guess what? I’m gonna be a big cousin?” </p><p>Emma laughed as Hannah emerged from the small media  room, a big, happy smile on her face as she clapped for Tim. Ethan sat up, he and Lex both laughing as Hannah wore an expression that seemed to scream, ‘I knew this before you did’.</p><p>“You’ve known all along!” Ethan said in a playfully accusatory tone, “Haven’t you, Banana?”</p><p>Hannah grinned mischievously and nodded. </p><p>“Why you rotten little-” Ethan laughed as he began to get up off the couch with a small smile, seemingly joining into the whirlwind of laughter and joy that the addition of the two kids, and the news of the baby had suddenly brought to their small family. Hannah squealed and ducked to avoid Ethan’s grasp, laughing maliciously as she and Tim began to run in excited circles across the living room, sending the adults into laughter. As Ethan chased both Hannah and Tim around, Becky and Lex began to ask her questions, Tom chiming in occasionally, none of them overwhelming her or Paul, but all of them seemingly so excited in a way that somehow made Emma feel more at ease. It wasn’t something she knew she could explain, but their excitement on the matter never made her feel like she was obligated to answer their questions, or was backed into a corner. No, she knew that they all cared. That they all were legitimately interested in her life. Not only that, they were asking questions that would better help her protect her child. In their eyes, she could see...Determination. Determination to help them through every step of the way. </p><p><br/>Emma knew that what knowledge they’d gained in this briefing, that being pregnant was not going to be easy. She knew that keeping herself and the baby alive was going to be difficult...but it also mattered to her that Paul and the others were safe, and she’d do anything to ensure that they were. Still, they couldn’t deny the impossibility of their circumstances. It wasn’t going to be easy to make sure she and her child, as well as Paul would be completely safe. She wanted to keep as many people safe as she could, and yet, she knew anything they could plan would go awry...and yet, here were people who already seemed so interested in helping her protect the two most important people in her life right now; Paul and the baby...In some ways she felt as if she didn’t deserve it.</p><p>She didn’t deserve to have this family who wanted to protect her. To offer her love she knew she’d never been given in her life before them. But these people loved her. They loved Paul...and already, they loved her child. </p><p>Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos they'd discussed throughout the night, Emma allowed all of the worry and fear to seep away. </p><p>They talked about what Phillipa had told them, telling them to keep everything under wraps until the three months was up, talking about plans and what they were going to do in order to keep all three of them safe, before John emerged from the kitchen after a few moments. </p><p>“How about we eat some dinner before we continue our celebrations?” John suggested, raising an eyebrow as something that smelled heavenly wafted through the kitchen entryway, making Emma’s stomach growl. She was technically eating for two now, right? So that had to make sense. She didn’t even care if that was a myth, all she knew was that she was famished and exhausted. </p><p>“Yes!” Lex cheered, hauling herself off of the couch, walking through the kitchen door,  “I don’t know what it is that you’ve made, but whatever it is, it smells so fucking good.”</p><p>“Language!” Becky chastised with a playful smile, standing so she might join everyone in the dining room. Ethan, Hannah, and Tim joined Becky at the kitchen sink, from what Emma could see and began to wash their hands. Tom stood up from his chair and after casting one last more wistful look of joy down at her and Paul, joined everyone in the kitchen. </p><p>Paul pressed another kiss to her forehead, “Well, so much for that secret, huh?” </p><p>“Eh,” she shrugged, “They’ll be cool.”</p><p>They sat there for a few more moments before Paul sighed and got up from his place on the couch, pulling her chair from its place against the wall.</p><p>She smiled up at him. It was strange  to her how every once in a while she was reminded that she was going to have a baby with them. A child. Someone new was coming into their adventure of a life and that someone was going to be half-him, half-her.  With any luck she’d get to see more of him in their baby than her, but still...God, the idea filled her with so much joy...and telling their family about it tonight had somehow made her feel more at ease.</p><p>She was going to have a baby with Paul Matthews. </p><p>They got to share a small human being that they created together. </p><p>A small baby who already had a  loving family waiting for them in an unforgiving world.</p><p>“Hey,” she said to him just before he helped her off the couch and into her chair.</p><p>“Hmm?” he looked down at her dotingly. </p><p>She tapped her lips gently and smiled at him, her hand going to her stomach as he leaned down to meet her lips. </p><p>She’d never get tired of the softness and gentleness of his lips. The soft way they met her own. Since they’d been together, she could never get enough of his kisses. Whether they were passionate or soft, or honestly, any variation of kisses that they could create, but she would never take them for granted. Just months before, she’d been so certain she’d never see him again...and now there they were...safe as they could be in times as dire as the ones they were living in. About to start a family of their own.</p><p>For whatever reason, at that moment, she wasn’t afraid.</p><p>They broke away to breath as she cupped his face. Revelling in his small giddy smile.</p><p>“We’ve got a pretty cool family here, don’t we?” she whispered against his lips, before meeting them again. </p><p>He laughed softly as they broke away once again. He nodded, his hand going to her stomach protectively, before looking over to the kitchen door, where she could hear the sounds of their small, albeit noisy family serving themselves some dinner. </p><p>“Damn straight we do.”</p><p>---</p><p>The aim of the game was waiting, she knew. </p><p>She hated waiting.</p><p>But she knew in this case that it was necessary. </p><p>Every step of her plan had been the product of millenia spent in the old and dark, yearning for the warmth of her siblings and a world she wanted nothing more than to burn.</p><p>While Tinky’s bastard puppet might have failed in killing Emma Perkins, he hadn’t failed overall. </p><p>Soon, they would execute the next step to their plan, and all would be theirs for the taking. She just needed to be patient. </p><p>And so, Webby waited.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While that briefing didn’t do much for them, hopefully they can start to put two and two together. </p><p>What is Webby planning???</p><p>Hopefully Paul and Emma can keep their child safe. </p><p>Also, found family rights.</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like to let me know what you think. I value your guys’ feedback greatly, and am grateful for you guys putting up with these really long chapters.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! Once again, I’m sorry for the late update and hope you enjoyed this one! Please stay safe and healthy, and treat yourself and others with kindness (unless the other person is being an asshole and not wearing a mask, then some tough love is allowed).</p><p>Thank you so much!!!</p><p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. There’ll Be Days When the Sun Won’t Shine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shit hits the fan; Part One</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So...a LOT happens here.<br/>The title for this one comes from the song “Bridges” by Alicia Badru.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Guns, needles, blood, Nightmare Time Spoilers, it gets real intense</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’d given them a week. One week of preparation. One week for them to believe that they’d had enough time before the next attack or the next phase of their plan would be enacted. It certainly helped, she knew, that they were all next to clueless. </p><p>There was no way they’d see any of this coming. </p><p>Of course, they wouldn’t be wiped out...and this next stage of the plan would only mean more waiting on the part of herself and her siblings, but plans like this one took a great deal of time. Every step was meticulously planned. </p><p>There was, of course, a problem in the fact that the spawn of Willabella Muckwab was no longer on her side. In fact, all three of the surviving descendents were among her greatest enemies, no matter how meager their might would be. She found it ironic that the descendents of one of her family’s most devoted followers now sought to defeat them more than anything. No matter. Their efforts would all be in vain once everything went according to plan. </p><p>Many would die today, she knew...but they wouldn’t be among them. </p><p>She had something much more...thrilling...planned for all of them. </p><p>Her siblings were anxious. They were, by no means, as patient as she was. In fact, if they had their way, they would have razed the world in its entirety as soon as they’d set foot on this earth. Their plans would have resulted in only a temporary win to be wiped out by the Black and White once they’d finish feasting on a world that they’d demanded would be theirs. No, her plan was much more long-term...and she knew it would be far more satisfying once they’d seen it through. </p><p>All that mattered was that they followed it. </p><p>Perfectly. </p><p>She turned to Bliklotep and T’Noy Karaxis, the two youngest. Both of them remained standing beside her, watching as the ruins of Hatchetfield continued to smolder and fall into ruin. </p><p>“Are your zealots ready?” she asked her cyclopean baby brother, his lemon-yellow eye with the lovely lilac iris trained suddenly to her. She could get lost in his eye any day. </p><p>He nodded, “When you are, sister.” </p><p>She turned to T’Noy Karaxis, “And your bastard?” </p><p>Her brother nodded eagerly, “At your command...he’d right on the edge…”</p><p>“And they’re set to question him again?” she asked, knowing that the man had become something of a mystery to the people she sought to destroy. With as much as Tinky had been manipulating him, she should be able to finally have Tinky’s vessel of choice at her disposal to enact her plan perfectly. </p><p>Tinky nodded, “If they ask the right questions, I can push him hard enough. His mind is broken enough already.”</p><p>She smiled and nodded, “Well done, brothers...Wiggly, Apatha, and Nibblenephim are in wait?” </p><p>Tinky nodded with a big grin, “They’re jealous too!” </p><p>Blinky rolled his eye, “Apatha’s just jealous because she wants to play with her favorite again! She says it’s been too long since she tormented him.” </p><p>Webby smiled softly and shook her head, “Well, Apatha’s just going to have to be patient. She’ll get her chance again...just not yet.”</p><p>Tinky groaned, “Why must we wait this long, Webby? Why can’t we just kill them and get it over with?”</p><p>“Because it’s much more fun this way, stupid!” Blinky snapped, “We have to wait our turns.”</p><p>“You’re just mad because you haven’t found a favorite yet,” Tinky mumbled. </p><p>“Boys,” Webby chided, “I know how anxious you are to begin...but you must realize...all good things come to those who wait.” She turned to Bliklotep, who looked like he was pouting, “You’ll find your favorite, soon enough. Okay?”</p><p>He didn’t seem convinced, she sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. She knew Blinky had the tendency to get pouty...especially when Tinky was being antagonistic. It also didn’t help that almost all of her siblings had found a favorite with the exception of Nibblenephim (who liked to claim he didn’t <em> need </em>a favorite). The fact that Blinky hadn’t found one yet had rendered him self-conscious. None of the followers her one-eyed brother had amassed satisfied him, and really, what he needed was someone who was on-par with the people that Apatha, Wiggly, and Tinky had already chosen. She smiled softly at her brother. </p><p>“Blinky...we’re just on one stepping stone, okay?” she whispered, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly, “We’ll be together forever if we follow my plan, alright?” </p><p>“Forever?” he looked up at her. </p><p>“Forever,” she affirmed, “We just need to be patient.”</p><p>“Okay,” he nodded, “But I’ll still have the park when this is all over?” </p><p>She smiled softly as she casted a glance at the dilapidated theme park that Blinky had laid claim to when they’d first overtaken Hatchetfield. Something about the place had drawn her baby brother to it...and for whatever reason, he rarely left. Of course, he liked watching his followers play around while they were in the park, some of his sniggles dancing around and performing. The tell-tale sign of their devotion to Blinky present in their purple eyes. She loved that he was fascinated with the place, and looked forward to watching him watch everything he could. </p><p>“Of course,” she smiled before turning back to Tinky, “Is the Emissary ready?” </p><p>Tinky nodded again, only this time, his blue eyes looked like they were filled with uncertainty, “Are you sure about the message? Are we sure we really need <em> her </em>help?” </p><p>Webby sighed, “Tinky...we’ve talked about this.”</p><p>“I know,” her brother groaned, “But she’s a <em> human… </em>”</p><p>“All of your favorites are human!” Blinky pointed out. </p><p>“Yeah…” Tinky mused, “But they’re <em> favorites… </em>”</p><p>She smiled at her brother’s lack of understanding, “Tinky, she has a common enemy with us...honestly, her help will give us less work to do...did you ever think about that?” </p><p>Tinky seemed to consider this, his eyes falling to the decay which characterized the ground before a spark of recognition appeared, “I guess…”</p><p>“Good,” she smiled, “Now, is everyone ready?” </p><p>At their small nods, she grinned wider.</p><p>“Well then,” she whispered, “You know what to do.” </p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date:  February 7th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p>   <br/>Hidgens peered through the microscope with precision, “Fascinating.”</p><p>His unwilling lab assistant groaned, “You gonna tell me what you’re seeing or are you just going to keep muttering about how ‘fascinating’ it is?”</p><p>He smiled slightly before moving back from the microscope to smile at Emma. </p><p>He knew she’d probably rather be working with anyone else than be here with him, but she was the only one who would ever be able to analyze Ted’s blood with as much precision as he. She had the brains and just as much encounters with the Black and White as he did, so there was nobody else he’d rather have analyze blood with him. Never mind, of course, that she didn’t trust him. </p><p>The assignment had been something of a surprise to him. The fact that nobody at PEIP trusted him completely had made the papers he'd received at his temporary desk seem mysterious, still the mission was clear; he and Emma would both take at least an hour out of their days to analyze the blood samples that would be sent in daily. </p><p>Supposedly, their mission entailed that they would find some anomalies within the blood that would indicate what exactly was happening to Mr. Spankoffski...the daft rogue that Hidgens had shot after seeing him attempt to murder Emma. </p><p>The mental image of that scene still made him sick. The sight of Emma, bruised, bleeding, pleading with a person who wore the face of a friend as he slammed her ruthlessly into the wall. He was still unsure of how he ended up in front of Emma’s office to begin with. The gun, of course, had been his own doing, since he wasn’t entirely sure he’d want to be caught unarmed in times such as these...but how he’d managed to get to the right place at the right time was beyond him. He’d told the men that he’d heard screaming, and that was what had gotten his attention trained on the attempted murder going on within Emma’s labs, but how he’d <em> gotten there... </em></p><p><em> “Protect her, Henry…” </em> Jane’s voice echoed in his ears, “ <em> Her, my son, Tom...and anyone that they hold dear. I’m giving you a chance at life….to make up for what was taken from you before your life had even begun...all I ask is that you make good on this. Let them have a chance at life...please.” </em></p><p>When he’d met Jane Perkins within the Black and White, he’d known that she was a  remarkable woman. He’d not known how anyone could survive walking through Nightmare Time without losing their soul completely. Of course, that went to say that they’d both had to leave a part of their souls behind, but once Emma and Paul had opened the pocket dimension, they’d been able to escape into that without the corrupted parts of their being, leaving those in the forest of Nightmares.   Jane hadn’t known what to make of him, at first...and he didn’t trust her, but as they both went on existing in the small domain of peace, they’d both realized that they had something in common. This was, of course, that they’d both been tangled in the webs of Webby’s plot since before either of them had been born, and the only way for them to even think about stopping the Lords in Black had relied solely on helping the people they cared about that were still alive.</p><p>Jane had allowed him to be the one to return to life. Because of that, he’d made her a promise. If that was the reason why he’d conveniently shown up at the right time to save Emma’s life, he wouldn’t know. All he knew was that he swore an oath to Jane Perkins to protect her family and he would make good on it. </p><p>Then there was the mystery of his summonings. He couldn’t remember much of what he and Jane had planned, but he was fairly certain that he’d been summoned too early. No matter, he was here now and he would do his best to earn the trust that his doppleganger had lost.</p><p>The fact that something had stolen his body...all of those years ago and had done all of the horrific things he’d heard about...it was beyond terrifying. </p><p>While his scientific mind would have suggested that it was fascinating, that it was something he would study and get to the bottom of, sense told him that such an abomination deserved to remain buried.</p><p>He smiled softly at Emma and moved back from the microscope, “Have a look for yourself.”</p><p>She eyed him suspiciously, “No thanks. Put it on the monitor.”</p><p>He couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. Not after all of the things the demon wearing his skin had done. After all, the demon had lived lifetimes that Henry had only begun to dream of. The demon wearing his skin had seen the <em> Apotheosis </em> for heaven’s sake, and viewed it in a way that Hidgens himself would have done, but the madness. The presence of that alone was enough to beg the question; did it come from Hidgens or had it come from the Black and white.</p><p>As he attached the microscope to the monitor, booting them both up, he considered this. </p><p>Was he a madman? </p><p>As a child, he’d liked the idea of being a mad scientist. Not in the sense that he’d create abominations beyond man’s respect, but the idea of the <em> discovery. </em> The idea of figuring out the secrets of the universe beyond man’s understanding was something he’d wanted for himself since before he’d become interested in science itself. Now that they were living in a world of complete and total madness, he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. </p><p>Once the monitor was booted up and the appropriate connections were made, he gestured to the image of the blood cells they’d been analyzing.</p><p>“What is your friend’s blood type?” he asked. </p><p>“You already said that it was AB negative,” came the tired response, “And he isn’t my friend. I thought the attack would have proven that.”</p><p>He took note of how exhausted Emma looked then. She was wearing her prosthetic again, having gotten a more formidable one from Xander after Ted had severely damaged the other one. Her dark eyes were underlined with dark circles, making her appear as though she had more in common with a raccoon than a human being. Clearly, now was not the time for his usual enthusiasm. </p><p>“Yes,” he nodded, “But that was last week.” </p><p>Emma sighed, “I’m fairly sure that blood type doesn’t change over the span of a week, Hidgens.”</p><p>“Yes, you are correct,” he nodded, “But why is there an immune response present in his blood when we’ve already determined that he’s perfectly healthy?”</p><p>“Perfectly healthy?” Emma scoffed, “You shot him in the shoulder a little over a week ago!” </p><p>“Yes, but Dr. Abadi has granted him a clean bill of health since then!” he exclaimed, “He’s shown no signs of a viral or bacterial infection...so why are there some signs of an immune response?” </p><p>Emma sighed again, running a hand through the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her messy bun, “I don’t know…” she bit down on her lower lip, “I mean...we could run another viral screening-”</p><p>“We could,” he reasoned, “But I don’t think it would come up with anything.” </p><p>She frowned, “Why what are you thinking?” </p><p>He flashed her a small grin before looking back at the cells as they appeared on the scream, “See those?”</p><p>He gestured to the small circular images between the red blood cells. Under the microscope, they looked as though they’d been stained purple...but something that had caught his attention were even smaller particles that looked like they were a vibrant shade of yellow...barely noticeable.</p><p>Emma nodded, looking thoroughly done with everything, “Yeah...the platelets. Right?” </p><p>He nodded, “Yes, but do you also see those small yellow things?” </p><p>He pointed a bony finger at the screen, where the near-invisible circles had clumped between the platelets and the red blood cells. At first, she looked like she was done with his theatrics, but as she stole a second glance at the screen, her brow furrowed in confusion.</p><p>“What the hell?” she breathed, “What are they?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he grinned excitedly, “But I’ve got a theory.”</p><p>Emma leaned back on her stool, “What kind of theory?” </p><p>Henry took note of the way she was uncomfortably fiddling with the area on her leg where the socket for her prosthetic was attached to her residual limb. He gathered that she was sore or uncomfortable, which definitely wouldn’t have improved her mood in the slightest.</p><p>“One that you’ll probably think is bullshit,” he deadpanned, “But it’s what I’ve got so far.”</p><p>She shrugged tiredly, “At this point, I’m willing to listen to anything.”</p><p>He clapped his hands together quickly before pointing back at the screen, “I’m gonna see if I can run another blood type screening.” </p><p>She raised an eyebrow, “What for?”</p><p> He sat back on a stool before smiling at her, “I think that whatever these yellow buggers are…” he paused dramatically for effect, “I think they changed his blood type.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence before she blinked, a look of undeniable doneness covering her face.</p><p>“Now…” he began, “I know what you’re going to say-”</p><p>“Bullshit,” she deadpanned. </p><p>Well, that was a <em> variant </em> of what he thought she was going to say. Maybe a lot less harsh, but it was still fitting with the message.</p><p>“What do you have to support this?” she demanded, reminding him of Gillian Anderson on <em> The X-Files </em>, “If he had a different blood type, wouldn’t that kill him?’</p><p>“I know,” he reasoned, holding up a hand to try and stop her questions for a moment, “But hear me out…”</p><p>“Whatever explanation you can offer,” Emma sighed “It better be good.” </p><p>“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he began, “But first and foremost, we have no idea what these yellow things are….”</p><p>“So you immediately divert to a change in blood type?” she asked incredulously.</p><p>“I never said a change,” he began, “I think he’s got two at once.” </p><p>There was another moment of silence before she blinked, looking almost cartoonish in the way she regarded him. </p><p>“How…” she began, ushering him on. </p><p>“I’ll need to find a way to isolate the two blood types,” he began, “But I think that whatever these yellow things, I think they’re keeping the two blood types from becoming deadly in reaction to one another, while having the two types remain separate.” </p><p>“Okay,” Emma held out a hand, “Suppose that you’re right...let's say he does have two blood types at once- and I hope you realize how stupid that sounds, because it sounds ridiculous- where is the how and why? Why would he have two blood types… and how would this happen?”</p><p>Hidgens shrugged, “I mean, we don’t know what that box did to him...who knows what the purpose of it is. All I know is he has a strange component in his blood that wasn’t there before so it’s a working theory.”</p><p>Emma sighed and twirled a loose strand of hair around her fingers, “And that's the best we have so far?” </p><p>“I know it’s not the most scientifically feasible,” he shrugged, “But yes.”</p><p>There was another moment of silence before they both burst out laughing. </p><p>“How the fuck did we get here?” Emma laughed, “What the hell is all of this?”</p><p>“Hell if I know,” Hidgens shrugged, “At this point I think anything’s game.”</p><p>Emma shook his head, almost like she trusted him again. Almost as if he truly were the same professor that she’d brought groceries to when he’d been in a rough place. He’d watched from the Black and White, from Nightmare Time, from the pocket dimension, how Emma had befriended the demon in his skin. While he’d never gotten to know her personally, the friendship they’d seemed to have was something he longed for. </p><p>Maybe this time he’d have a chance at that. </p><p>“You’re crazy, old man,” she breathed, before her eyes glanced up at the clock on the wall, “Shit. I’m late.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow as she shakily stood and began to gather her things, “Physical therapy again?” </p><p>She shrugged, “Something like that…” she threw her lab coat onto the hook by the door and threw her small bag over her shoulder, “You run those blood type test things and I’ll see if I can analyze the morphological traits of those yellow things when I get back. If you need anyone else for it, find Callie Watson, she’s real good with this sort of thing.”</p><p>He shrugged, “Thanks...have fun at physical therapy.”</p><p>She groaned and rolled her eyes, before reaching for the door handle and pausing, “Hey…”</p><p>“Hmm?” He looked up and saw a look of hesitancy on her face, “What is it?”</p><p>She froze, looking like she was wrestling with something, almost as if she felt like she shouldn’t say it, but if she didn’t, it would bother hers</p><p>“I never…” she mumbled begrudgingly, “I never...thanked you.”</p><p>Okay, now he was confused.</p><p>“Thanked me?” He asked, “What on earth for?”</p><p>She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the room, settling on anything except for him, “For,” she began...her voice cracking slightly, “For saving my life…”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>He sighed, “Um...Emma, I-”</p><p>“Look,” she cut him off, “I still don’t know if I can trust you. Hell, I don’t even know who or what you are...I don’t know if you’re Henry Hidgens or something that’s supposed to torment us all...Fuck, I don’t know…”</p><p>He suddenly felt guilty. Though he was, by no means, responsible for the actions of his demonic doppelgänger, he could see from the pain in her eyes that it hadn’t been good.</p><p>She trailed off, looking down, “But I <em> want </em> to trust you.”</p><p>He was taken aback by the statement. Honestly, she could have told him to go to hell and he wouldn’t have been surprised...or protested, for that matter- Especially not after what the dastardly villain that had worn his face most cruelly had done to her, to Paul, to people that she loved more than anything in the world.</p><p>But this…</p><p>She wanted to trust him. He couldn’t think of any way that he’d given her a good reason to do so. After all, he’d given them less information than they needed, not that he could provide any more than he’d already given. If anything, the fact that he’d been allowed to even work in her presence was a stretch given the things his body had done.</p><p>“Emma…” he began, unsure of what to say.</p><p>She shook her head, “I’ll see you around, Hidgens.”</p><p>With that, she was gone.</p><p>He looked back down at his work, trying to focus on the biological entities which seemed to dance on the monitor, unable to focus like he said he would. </p><p>He gathered the objects necessitated for the blood typing. Perhaps he’d be able to determine whether or not his theory had any weight to it, but his mind kept going back to Emma. </p><p>He knew that whatever it was that the person masquerading as him had done, it had clearly left it’s scars...and yet, he knew he wasn’t going to earn their trust easily. Not when he was himself. The memories of that would never fade. Still, it didn't stop him from hoping that he’d earn her trust. From what he’d seen Emma and he had formed an odd sort of companionship. She was biting, smart, talented, and despite having an artistic and adventurous brain, she seemed to have a knack for the natural sciences. No wonder she excelled as a student in biology. No wonder she excelled as <em> his </em> student, in a sense. Though the false version of himself had decimated any chance of her trusting him completely, he would have liked to experience that kind of comradery. </p><p>Besides, he owed it to Jane to keep an eye on her.</p><p>He must have been distractedly working for about half an hour when he popped his neck to the side, relieving some of the tension that had built up rather quickly in his old bones.</p><p>It was strange, he felt, that he should die at such a young age, have his body live out the years and experiences of getting old, only to return to life feeling as old as he did. Hell, he’d never been able to see all of the years he’d wanted to live, and still the wisdom that came with those years was still present. He would have liked to enjoy the sensation of growing older...but give the state of Hatchetfield, he supposed not growing old could have been a mercy.</p><p>A slight chill ran up his spine, snatching him from  his thoughts. Suddenly, he got the sensation that he wasn’t alone. </p><p>He whirled around to face the door and found that he was still very much alone, but suddenly the presence of anxiety hadn’t left him. After surveying the room carefully, he sighed and turned back to his work, when he was met by a sight that immediately set him on edge. </p><p>Where there had once been a microscope and the samples he and Emma had been analyzing, there was a pump-action shotgun.</p><p>His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out, his fingers brushing gently agsint the barrel. </p><p>What on- </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>BEEP! BEEP!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The loud blaring of an alarm made him jump to his feet as the flashing of red lights signified that something had gone terribly wrong. Before he had time to question what had happened, he’d grabbed the gun as if it was on instinct. The sound of the automated vocal warning sent chills up his spine and he straightened, listening to the urgent message that was conveyed.</p><p> </p><p><b>  </b> <b> <em>Code Red. Code Red. All civilians report to their designated emergency area. All personnel into positions. This is not a drill. Code Red. Code Red. All civilians report to their designated emergency area. All personnel into positions. This is not a drill.</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>He glanced down at the gun in his hands, sighing deeply as he peered down at his weapon. As the loud blaring of the alarm, and the sound of other panicking medical and scientific personnel echoed through the hallways, he checked to make sure the gun was loaded. If it was a code red, it meant that something had gotten into the base that wasn’t supposed to, and judging from the calamitous sounds just outside his door, PEIP was going to be faced with the fight for their lives.</p><p>He sighed again as the sound of Jane’s voice echoed in his ears. </p><p><em> “Protect them, Henry.” </em> </p><p>Protect them he would. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>    He had no idea how much time had passed. </p><p>    The  burlier man had asked him questions that the Master hadn’t liked. And for that, he’d been punished. The burlier man had told the man his name...hadn’t he? It didn’t matter. The man didn’t care. Names were of no consequence, unless the name belonged to Paul, Emma, or Jenny. </p><p>The man was weak. His mind was filled with screams that were his and his alone, and yet, it was a version of himself that he was unsure of. The pain in his arm had mercifully gone down, but the torment of the Master didn’t cease.</p><p>The woman in the lab coat had been pumping his veins full of something that made him feel tired, but she couldn’t understand. She would never be able to understand the pain he was in. It wasn’t something she would ever be able to cure. He needed to struggle, he needed to fight. He needed to run. </p><p>The Master would take him again. </p><p>
  <em> The Master would be kind if he finished his mission.  </em>
</p><p>The Master would make him suffer. </p><p>
  <em> Suffering was good. </em>
</p><p>He needed to escape. </p><p>
  <em> The suffering would help him learn.  </em>
</p><p>He needed to get out. </p><p>
  <em> There was no escape. </em>
</p><p>This was his body. </p><p>
  <em> His body was at the whim of his Master. </em>
</p><p>He knew who he was...right?</p><p>He was…</p><p>His name was…</p><p>
  <em> He never had a name.  </em>
</p><p>But the man...the burly one...he’d said his name was...something…</p><p>
  <em> Nothing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He never had a name.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t deserve one. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And if he had once had a name...the Master had taken it away.  </em>
</p><p>It started with a….a letter...right? All names started with a letter...but which one was it? </p><p>He could picture it in his mind...it looked like a support beam of a house, holding a  roof up...or a pillar under a bridge...maybe it reminded him of that religious symbol...the one that would be hanging on the doors of those big buildings...the nice buildings with people singing or lighting candles. Didn’t someone he used to know attend services there? </p><p>
  <em> It didn’t matter.  </em>
</p><p>T...</p><p>That was the first letter of his name. </p><p>It was a simple name, right? A shortened version of something that might have once sounded dignified, but only got him teased in elementary and middle school. </p><p>He had many nicknames, though….hadn’t he?</p><p>The image of a redhead appeared in his mind. The woman who bore one of the three names he could remember. </p><p>Jenny. </p><p>Jenny...she said his name a lot, right? She had a nickname for him. One that sounded so affectionate. Maybe it was something that sounded childish when said by anybody else...chilling when the Master used it….but when she said it...it sounded endearing. </p><p>
  <em> The pain in her eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The way she whispered his name.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The way she’d vanished into dust before his eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could never take it back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  The Goat howled in laughter in his ears. </em>
</p><p>His name had been the last thing she’d ever said. </p><p>He <em> no </em> longer <em> had </em> a <em> name </em>. </p><p>The woman in the lab coat must have taken him off of the medicines that were keeping the pain and soreness at bay, allowing consciousness to stem back at him. In some ways he felt like something was poking holes in the barrier that blissfully left his mind in a fog, allowing the screaming to lower in volume...now becoming less of a curtain and more of a net.</p><p>A new man was there. He had dark skin and inquisitive eyes, he spoke softly to the woman in the lab coat, their eyes tracing over his weak form. He felt as though the Master would get angry with him if they looked at him any longer. The Master wouldn’t like their questions. The Master would punish him for it. He hadn’t liked the questions the burlier man from before...whose name was suddenly escaping him...making him be filled to the brim with pain. Maybe they’d ask about the box again (<em> Oh please, God, no!) </em>. Maybe the Master would punish him for even hearing the question asked. The mere thought of it was enough to make him want to struggle, but his limbs felt as though they’d been made of lead. Either that, or the woman in the lab coat had been smart enough to not lower the dosage of drugs that had kept him from rising to consciousness. </p><p>
  <em> They wanted something from him.  </em>
</p><p>But what?</p><p>
  <em> What he knew of the Master, no doubt.  </em>
</p><p>But what did he know of the Master? </p><p>
  <em> He knew enough.  </em>
</p><p>He knew that he was the Master’s captive...that much was true.</p><p>
  <em> He knew that the Master would punish him for answering the questions.  </em>
</p><p>He knew these people might be able to help him. </p><p>
  <em> These people were his enemy.  </em>
</p><p>“Mr. Spankoffski,” the new man spoke softly as he sat in the very same chair the burlier man had sat in earlier...had that been hours ago? Days? Weeks? However long it was, it didn’t matter, “My name is Major Xander Lee….I’m the head of the science division.” </p><p>This meant nothing to the man.</p><p>“I’m here to ask you a few questions, okay?” </p><p>
  <em> Oh no. </em>
</p><p>“No questions,” The man whimpered, “No more...no more.”  </p><p>“We’re just trying to find out how we can best help you, sir,” The man said, not moved emotionally by the man’s pleas, “We need to ask you these questions.”</p><p>“Can’t answer them, the man whispered, “Won’t answer them.” </p><p>“And why is that?” The man asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“The-” the man whispered, hating the way his head already hurt, “The mast-”</p><p>
  <em> Oh…this man was smart.  </em>
</p><p>“You can’t trick me!” he suddenly shouted, not even eliciting a flinch out of the man, who stared down at him as if he were studying the most interesting of specimens, “You can’t get anything out of me!”</p><p>“Okay,” the man nodded. Damn him for remaining so calm, “I won’t ask you about your master.”</p><p>The man allowed himself a small sigh of relief for only a few seconds before the man continued to speak. </p><p>“I’ll ask you about Jenny, instead.”</p><p>The man felt his heart leap in his chest at the mention of the name. </p><p>
  <em> Feign ignorance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Names didn’t matter.  </em>
</p><p>Jenny’s did. </p><p>“J-Jenny?” he asked, his voice shaky, unable to understand how the man had learned that name, to begin with.</p><p>Her face appeared in his mind again. </p><p>Pale skin. Fiery red hair which she dyed often. Green eyes that seemed like they could always tell what you were thinking. A gentle but blunt personality with a small amount of troublemaking, which had been the first thing to endear her to him to begin with. She was lovely, and sweet, almost indie in the way that she dressed and treated the world around her...if that made sense. She was-</p><p>
  <em> Dead.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jenny was dead. </em>
</p><p><em> It was his fault. </em> </p><p>“Who is Jenny, Mr. Spankoffski?” The man asked again, oblivious to the weight the name bore.</p><p>“Jenny…” he whispered. </p><p>The man nodded, looking concerned, “Captain Houston said that you mentioned someone named Jenny in the past meeting...Do you remember mentioning Jenny to someone else?” </p><p>The man managed a small nod. He thought about Jenny a lot when he wasn’t terrified of the screaming and the laughing that echoed in his mind.</p><p>
  <em> She’d been in so much pain. So terrified. Nobody would ever find the body of Jenny Wilkinson. Not when she’d crumbled to dust before his own eyes.  </em>
</p><p>“Jenny…” he whispered again, tears welling in his eyes. </p><p>“Who’s Jenny, Ted?” the man leaned forward, making Ted’s heart beat faster.</p><p>
  <em> Ted! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That was his name! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had a name! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wasn’t…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>YOu HaVE nO NAMe, TeDDY BeaR!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest as his eyes snapped to the space behind the man interviewing him. </p><p>He smelled the Master before he saw him. </p><p>Almost instantly, his hairs stood on end as he smelled the damp and putrid scent which made every cell in his body acknowledge that the Master was with them. The Master was here. </p><p>He allowed a small whimper to slip past his lips as he glanced up and saw the figure of the Master, standing behind the man interviewing him. Wearing the same rotting, tattered robes as flies seemed to circulate the imposing figure.</p><p>The Master. </p><p>He was here. </p><p>
  <em> He was going to suffer.  </em>
</p><p>He made no sound as the neon blue eyes snapped to him, the demented smile of the Master sending shivers through the man’s body.  </p><p>“Mr. Spankoffski?” The interview man didn’t know how much danger they were in. How could he? He had no idea what they were dealing with. If he did, he wouldn’t be in here questioning the man, “Mr. Spankoffski, are you okay?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>AnSwER hIM, TeDDY</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The man whimpered as the creature that evidently nobody else could see laughed. It’s howling laughter tearing through his ears. Of course, nobody else could see him, not right now. But should he tell the interview man that they were in danger, surely the Master would punish him!</p><p>“N...no…” he whispered, shaking his head, before his breath was taken away by a burst of pain that wrought through his body. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>WroNG AnSWER</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“I mean…” the man panted through the pain, “I mean...yes...Y-yes…”</p><p>The man raised an eyebrow again, “Okay…? Why don’t you tell me about Jenny, then?”</p><p>The man’s eyes darted to the Master, still looming in the shadows behind the interview man, the glassy eyes still trained clearly on him. He didn’t dare make a noise, for fear that the Master would be angered once again...and punish him. </p><p>“Jenny…” he whispered, before he could stop himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>YES!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He jumped at the Master’s sudden shout, overtaken by a chorus of cackling, He flinched and could hear the interview man asking him if he was alright. It didn’t matter. Not when the Master continued to speak. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>TeLL hIm AbOUt JeNnY, TeDDy! TeLl hIM aBouT yOuR FaILUre!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“No...No…!” he whimpered. </p><p>“Mr. Spankoffski,” The interview man was saying, “Please stay calm-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>TEll HiM How YoU FuCKin’ MuRDeRED her</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“No…” Ted whimpered, “Please...</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>HoW You FAiLED</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Please…” he whispered pathetically, tears dripping down his face, “Please stop…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Oh, C’mON, TeD-DY...YoU OwE JeNNY thAT! YoU OwE ME thAT!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“No...No!” he thrashed against the pain that was burgeoning in his brain.</p><p>“What’s happening, Kamaria?” The interview man was saying to the woman in the lab coat, his words sounding more like whispers in comparison to the  laughter and howling that the Master seemed to be playing directly in his ears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>YOU BELONG TO ME!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“NO!” Ted howled, thrashing against the restraints holding him down to the bed. </p><p>“Someone sedate him!” The woman in the lab coat ordered, sending the nurses and orderlies into a frenzy. The interview man remained calm, the only form of concern he woe was buried deep in his eyes. He needed to know. Something wasn’t right. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>You belong to us. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>A chill had settled over the room, making him feel like his heart was going to burst through the cavity of his chest. Death would be welcome now. </p><p>He dared to glance back up where his Master was standing, and sure enough found the much taller figure of a thin, bony woman standing beside him. Unearthly and ethereal in appearance, her multiple red eyes scanned over him, contrasting greatly against the pallor of her skin. Though her face was almost entirely covered by a veil made of spider webs, just like the material of her dress, the man could make out the details of her face. All of her stunning and terrifying beauty striking fear deep into his heart.</p><p>The Master’s sister. </p><p>Everyone knew she was far more powerful than the Master, and judging from the way he was being regarded by her, he was going to witness it firsthand. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Your mission is incomplete.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Though her lips were unmoving, her voice thundered in his head. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut as she continued to speak. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Would you like to complete it?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to complete his mission.</p><p>
  <em> They’d kill him if he didn’t.  </em>
</p><p>These people could help him. </p><p>
  <em> There was nothing these people could do for him.  </em>
</p><p>They were fighting against the forces of the Black and White. </p><p>
  <em> They knew nothing about what was happening.  </em>
</p><p>They were so close...they could do it.</p><p>
  <em> These people would allow him to live if he followed their orders.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It didn’t matter what loyalties he might have once had to these people.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He needed to survive.  </em>
</p><p>Behind the interview man, he could see the woman, known as the spider, smile behind him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Wouldn’t you like to be free?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Something about her voice was so soothing...so comforting in the way it echoed in his mind...like a lullaby.</p><p>He nodded slowly, somehow the sedative that the nurse was placing in his IV not affecting him in any way. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>We can help you, Ted.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Spankoffski,” The interview man sounded like he was under water as shades of light blue began to tug away at his vision, “What’s happening to him?”</p><p>“I-I don’t know,” the woman in the lab coat was saying. </p><p>Behind them, the woman extended her arms out for them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Wouldn’t you like the pain to stop?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…” he whispered, the idea seeming too good to be true. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Wouldn’t you like to avenge Jenny?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…” he whispered again, tears pouring from his eyes as yellow and blue danced in his vision, “Y-Yes, please…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Wouldn’t you like us to help you?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>(No! No he didn’t)</p><p><em> “Yes...Yes!” </em> He sobbed, “ <em> Please...make it stop…” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Then let us help you finish your mission.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the woman and the Master were gone. </p><p>Before he could cry out at the loss of her soothing voice and it’s almost hypnotic qualities, the lights began to flicker on and off and a chill settled over the room. </p><p>“I thought we had the lights down here fixed,” The interview man said calmly, his hand falling to a weapon strapped to his side. </p><p>“We did,” the woman in the lab coat spoke softly, her eyes tracing over the man. </p><p>Again and again the lights flickered, making his heart pound in his chest. </p><p>“Secure the patient,” the interview man spoke clearly, his eyes betraying a sense of unease, “Something isn’t right.” </p><p>“Yeah, no shit,” the woman in the lab coat laughed, before signalling to the other nurses to tighten the man’s restraints. Once again, the lights flickered, before suddenly turning off completely. </p><p>“What the hell?” the woman in the lab coat’s voice echoed throughout the darkness of the room. </p><p>Suddenly, for no reason at all, the man began to chuckle. </p><p>It started off as a small giggle, before it quickly grew into something of a howling laugh. This was his Master’s doing! They’d help him! They’d free him!</p><p>“What’s so funny?” The interview man looked down at him, the blue emergency lights highlighting the soft angles of his face. </p><p>The man kept laughing. </p><p>“Is this normal, Abadi?” he asked the woman in the lab coat. </p><p>“No,” the woman sounded worried, “No...if he’s not screaming or talking about how Emma and Paul aren’t themselves, that’s abnormal.”</p><p>He continued to laugh, even as the interview man got closer to his face. </p><p>“Mr. Spankoffski,” he said, his voice desperately remaining calm,  “What’s the matter.”</p><p>“No...Mr…” he slurred, shaking his head between laughs, “I don’t have a name…”</p><p>“Do you know what this is?” he gestured to the emergency lights, “Are the Lords in Blac-”</p><p>    Before the man could finish his sentence a loud alarm began to echo throughout the room, making everyone except for the captive man flinch. </p><p> </p><p>    <b> <em>BEEP BEEP</em> </b></p><p><b>  </b> <b> <em>Code Red. Code Red. All civilians report to their designated emergency area. All personnel into positions. This is not a drill. Code Red. Code Red. All civilians report to their designated emergency area. All personnel into positions. This is not a drill. Code Red-</em> </b></p><p> </p><p><b>  </b>Even over the screech of the alarms and announcements, the man could hear the interview man curse. </p><p>    “It’s a damn containment breach!” one of the nurses shouted in fear. For whatever reason, the sound of the fear and pain on the person’s voice was enough to make the man smile.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Let us give you strength.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He smiled as the soothing sound of the woman’s voice echoed in his mind. </p><p>“I accept,” he whispered, suddenly feeling as though his mind was clearer and stronger than it had ever been before.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Wonderful.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, he felt a burst of energy surge through his body, soothing all of the pain and desolation that he’d been experiencing. Suddenly everything was painted in shades of yellow, orange and blue. </p><p>“What’s happening to him, Abadi?” the interview man surged up from his chair and joined the other nurses in holding him down- how long had he been thrashing.</p><p>“I don’t know!” the lab-coat lady was shouting.</p><p>There were so many hands on him, trying to hold him down. Trying to hold back the power of the Lords in Black. The Lord’s whose very power was now running through his veins. He could feel someone thrusting a needle or something into his neck, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care less what they were shouting at one another.</p><p>“<em> Get off of me!” </em>He growled, before throwing his hands up, and with a burst of energy, throwing them all back against the far door. </p><p>In an instant, the restraints keeping him pinned to the scratchy bed  snapped as if they had been made of dental floss rather than something formidable. He inspected his hands through the lens of blue and yellow, before looking at the people who’d landed strangely against the wall. The interview man was shouting something into his transponder, his brow bleeding, the other medical personnel were all in different states of injury...one was still as death while the lab coat lady’s brow was furrowed, passed out.</p><p>He rose from his place on the bed, inspecting his arms as he walked towards the door. Suddenly, he knew exactly what it was that he had to do. With a wave of his hand, the doors that had kept all of them locked in blew away as if they’d been made of paper. </p><p>Quickly and efficiently, he paced out of the door, not caring as the cool air brushed against the areas of exposed skin that were covered by the paper-like fabric of  his infirmary gown. He cared nothing for the roughness and raw wounds left on his wrists by the uncomfortable restraints he’d been tied down with. He cared nothing for the sounds of the screams and calamity as it made its way throughout the base. He could sense the Brother, the Watcher’s forces making their way through the base, their mission only to wreak havoc and distract from the true step their Spider sister had laid out for them to follow. </p><p>He could hear the master commanding him to take action. To do what he needed to do, and almost instantly, he found himself holding seven similar trinkets in his hand. </p><p>He glanced down at them, almost instantly knowing what each small vial, with a small needle on the end- resembling a swordfish- was meant for. The purple and red liquid that swirled within held the key to their success. All that was left was now to deliver it to the right points. </p><p>These pressure points, as the Master explained without explaining to him, would be the key to making his pain go away. If he just did what the Master said...the pain would stop. </p><p>The pain would go away. </p><p>He believed them. </p><p>And so, as the lights flashed red in the darkness, the vessel of T’Noy Karaxis, The Time Bastard, The man who couldn’t recall his own name, but could remember death as if he’d only just experienced it, set out to do his Master’s bidding. </p><p>And his Master was pleased.</p><p>---</p><p>“What the hell happened?” Tom shouted, loading his small handgun as he ran throughout the hallways, following Rodney’s lead as they ran past screaming and panicking people grappling to get to their appropriate refuge centers. </p><p>“I don’t know!” Rodney shouted, “This just came out of nowhere!” </p><p>Tom cursed under his breath. When the power had gone out, he’d thought it was just another problem with their renewable generators, one of Xander’s own designs. He’d not thought it should be any cause for alarm or panic of any kind...they’d get it up and running again. Of course, that was before the sirens and alarms had begun. Being the head of the operations department, he was responsible to make sure that whatever threat they were facing was neutralized. It was his job to keep a cool head during the whole of all calamity they should face. But normally, they would have some form of warning, some indication that something was about to go horribly wrong. </p><p>It was a code red. </p><p>A code red meant that something they’d been trying to keep out had gotten in. And it posed a bigger threat than they realized. </p><p>The threat had come out of nowhere. Judging from what little intel they were able to gather before a response was ordered from John. The sensors indicated that the break-in had come from a water-supply junction down near the engineering and science division, since a small facet of Xander’s team oversaw a facet of sustainability of both agriculture and water sources. While the security footage hadn’t been at it’s best, it was clear that they were being attacked by people who looked like they belonged in a  carnival...which was rather strange to Tom. Honestly, however, the world was already so weird and messed up that nothing would ever surprise him.</p><p>So, there they were. Every operative he could scrounge up within the few minutes since the alert had been signalled had quickly gotten into their gear and had stuffed themselves into the large elevator, getting down to the sublevels where the break-in had been detected. All of them prepared to face the forces of evil that hadn’t so much as lifted a physical finger towards them.</p><p>It was a mercy to his conscience, of course, that Tim was somewhere safe. Accordingly, the childcare centers were on the complete opposite side of the base from where the supposed breakout was detected. He was in Lucy’s care, and Becky was close by. They’d be safe. Besides, the break-in had only detected a total of twenty-six lifeforms entering the premises, so naturally, it wasn't something more than what they could handle (under the assumption they really were just facing normal people- though sense dictated otherwise). They’d be safe, and that was all that mattered. Lex, Ethan, and Hannah would likely be around the residential areas, working on schooling, so they’d be able to get to the refuge centers quickly enough without having to come into contact with the potential hostiles. Xander was interrogating Ted, but he would likely join John at the forefront of it all once they made it down to the area of the breach. Finally, he knew that Emma and Paul would likely be around the infirmary, since Emma had said something about getting some test results back and doing some diagnostics. They would be safe, along with their baby. God, he hoped they would live so he could meet their kid, so he could see Tim step into the role of the best cousin ever.</p><p>He sighed as he shook these thoughts from his mind. </p><p>They had a job to do. </p><p>“Okay,” he addressed his troops as the number on the elevator screen got closer and closer to the sublevel they were going to conduct the mission on, “This is a real-deal breach. We’re looking at twenty-five to thirty potential hostiles, who accessed the base through the water purification center on sublevel seven. Judging from the security camera footage, we seem to be looking at the zealots of one of the Lords in Black. Shoot if necessary...but only if necessary. If possible, we could question a few of these zealots, but if it comes down to you or them, you know what to do. Understood?”</p><p>As a chorus of ‘yes sir’ met him, the beep of the elevator sent a chill down his spine. He did his best to control his breathing as he spun around and began to lead them through the hallways. </p><p>“Captain Houston!”</p><p>He turned to his right to see General John McNamara striding towards him, gun drawn and eyes alert.</p><p>“General,” he greeted, “What are we looking at?” </p><p>“Some twenty-thirty hostiles,” John nodded, looking down the hallways as he lowered his voice, “Purple eyes.”</p><p>“Purple eyes?” Tom whispered, “So, it <em> is </em> a Lord in Black?”</p><p>“Believe so,” John nodded, “If we can’t contain them, we need to seal off this level….if we can’t do either...well…” </p><p>Both men glanced uneasily down at their weapons. The idea of killing these things was not one they took lightly. The taking of any form of life was not a notion that they took lightly...still, it was a chance they would have to take. Still, they’d been trained that the needs of the many outweigh the few...and whatever was necessary to make sure that the remains of Hatchetfield survived was something they would do.</p><p>They both nodded in understanding as John turned to the operatives, “Stay with your groups. You know who your squads are. I want two groups per hallway, do not engage with weapons unless provoked, we need to remember some of these used to be civilians.” </p><p>The notion of that sent a chill up Tom’s spine. What if he came across an old friend that had been lost? That was something he wouldn’t wish on any of the operatives under his command.</p><p>As he watched the people under his command fan out into the separate hallways, he looked to John whose eyes widened slightly, “Cover-”</p><p>“TOM!”</p><p>Tom hadn’t registered John’s shout before a sharp stabbing pain was pressed into the back of his neck, like someone had thrust a long needle into the base of his head. A cold, burning pain spread throughout his neck as rough strong hands grabbed his shoulder and forced him to his knees before disappearing. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he fell to the ground with a grunt of pain, one of his hands shakily going to the instrument still sticking out of the back of his neck and pulling it free, throwing it to the side. As he hit the cool floor, he felt his eyes flutter shut.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, he found that he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He could see John, shouting something, but darkness tugged at his vision as the sounds of gunshots and the operatives he commanded were screaming, fighting a foe he didn’t even get the chance to face. John’s voice was muted as he continued to shout something at the operatives, the usually stoic man looking scared out of his wits as his green eyes darted around the room. </p><p>All Tom could think of as Darkness claimed him was his failure. </p><p>Oh, he hoped to God, this wasn’t death. </p><p>
  <em> Little did he know...it was something far worse. </em>
</p><p>—-</p><p>    “Miss Lucy,” Tim whimpered as Lucy threw him into the small refuge area the classroom had, “I’m scared.”</p><p>    “I know, Tim,” she soothed, failing to catch her breath herself as she started to shepherd the children she’d been charged with watching into their designated refuge area, “I know...but we mustn’t panic...okay?”</p><p>She softly hugged a smaller child, a little girl, before gesturing for Tim to hold out his hands and lead the girl into the area, “You need to be a leader, okay Tim?” </p><p>The boy’s eyes widened and more tears fell from his big brown eyes, “Aren’t you coming!” </p><p>Lucy felt some of her heart break as she shook her head, “No, sweet boy. I need to stay out here until they give us the all-clear. But we’ll all be safe...I promise...you just need to be the leader okay?”</p><p>She hated herself for saying those words. </p><p>No child should have been forced to be a leader in situations as dire as this. But all she had to protect these children was a few doors and a shotgun that John had given her when she’d taken on the role of a childcare worker, and by God, she wouldn’t leave these children defenseless. </p><p>Tears and snot dripped down Tim’s face, making her hate herself even more for the terror that was clear in his eyes. He trembled as he pulled another child, a sobbing four year old into his arms. </p><p>Though his lower lip quivered, he smiled comfortingly at the other children, “It’s okay! M-my dad...and Miss L-Lucy will protect us...and M-Mackie...all of them! We’ll be okay.” </p><p>“That’s right,” she smiled comfortingly, despite the urge to cry herself, “It’s going to be okay.” </p><p>God, she hoped that she was right. </p><p>She cast one more grateful smile at Tim, before sealing away the passage, safely concealing the children in a series of tunnels, where the right people would come and retrieve them. <br/>She wiped away the stiff tears that were blooming in her eyes and set to work, pushing the desks and small tables that characterized the classroom in front of the door as some form of barricade between the hallways and the main doors. </p><p>With a small curse under her breath which would have appalled her mother, she went to the small cabinet, opening it to reveal a gun safe that was far out of any of the children’s reach.</p><p>She hated the fact that they were living in times where this was the only option she had to protect the small defenseless children behind the safe walls. She prayed with all her might that they couldn’t hear the gunshots and screams that she could, each sound sending painful chills through her bones.</p><p>After typing in the small code, which changed every week, she pulled the shotgun from the safe, hoping she didn’t have to use it, and that she would dispose of the weapon before any of the children she watched would know that <em> this </em>was the length she would go to in order to protect them. </p><p>She inspected the gun thoroughly. She’d never liked guns, but she knew how to shoot. She and Jonathan had often gone hunting when they courted, and she was very clearly a better shot than he. Though, she didn’t like it. Not one bit at all. In fact, she hated the very sight of a gun.</p><p>Still, she’d do anything to protect the children she’d sworn to protect. </p><p>She ran through their names in her head as she set to look for the bullets she could use to load the gun. </p><p>
  <em> Tim.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Veronica.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jeremy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nicholas. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sasha. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emily.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oscar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Josefina and her twin Jasmin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Little Monica. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sara-Rose. </em>
</p><p>All of them were children that she’d fallen in love with when she’d met them. She’d never even once considered the possibility of being a teacher...or even a child caretaker, but something about these children, all of them younger than ten with Tim being the oldest, made her want to protect them with everything she had. And that was just what she’d-</p><p>Her thoughts were cut short by the feeling of something cool and sharp stabbing into the base of her neck, the cool burning sensation constricting around her throat like a vine or a python. </p><p>She dropped the gun, having not even gotten the chance to load it as she sank on her knees, purple spots dancing in her vision. </p><p>As her world faded to blackness as she fell to the floor, she could make out the sight of bare calves walking to the door before disappearing in a cloud of yellow smoke. </p><p>That was all she could see before darkness claimed her.</p><p>---</p><p>“Babe, c’mon!” Ethan shouted as he tugged the door to the refuge access tunnel quickly, “Hurry!”</p><p>Lex panted as she tugged on Hannah’s hand desperately, the girl whimpering and muttering nothings under her breath as they both ran for the access tunnel. The loud noises were too much for Hannah, sending the girl into a panic attack the moment the alarms had gone off. </p><p>Had Lex been stronger and in less of a panic, she would have scooped her sister up and ran for the safest place possible, but instead had found their small trio running for the nearest access point. </p><p>A code red. </p><p>Something had gotten in that wasn’t supposed to.</p><p>How the fuck had that happened?</p><p>Hannah suddenly stopped running, suddenly acting as a ball and chain, planting herself to the ground, sending Lex flying away from her and sliding to the ground. </p><p>Lex looked up from the ground, to see her sister, rooted in front of her, dark eyes wide and mouth agape. Her face was incredibly pale and she looked as though she’d seen a ghost. </p><p>“LEXI!” Ethan screamed from where he was by the access door. </p><p>She didn’t get the chance to react before something cold wrapped around her neck with a sharp stabbing pain which made shades of gold and purple dance in her vision, almost hypnotizing her as a wave of exhaustion rode over her.</p><p>Before she knew what was happening, she slumped to the floor unconscious. </p><p>The last thing she could hear was Hannah scream her name</p><p>---</p><p>    “T-Ted?” </p><p>    That was the only word Bill could utter as he stared into the blank face of what had been his annoying coworker before a sharp object he couldn’t see was plunged into the base of his neck.</p><p>Bill fell to the ground slowly, his eyes never leaving the hospital-gown clad form of the man, his usually-hazel eyes staring blankly at him. He couldn’t even find the strength to pull the source of the chill and the pain out from where it had been lodged in the base of his neck.</p><p>He wanted to yell for help. </p><p>To scream at the cold pain that was suddenly burning through his veins. </p><p>To panic at the spots that moved with a rhythm he couldn’t recognize in his vision. </p><p>He wanted to ask Ted where he’d been. </p><p>He wanted to ask if the rumors of him attacking Emma were true. </p><p>He wanted to ask Ted why he’d done this. </p><p>But in all of the pain and confusion that Bill Woodward felt as his consciousness seeped away from him, he could only think of his daughter. </p><p>He’d seen her go to Deb’s apartment so they could work on schooling together. </p><p>Deb would keep her safe. </p><p>He trusted Deb to do that. </p><p>Wherever they were, he hoped Alice was safe.  </p><p>---</p><p>June curled against the wall, watching as the lights in the room flashed red, on and off. She could hear the sounds of screams of the people she’d formerly worked with faced the danger outside. </p><p>She was satisfied. <br/>    She’d known that as soon as John had come back and stepped into leadership, shit would hit the fan and it had. </p><p>Though it brought her no satisfaction to see the world come to its end, and the last of Hatchetfield’s survivors would be wiped out before they knew that she had been the one to keep them alive this long, she was pleased that, at the very least, she’d been right.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her satisfaction, however, was cut short as the emergency lights in her cells suddenly turned off, and the doors to her cell were blown off, leaving smoke to pour into the room in a menacing cloud. She coughed, jumping to her feet, steadying herself against the wall. </p><p>Through the darkness and smoke which filled the room, forcing a few raspy coughs from her lungs she could see a silhouette standing in her doorway, blinking in and out of view as the red emergency lights from the hallway blared on and off. </p><p>She wished she had her weapon as she was approached by the figure. </p><p>Suddenly, the emergency lights of her cell flickered back on, illuminating the figure that stood only a few feet away from her. It took every fiber of her being not to gasp at the familiar face of her mentor. </p><p>Long gone was the respectable man she’d once known. </p><p>In his place, stood a viper-like man with a terrifying grin. Clad in a terrible ensemble composed entirely out of denim, his horribly manicured hands held a fake-looking green apple. </p><p>His greasy black hair was slicked back as he regarded her, grinning only wider at the sight of her evident shock. </p><p>“Hey there, Junebug,” Colonel Wilbur Cross sneered, “My bosses have a proposition for you...Seems you’ve caught our attention…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...this chapter is supposed to be two parts, and it was still really long.</p><p>Part Two will cover the perspectives we missed (Paul, Emma, Becky, Xander, etc.)</p><p>What are the Lords in Black planning...and what did they do to Lex, Lucy, Bill, and Tom...and what will they do to the people in the next one?!</p><p>Hopefully Emma and Baby Paulkins will be safe.</p><p>What did Hidgens find? What does this mean?</p><p>Well...that’s a whole lot of vexing questions that I can’t answer for spoiler reasons.</p><p>ALSO NIGHTMARE TIME IS COMING TO YOUTUBE ON MY BIRTHDAY SO HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!! IM HYPED!!!</p><p>Prepare yourselves for Part Two, my friends, it’ll be a ride.</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like to let me know your theories!!! I love hearing from you guys!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please stay safe and healthy during this trying time!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Come Waste Away With Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shit hits the fan: Part Two</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this kinda overlaps with part of the last chapter and goes right back into the thick of the chaos from the last chapter! I really hope it doesn't get confusing because this might be the longest chapter I've written so far.</p><p>The title for this one comes from the song ”Everlong” by the Foo Fighters.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Blood, guns, stabbing, needles, mentions of hospital practice, also a description of prenatal care that might be slightly uncomfortable idk.<br/>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: February 7th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>“TOM!” </p><p>John shouted as he caught sight of a shadowy figure creeping up behind the man.</p><p>Before he could even draw his weapon to shoot the creeping figure, it raised a bony lanky limb and stabbed something dark into the back of Tom’s neck. </p><p>John was a captive audience as he watched Tim sink to the ground with a cry of pain, grappling with shaky hands at his neck and back, trying to pull free whatever he’d been assaulted with. John could only watch as his friend hit the ground. </p><p>Shakily, John looked up to see the figure of a tall man...a strangely familiar man with bony limbs and a greasy mustache, wearing a hospital gown. In one of his hands, he held several dark objects that John couldn’t see clearly, but judging from the way that he held them, they were something of importance. </p><p>“Spankoffski?” he whispered in disbelief as he took in the sight of the man before him. </p><p>He looked just as he had on the security camera footage from the day before, back when Xander was reviewing what they knew about Spankoffski’s case before his scheduled questioning today. The whites of his eyes had been painted a vibrant blue, much like Emma had reported when she’d been attacked, and the usually-hazel irises were a neon yellow. His wrists looked like they’d been rubbed raw with the restraints that Dr. Abadi had recommended they add to his cell to prevent him from harming himself or others...a lot of good that did, considering that he was now free. His head snapped to the side in an unnerving way, regarding John in the manner a confused puppy would before John withdrew his weapon. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He fired one single round at Spankoffski’s chest but was bewildered as the bullet dissolved into golden dust which fell on top of Tom's still body.</p><p>The man didn’t seem phased by the attempt to kill him, instead just glancing from the weapon to the operatives in the hallways, fighting off the people with the purple eyes.</p><p>Spankoffski grinned, making a chill run up John’s spine before the man disappeared in a puff of yellow smoke.</p><p>Spankoffski was free. </p><p>If he was free...<em> oh no. </em> </p><p>
  <em> Xander.  </em>
</p><p>If Spankoffski was somehow freed during the initial alert, then it meant that he’d somehow gotten past the security that surrounded him and possibly Xander, who was supposed to be questioning him. Had the intruders somehow freed him? That shouldn’t have been possible, seeing as how the Citadel Chambers they’d been keeping June and Ted in were on completely different sublevels. Unless...there were more. </p><p>He shook the thoughts of fear and Xander that gnawed away at his mind. He was a general. It wasn’t like him to get nervous. Xander was a capable agent, the best one he’d encountered, for that matter If there was anyone who would be able to handle themselves in the heat of battle, it would be Xander.</p><p>But this was a Lord in Black that they were dealing with… that, and a possessed Spankoffski….</p><p>No. </p><p>Xander would be fine. </p><p><em> He had to be fine. </em> </p><p>He glanced down at Tom, his brain suddenly jumping back into general mode.</p><p>“Tom!” he shouted, trying to shake the man awake, “Tom! Can you hear me?” </p><p>Tom’s eyelids fluttered slightly, and he muttered something inaudible under his breath. John flinched at the sounds of their operatives screaming in the hallways as they undoubtedly met the intruders. He tried to center himself. Pushing all thoughts of Xander and Spankoffski from his mind, he checked for a pulse and found with a sigh of relief that Tom’s heartbeat was relatively normal, if not, a little elevated. </p><p>“Captain Houston,” John began keeping his voice as official as he could. He had to remain under control in this situation. They were at war. He was a General. He had to stay calm, “Captain Houston, can you hear me?”</p><p>Tom’s eyes opened, but he looked as if he couldn’t understand a single word that he was saying. He stared blankly up at the ceiling as John whipped his head around, scanning the area.</p><p>He grabbed his transponder, “All units be on a high alert, there’s a subject out of containment,” he struggled to catch his breath as he surveyed the mostly abandoned area, the sounds of screams and gunfire echoing down from the hallways. He can hear the intruder’s laughter as the operatives, the highly trained agents under his command struggled to keep them under control. He cursed under his breath as he continued to shout into his transponder, “The subject’s name is Ted Spankoffski. The subject should be considered armed and dangerous, we’ve already got a man down...there’s also a potential breach on sublevel 36D near the citadel chambers, requesting back up to investigate.” </p><p>He sighed as he scrambled around the room, making sure his gun was loaded. He peered down one of the hallways, filled up with a fog that must have come for one of the operative’s countermeasures, unable to see much other than the occasional shadow. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hello, sir.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He whirled around to see someone standing over Tom. </p><p>It was a man, dressed in a carnival barker’s uniform. What must have once been brown eyes were now a sickening shade of purple as he peered at John, one of his hands poised on the handle of an almost cartoonishly large mallet. He reminded John of Xander in the way his features were somewhat rounded off and gentle, but in his purple eyes, there was nothing but an odd form of taunting. </p><p>“Who are you?” John demanded, raising his weapon. </p><p>“Why, sir,” the man gasped, raising a hand to his chest, “I’m merely here to serve the Watcher, sir.”</p><p>“The Watcher?” John questioned, his mind running through the list of nicknames that they’d found for the Lords in Black, vaguely remembering talk of one of the Lords being a  cyclops-like monster in appearance, “He’s responsible for this?” </p><p>“You ask too many questions, sir,” the Barker sneered, his purple eyes falling back down to Tom, “Looks like this man was chosen, huh?” </p><p>“Chosen?” John asked, keeping his voice as calm as he could, “Chosen for what?” </p><p>“Who’s to say, sir?” the Barker smiled, before holding out his mallet, “Say? Would you like a turn?” </p><p>“What the hell are you talking about?” John growled. </p><p>“Why, sir,” the Barker dramatically raised a hand to his chest once more, throwing his head back with a bout of facetious laughter “You really are a laugh, sir.” </p><p>He offered out the mallet again, “You could do us a great service in killing your friend here for us, sir. Would save us a whole lot of trouble...could prevent him from ever calling you out for the <em> failure </em>you are.”</p><p>John laughed bitterly, not lowering his weapon as the Barker continued his rant, twirling the handle of his mallet between his palms as if he were trying to start a fire. </p><p>“We’ve been watching you for a while, sir,” the Barker began to pace around Tom’s limp form, “<em> He’s </em> been watching you for a while...he even considered making you his favorite for a while...but he found someone else...you were too much of a failure for him...all of those men you lead to their deaths-”</p><p>“You’re damned wrong if you think I’m listening to any of this,” John muttered. </p><p>The Barker laughed, “See, sir? You wouldn’t even say that if you didn’t know it was true.”</p><p>John shook the Barker’s claims from his mind, “What does the Watcher want with us?” </p><p>The Barker didn’t answer the question as he continued to pace around Tom, swinging his mallet slightly so that it hung loosely over Tom.</p><p>“You failed your father,” The Barker mused, “He was a four-star general, wasn’t he? You became a general too, but nobody recognizes that because instead of defending the country, you fight things that don’t exist. Besides, if you did your job, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, sir.” </p><p>“Shut up,” John said as clearly as he could. He wouldn't allow this to get the best of him. </p><p>“You failed over and over again, didn’t you, sir?” The Barker went on, “You failed in the Apotheosis, hell, you sang and danced along with us...and you most definitely failed in Black Friday…”</p><p>“Shut up,” John said, a little more forcefully. </p><p>“Forced to watch the world continue without you,” the Barker asserted, “You were forced to relive the weight of your failure...watch as the earth cracked underneath the world beneath the ones you loved...how many times have you watched Xander die now, sir?” </p><p>“<em> Stop. </em>”</p><p>None of this was true. They were just trying to get in his head. He hadn’t failed.</p><p>Had he? </p><p>After all, he’d been sent to Hatchetfield to protect the citizens and destroy all that was left of the alien pathogen. He’d been so close to success when he’d been...he’d failed…</p><p>He’d failed to protect Hatchetfield from the apotheosis. </p><p>He’d failed to prevent disaster on Black Friday. </p><p>He’d been forced to repent for those sins by watching the world he’d once loved crack underneath the weight of the loss. </p><p>He’d watched so many suffer. </p><p>All because he’d failed.</p><p>“Failure as a son,” the Barker went on, swinging the mallet closer to Tom’s face as he did “Failure as a General, Failure as a leader, Failure as a hus-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John didn’t even get the chance to register the sound of the gunshot as the Barker suddenly glanced down at a splotch of lilac that was spreading across his crisp striped shirt. The mallet fell to the ground in a deafening clatter as he suddenly gasped for air.</p><p>“Well, sir…” the Barker slurred as he fell to his knees, “Guess the tourist trap worked…”</p><p>With that, he slumped over, a mere foot from Tom, his mallet abandoned and smeared with violet blood.</p><p>John looked down at his gun. </p><p>He’d never pulled the trigger. </p><p>Suddenly, emerging from one of the hallways entrances, emerging from the billowing smoke, came the turtleneck-clad form of Henry Hidgens. In his arms, he held a shotgun, his steely eyes staring down at the dead Barker with a look of contempt. </p><p>“And stay down,” the man uttered gravely, “Bloody buzzard.” </p><p>Kicking aside the mallet, Hidgens kneeled to check on Tom, inspecting the man closely, “Don’t just stand there, General, we haven’t got all day.”</p><p>“Hidgens…” John whispered in disbelief, “Where...what…”</p><p>“We’ll have plenty of time for that later, General,” the Professor waved him off, “Right now we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”</p><p>John moved quickly towards the professor as he inspected Tom, “What happened to Captain Houston?” </p><p>“I...I…” John was at a loss for words, “I don’t know…”</p><p>Hidgens’ gaze softened, “The Barker got in your head, didn’t he?” </p><p>John didn’t answer. He hadn’t known what came over him in those moments. He glanced back down at the dead Barker. Somehow, everything that the Barker had been saying had been enough to paralyze him in a sense. While he’d still felt like he was in control, every word the Barker had spoken had shaken him. </p><p>He shook these thoughts away. He couldn’t allow that to happen again. They were dealing with forces beyond their control. Forces who wanted to get inside his head and make them crack. Nothing the Barker had said was true (was it?). He had a job to do. He couldn’t let this beat him. </p><p>Hidgens eyes widened, “Behind you!” </p><p>John whirled around with his weapon raised as they were approached by a man in a purple cowboy hat, his dark purple eyes tracing over them maliciously, something that looked like a western dueling pistol in his hand.</p><p>“Well, now,” he spoke with a southern drawl laced with the enthusiasm of a carnival worker- too much like the Barkers, in his opinion- his ragged dirty-blonde hair framing his face under the brim of his hat, “You look like you might be a good shot. Wouldn’t you like to try your luck at the shooting range-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John hadn’t hesitated that time. The man in the cowboy hat fell quickly to the ground, similar violet blood spreading over his own clothes. John turned his attention back to the Professor, who’d turned Tom onto his back and was examining the back of Tom’s neck.</p><p>“Was he stabbed with something?” Hidgens questioned, examining Tom carefully. </p><p>“Yes, I didn’t see it, though,” John snapped his mind back into General-mode, “It was Spankoffski...he’s free.”</p><p>Hidgens looked up and paled, “Spankoffski?” </p><p>John nodded, “I don’t know how...but it’s like he was when he tried to kill Emma...I don’t know how else to explain it but it was him...and whatever he had to stab Tom with, he has more.”</p><p>“Was it a needle? Something like a syringe?” Hidgens questioned, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the room. </p><p>“I don’t know,” John shook his head, “I didn’t get a good look.”</p><p>Hidgens nodded, “Tom needs to get back to the infirmary...and we need to go and check the citadel chambers for any other breaches.”</p><p>“I agree,” John nodded, “But if we make it out of this alive, you have to explain yourself.” </p><p>Hidgens shrugged as he hoisted Tom up, “Fair enough.” </p><p>“General McNamara!” </p><p>John turned around to see Rodney running towards him, covered in splatters of violet and red blood alike. His blue eyes widened as they fell on Tom and Hidgens, “What happened?” </p><p>“Long story, Rodney,” John sighed, “But your top priority should be getting Captain Houston to the infirmary...has the threat been neutralized?”</p><p>Rodney nodded, looking severely out of breath as his eyes traced over the room, “They all just...fell over...all dead.” </p><p>John and Hidgens shared a lock of concern. </p><p>“W-what?” John asked, unable to believe his ears. </p><p>“They all just toppled over. All dead, sir,” Rodney spoke, his eyes wide and his voice shaky, and John knew he wasn’t lying.</p><p>“You’re serious?” Hidgens asked. </p><p>Rodney looked slightly indignant at the old man’s remark, “Yes...I’m serious. Or would you rather see the dead bodies of these circus-looking people to find out?” </p><p>John was silent for a moment before he looked up at Rodney, “How many did we lose?” </p><p>Rodney looked down, “Jenkins, Crawley, Lewis, Harris, and five more who need to go to the infirmary.”</p><p>
  <em> Christ.  </em>
</p><p>“Rodney,” he began carefully, “You get everyone, including Captain Houston to the infirmary once everyone able has finished a sweep of these levels….”</p><p>“Yes, General,” Rodney raised an eyebrow, “What about you?” </p><p>“The professor and I are going to ensure that the Citadel Chambers are secure...Spankoffski’s on the loose and I want everyone who’s not injured or in hiding looking for him. I want eyes on Matthews and Perkins, too, chances are he’ll go after them again.”</p><p>He hated himself for thinking like that, but he wouldn’t place the lives of Paul, Emma, and their child on the line. He wouldn’t risk it. For all of their sakes, he would make sure they were all safe.</p><p>“With respect, sir,” Rodney looked confused, “If Spankoffski is confirmed to be on the loose, why would we make sure the Citadel Chambers are secure?” </p><p>“Because we still have personnel down there, and if Spankoffski was freed, then there might have been a breach of zealots down there,” came John’s blunt answer, “We also have more than one subject down there…”</p><p>He hated the idea of June, a woman who’d been on her last nerve in the past few weeks, being allowed loose, freely roaming the base with thoughts of homicide on her mind. After nearly killing Ethan, he’d done everything in his power to make sure that she wouldn’t hurt anyone else, but if the zealots had freed Ted, there were chances that they’d freed June too. </p><p>Rodney seemed to understand this and nodded, “I’ll oversee the cleanup and make sure that the lockdown is maintained until all is cleared.” </p><p>John saluted the man tiredly, “Thank you, Rodney...” he turned to the professor, who was inspecting something in the corner, “Professor, shall we?” </p><p>“Hmm...yes…” the Professor muttered, clearly not paying attention. </p><p>John stood and walked over to where the Professor was kneeling, “What is it?” </p><p>The professor looked up, his eyes looking thoroughly confused. He held up a small dark object for John to hold. </p><p>Gently, John removed the object from the Professor’s bony hands and inspected it. </p><p>It resembled some form of a syringe, composed of black and violet glass. The needle resembled something of a fencing foil, or even an embroidery needle rather than something used in vaccinations or cannulas, but judging from the fluid which resembled dried blood on the end, it was very clearly the object that he’d seen Ted stab into Tom’s neck.</p><p>“Was this…” the professor began.</p><p>“Yes,” John nodded, “Do you know what it is?” </p><p>“Wish I did,” the Professor shook his head, “But if he had more of them…”</p><p>“We need to find him,” John finished, he turned to Rodney, “Put an alert out for Ted Spankoffski. Public. If anyone sees him or thinks they’ve seen him, we know about it, okay?” </p><p>Rodney nodded resolutely, “Yes, sir.” </p><p>He passed the alien-looking object to Rodney, “Once we’ve located Xander, get that to his team for analysis. I want to know what it did to Tom Houston, understood?” </p><p>Rodney nodded, “Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Good,” John stood, making sure his gun was still intact and loaded, “Godspeed, Agent Rodney.” </p><p>He moved quickly to the elevator, watching as the Professor reloaded his weapon and joined him, pressing the appropriate transport into the keypad. He managed one final salute to Rodney before the doors slid shut and he and the Professor were left in the cold and dark elevator. </p><p>After a few moments of silence, the sound of the machinery and their bated breaths being their only companions, he turned to Hidgens, “Where’d the gun come from?” </p><p>Hidgens shrugged, “Hell if I know.” </p><p>John chuckled bitterly, “You do realize this is the second time we’ve found you with a gun under mysterious circumstances?” </p><p>“Yes,” the Professor nodded, “But would you rather that Barker broke Tom’s face in with the mallet?”</p><p>“I wasn’t saying it wasn’t helpful,” John offered, too tired to be suspicious of the old man, “I’m just saying it’s strange.” </p><p>“I told you, I made an oath,” Hidgens shrugged nonchalantly as he inspected his weapon.</p><p>“And yet you didn’t show up in time to stop Tom from being stabbed with...whatever that was,” John sighed. </p><p>“I don’t know how it works,” the Professor admitted, “But he’s still alive...that’s what matters.” </p><p>“I suppose,” John whispered, “Just know there’ll be a ton of questions we hope you can answer when we get back.” </p><p>“I’ll count on it,” Hidgens deadpanned as they both watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator change slowly but surely. </p><p>As John watched the number change, he found himself worrying more and more about Xander. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t push the thoughts of what the Barker had said out of his mind. Had he truly failed everybody he cared about? Had he failed Xander? </p><p>He hoped with all of his might that he wouldn’t go down there to find the division’s top scientists dead. To find his husband dead. </p><p>He’d not know what to do if that were the case. </p><p>He was certain that all of the control and exercises that he’d learned wouldn’t be enough to keep him from acting rashly. Sure, he was one of the best Generals the organization had ever seen...but all of this had fallen so quickly….all of it was so out of his control, he didn’t know what to think. He never would know what to do. Xander served as an anchor in times of crisis for him. He only hoped that his ties to that anchor hadn’t been cut. </p><p>Still, if Xander <em> had </em>died he’d know…, right?</p><p>
  <em> The mission, John, the mission. Worry later. Xander’s fine. He can handle himself. </em>
</p><p>The incessant ding of the elevator doors opening snapped him from his thoughts.</p><p>He breathed in deeply and made sure that his gun was loaded again before looking at the Professor, “Shall we?”</p><p>Slowly and carefully, the two exited the elevator, scanning the dark corridors carefully for the sight of any intrusion. Instead, all they found were the flashing lights indicating a code red, and a small form of fog that had settled over the corridors themselves. </p><p>John himself hadn’t been down there in a while. The last time he had, it had been so he could check up on June. Not that it had done him much good, she’d merely refused to talk to him and break one of his operative’s arms in the process. </p><p>“It’s quiet,” the Professor noted, his eyes scanning their surroundings intently. </p><p>John nodded, now better controlling his breath and his thoughts, “Stay close, eyes up.” </p><p>They slowly paced throughout the winding corridors, their only source of light being the flashing emergency lights, making it look almost as if they’d stepped onto the set of some strange slasher film. </p><p>Hidgens had been right in his initial observation that the sublevel was too quiet. It was far too quiet for John’s liking, somehow it made his senses feel sharper, making him move with an efficiency he’d not had when the mission had begun. He’d not allow himself to slip up. Not again.</p><p>Soon, they made it to the citadel chamber that they’d converted into an almost-hospital roo for Ted, the doors, presumably blown open, laying loosely in the hallway as if they’d been carelessly tossed aside.</p><p>“Cover me,” he whispered to Hidgens, who’d nodded and cocked his gun, one of the empty bullet casings from his latest shot clattering to the floor. </p><p>Though the room was filled with a strange fog, John carefully made his way into the circular room and was aghast by what he saw. </p><p>Medical equipment and personnel were scattered about the room as if a toddler had carelessly emptied the contents of their toybox. In the red light, it was hard to make out anything definitive, but he recognized one of the crumpled forms against the far wall almost instantly. </p><p>“Xander!” he moved forward, placing his gun in his holster, rushing to his husband, who looked curled in on himself, “Xander, can you hear me?” </p><p>“Ughhh,” Xander whispered, his brow furrowing as he opened his eyes, making a sea of relief flood every cell in John’s body, “Next time, you get to do the questioning, okay?”</p><p>John sighed and chuckled, “You okay?” </p><p>“I’ll live,” Xander groaned as he forced himself up into a sitting position, “But I won’t enjoy it.” </p><p>“Ditto, over here,” came the strained voice of Dr. Abadi. John whirled around to see the woman in question pushing herself into a sitting position, her hand gingerly touching a bleeding gash over her eyebrow, the blood staining the lilac hijab she’d worn today. </p><p>He glanced down at the other two nurses, who’d been assigned to the room, MacMillan and Norton, if he remembered correctly. Both were covered in blood, and with a sickening thud in his gut, he realized that neither of them were breathing. </p><p>“What happened here?” he breathed, tearing his gaze away from the dead nurses and turning to Xander. </p><p>Xander chuckled bitterly, his eyes tracing guiltily over the two dead nurses. </p><p>“Hey,” John soothed, “Don’t look at them, Xan, look at me...what happened?” </p><p>“Ted,” Xander whispered, “It was like...like he was on some form of neon steroids or something...one minute we’re trying to sedate him, because he kept yelling and screaming...and the next…” he trailed off, lifting a hand to his head, which looked like it was starting to bruise slightly. </p><p>“What happened?” John asked softly, being as gentle as he could.</p><p>“It was like…” Xander began, “It was like he had all this...power...suddenly, he threw us all against the wall...broke free of his restraints...then he was gone.”</p><p>John cursed under his breath, making Xander’s eyes widen in concern. </p><p>“What…” Xander began, “What? What’s wrong?” </p><p>“He attacked Tom, Xander,” John whispered, pulling Xander to his feet and making sure he was steady. </p><p>Xander’s eyes widened and he cursed, his hand going to his holster, “Seriously?” </p><p>John nodded gravely, “We don’t know who else he may be going after but-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Still haven’t gotten it through that thick skull, haven’t you, John?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A terrifyingly familiar voice echoed through the room, sending John and Xander into stiff battle positions, both of their firearms drawn and aimed towards the decimated entrance of the citadel chamber. Hidgens too, gently pulled Dr. Abadi to her feet and stood in front of her, his shotgun aimed at the snide figure of a man dressed in denim, standing in the doorway. </p><p>A snarl left Xander’s lips before John could even process who it was that they were looking at. </p><p>“ Cross.”</p><p>The man in question smiled, “Miss me?” </p><p>“No,” John muttered, already exhausted by the man’s presence. </p><p>“Oh come on, Johnny,” Cross grinned, “Don’t be like that.”</p><p>John’s grip on his gun tightened, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Wilbur let out a scoff that sounded more like an obnoxious laugh, “Why am I here? Have you taken a look around here lately?”</p><p>John didn’t answer as the man waved his arms around energetically, gesturing to the carnage and disaster that surrounded them. </p><p>“Take a good look around here, John,” the man spoke clearly, almost as if he were preparing to call an army off to war, “You’re living in the world of Gods, now.”</p><p>“Is that what they are?” Xander scoffed, “Gods? Not monsters?” </p><p>Cross scoffed, “Same difference. I thought you of all people would know that, Xander.”</p><p>“You still haven’t answered my question,” John interjected, “<em> Why are you here? </em>”</p><p>“Why,” Cross gasped dramatically, “To watch the seeds of an empire’s collapse be sown...and to visit some old friends...maybe even distract a little, who’s to say? Whatever it is, you’re witnessing the beginning.”</p><p>“The beginning?” Hidgens scoffed, “The beginning of what?” </p><p>Cross raised an eyebrow, looking at Hidgens as if he’d only just realized that he was standing there, “Weren’t you dead?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Hidgens shrugged, his aim not faltering as it was trained on the greasy man, “It didn’t take.”</p><p>“Figures,” Cross shrugged, spitting at the ground near where Hidgens stood, “You always were a nuisance...if you’re so clever, why don’t you tell them what I’m doing here?” </p><p>“With you,” Hidgens spoke through gritted teeth, “It could be anything...so do us a favor and <em> answer the damn question </em>.”</p><p>Cross clicked his tongue, “Shame on all of you...can’t the emissary of the Gods just visit some old friends for a chat?” </p><p>“Emissary?” John laughed bitterly, “Is that what they’re calling you?” </p><p>Cross smiled, making John only feel more annoyed, “Something like that...quite the title, huh?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Xander shrugged, “Sounds kinda dull to me.”</p><p>“I second that notion,” Hidgens grumbled from his place closest to Cross.</p><p>Cross’ eyes flashed with indignance, “It doesn’t matter what you think...you’ll be suffering a slow death soon enough.”</p><p>“What do you mean, you bastard?!” Hidgens demanded of the denim-atrocity-wearing man standing before them.</p><p>“You see,” Cross straightened his jacket, “My Master’s are all merciful and reasonable beings...the Time Bastard was smart in agreeing to their terms…”</p><p>“The Time Bastard?” Xander aked, but John’s head was suddenly spinning.</p><p>
  <em> Bastard.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hadn’t Hannah mentioned once a bastard...and a box...oh no… </em>
</p><p>“What did you do to Ted?” He demanded, cocking his gun and pointing it more strongly at Cross.</p><p>Cross grinned again, “<em> We </em>did nothing but offer him a way to be rid of the pain…” he inspected his jagged nails closely, “He’s the one who accepted.”</p><p>“What did you make him do?” Hidgens demanded, his voice raised, his stance a little stronger.</p><p>“Nothing he didn't want to do, ” came Cross’s snide reply.</p><p>The viper-like man glanced down at the watch on his wrist, “Now, he’ll be just about finishing up here in a minute, hope all six of them take well enough to it.”</p><p>“Well enough to what, you bastard?!” Hidgens roared. </p><p>Cross yawned, “Try not to get all in a tizzy, old man, or it might put you in a grave again.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John didn’t shake as he pulled the trigger. The man was taunting them, and he worked for the enemy. He was a threat that needed to be dealt with...but the bullet clearly had done nothing. </p><p>Cross glanced down at his chest, where a smoldering bullet hole was left tearing through the fabric. Strangely enough, no blood bloomed where the wound should have been. </p><p>He raised a disapproving brow, “Really, John?”</p><p>John said nothing as he stared the man down. </p><p>Cross grinned again, laughing maniacally, “You of all people should know, you can’t kill a man who’s already dead.”</p><p>With that, the man snapped his fingers and disappeared in a plume of green smoke, leaving the four of them bewildered. </p><p>“What did he mean?” John asked the Professor, “What did he mean there were six of them?”</p><p>“I don’t know…” Hidgens spoke, his voice shaky, “But one thing’s for sure...none of us are safe anymore.”</p><p>---</p><p>The infirmary was chaos.</p><p>Since the lockdown had begun, the code red had sent everyone who wasn’t a PEIP-trained agent into a frenzy.</p><p>Becky had done her best to keep her panic under control, focusing on the wellbeing and security of her patients above all else, but she knew that the rumors of what was happening in the sublevels did nothing to calm her nerves. </p><p>Of course, Phillipa was handling everything beautifully, despite the knowledge that her wife was down in the levels with one of the potential breaches. She managed to calmly give orders and divert different patients to different wards for security reasons, while also tending to the newly wounded who were managing to be transported discretely to the infirmary. </p><p>Several nurses had been dispatched to the refuge areas in order to tend to the people who’d been wounded, including Nurse Martin, Nurse Ventor, Nurse Taylor, and Nurse Chapel, leaving Becky and some other staff to tend to the people who managed to make it to the infirmary. Unlike most departments during a lockdown, some exits and entrances to the infirmary were prohibited from being locked down and these were made known to only a few agents. This allowed for people to be transported in and out of the infirmary in the event of an emergency, therefore preventing the disruption of medical availability.</p><p>Needless to say, the medical personnel that had been assigned to remain in the main infirmary were somewhat overwhelmed. The patients they already had prior to the emergency call, and the people that were being brought in from the affected sublevels were stuffed through the hallways of the infirmary, and everyone, it seemed, was stepping on top of one another. The chorus of people crying out in pain or for help, in addition with some people crying in general, broke her heart as she worked tirelessly to get people settled. </p><p>Then, there were the bodies. </p><p>It seemed that the sweep of the original floor with the breach had been completed as the bodies of operatives and the perpetrators- all dressed in purple and yellow clothing that resembled something circus performers would wear would be brought through some of the few entrances that remained open. Every time people bleeding red or purple blood were brought past her, she was reminded that they truly were in a world at war. The world was clearly losing it. She noticed how the bodies of all of the purple-carnival people had strange eyes. Their eyes no longer bore the vibrant purple irises that the operatives had reported in order to put everyone on alert and ensure that they weren’t approached. Instead, their eyes looked as if their corneas had been marbled over with a purple and yellow glaze, all of them staring at nothingness. </p><p>She felt sick as she saw familiar faces zipped up in body bags, rolled past her down to the mortuary. One of them was an old woman she was fairly certain she’d gone to church with once or twice. Iris was her name. Iris McCauley. She used to wear green cardigans and big fancy hats to church, and though she lacked most of her teeth, she had an infectious smile. Now, the woman was stiff and dead, dressed as though she was some sort of carnival fortune-teller, decked in floaty, intricately-patterned purple fabric, beaded necklaces and gems covering her as her long silver hair was pulled into a messy braid. She looked as if she’d been dressed up for halloween, or if she’d been pulled from the fairytales as a wicked witch or even Baba Yaga. </p><p>As Iris’ body bag was zipped up, Becky said a silent prayer for the old woman. Whatever it was that had made her serve the Lords in Black, she hadn’t deserved it. That smiling, prudish old woman had been in her fifth year of retirement, if Becky remembered correctly, and was planning a trip to Ireland, as it was all she talked about when they weren’t listening to sermons. The idea that such a loving and gentle old woman had been forced to be a player in a war nobody deserved to fight reminded Becky of the ugly truth that war was not something that was discriminatory in the destruction it wrought. </p><p>She finished patching up one of the operatives from one of the sublevels, his face splattered with purple and red blood alike as he stared into nothingness. </p><p>“Okay,” she sighed as she finished placing his broken wrist into a splint, eyeing the gashes across his face that she’d patched up moments before, “How does that feel?”</p><p>He merely nodded in response, not offering any verbal input. </p><p>She sighed, “Why don’t you get some rest? One of the other nurses may come by and check on you later, okay?” </p><p>He didn’t respond, instead moving silently from the bed to one of the chairs in the hallway, clearing up the bed for the next person’s use. She merely nodded in thanks and moved to the next patient.</p><p>She was fairly certain she’d never worked this prolifically when it came to patient care, and it was necessitated with as many people as were coming in. Most of them were PEIP personnel, thankfully, not civilians or children, but it was clear that whatever had happened, it had done a number on Tom’s operatives. </p><p>“I need some help over here!” </p><p>She whirled around at the sound of Agent Rodney’s voice to see the man in question entering from one of the refuge entrances. The sight she beheld was enough to make her heart stop. </p><p>He was propping up Tom, half -dragging the burly man across the infirmary floor to where she was standing. From the looks of it, Tom was unconscious, his eyes closed and his curly hair drooping in his face. </p><p>Kicking immediately into nurse mode, she rushed forward and looped Tom’s other arm over his shoulders, helping Rodney slowly get Tom over to where they had one or two vacant gurneys (which was an oddity during times of crisis). </p><p>“What happened?” she panted as she helped Rodney place Tom on the gurney, which was pushed against the wall in one of the hallways, ignoring the panic that built in her veins the longer she held Tom up. He sounded like his breathing was ragged as he muttered words under his breath. Words that she couldn’t hear. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Rodney’s own breath was ragged as he leaned against the wall, “John said that Ted stabbed him with something…” </p><p>“Ted?!” she whirled on him.</p><p>Rodney looked at her as if he’d been taken aback, “Yeah...we put out an alert…”</p><p>“You think I can hear any alerts with as loud as it is in here?” she exclaimed, her heart pounding in her chest, “He’s free?”</p><p>“From the looks of it,”  Rodney nodded gravely, “We don’t know what he did but…” he trailed off, as if understanding that no explanation he could offer would make it any better, “Becky...I’m sorry.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” she spoke abruptly, retrieving a small flashlight from her pocket and forcing one of Tom’s eyes open. She couldn’t allow her personal fear or feelings get in the way of her doing her job correctly. She quickly checked for a response of his eyes to the light and was relieved upon seeing miosis. He was breathing and didn’t seem to be in physical distress. If anything, she would have been fooled into thinking he was asleep...but Rodney had said he’d been stabbed with something, so shouldn’t he have been bleeding?</p><p>“You said he was stabbed?” Becky looked up at Rodney. </p><p>“Yeah, at the base of his neck...or at least that’s what John said,” Rodney looked just as confused as she was, “But he’s not bleeding or anything, so I don’t know what to make of it…” </p><p>“Help me,” she told him, moving to flip Tom over onto his stomach so she could examine the base of his neck. </p><p>Sure enough, the skin surrounding the base of his neck looked normal. There was nothing to indicate that anything had broken skin. If it hadn’t been for the testimony of Rodney and John, she would have thought they’d brought Tom in for no reason at all.</p><p>“Did you see what he was stabbed with?” she asked him. </p><p>Rodney’s eyes widened, as if he’d just remembered something important, “Yes! John gave it to me for analysis,” he reached his hand into his pocket before a confused look crossed his eyes. As he withdrew his hand from his pocket, Becky saw that he was holding a handful of black dust, “I-I don’t understand...it looked like a weird syringe-”</p><p>“Okay,” Becky sighed, shaking away the wave of unease, “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out later...you stay with Tom until a doctor gets to you okay? Dr. Hallmark should be available in a few-”</p><p>“<em> Please help us!”  </em></p><p>Becky whirled to the entrance again to see Ethan standing there, his whole body shaking as he held a limp figure in his arms. His eyes were red and puffy, as he shook, Hannah grasping onto the sleeve of his jacket as they all stood there amidst the chaos, looking horribly terrified. It was then that Becky realized that Ethan was holding Lex, limp and unconscious in his arms. </p><p>She ran forward, “What happened?!”</p><p>Ethan sniffed, “Some guy...just came out of nowhere….”</p><p>“Bastard,” Hannah whimpered, burying her face in Ethan’s side, “Under control...hurt Lexi...can’t hear her...can’t read it…”</p><p>As if on cue, one of the other nurses with a gurney came forward, helping Ethan transfer Lex onto it and moved slowly through the crowded infirmary to one of the back rooms. Becky worked quickly to check responsiveness, casting one final glance over her shoulder at Tom and Rodney, still near the hallway wall. </p><p>“Ethan,” she soothed as she checked to make sure that Lex was still breathing, “What happened?”</p><p>“I….I was trying to get us safe,” Ethan sniffed, holding Hannah close as he followed Becky into a ward that wasn’t nearly as crowded as the others. She made a mental note to have Tom moved here so she could keep a track of them both, “We were running...and some guy just...he just stabbed her in the neck...with something black…”</p><p>Becky froze, turning to Ethan, “What?”</p><p>“And she wasn’t even b-bleeding,” Ethan sobbed, “But she just passed out..and I couldn’t wake her up...I don’t...I couldn’t…”</p><p>“Was it Ted?” she asked him, putting a comforting hand on Ethan’s shoulder, “The guy with the mustache...from the portal incident?”</p><p>Ethan’s eyes widened, “Y-Yes...how did you…” </p><p>She turned to one of the other nurses, Nurse Rachel Potter, “If anybody else comes into this infirmary unconscious, with reports of someone sticking them in the neck with an unidentified object, I want you to bring them to this ward, okay?” </p><p>Nurse Potter nodded and began to leave when Becky called out to her, “And bring Tom Houston in here, he should be in Hallway C-”</p><p>“Becky!” </p><p>She turned to see Xander and John limping into the ward, nearly tripping over the bustle of people making their ways in and out of the wards. Becky didn’t stop working over Lex as they approached her. </p><p>“Great, you guys are okay,” she sighed, placing a blood pressure cuff on Lex’s arm and checking for pupil miosis on the girl, “You want to explain to me what’s going on?” </p><p>“I wish I could, Beck,” John sighed, moving out of the way as Tom was rolled into the ward, “Everything just spiraled out of control- what happened to Lex?” His eyes widened as they fell on Lex, and Ethan and Hannah who’d been backed into a corner, the two of them trying very hard not to cry as they watched Becky work over her. </p><p>“Same thing that happened to Tom, from the looks of it- move his gurney closer to her, see if we can fit more people in here” Becky answered curtly as she continued to work, getting mildly distracted by the way the other people worked around her, quickly transitioning her attention to Tom.</p><p>John’s eyes widened again, “Spankoffski did this?” </p><p>“That’s the way it looks,” Becky breathed, preparing to draw a blood sample from Tom “Have we got eyes on Paul and Emma?”</p><p>“Haven’t heard from them,” John sounded uncharacteristically scared. </p><p>Becky’s heart sank with a sickening thud in her chest. </p><p>If Ted was on the loose…he might come after them...he might try to...</p><p>No. </p><p>She couldn’t worry.  </p><p>She needed to focus on the here and now. </p><p>Muttering a silent prayer that wherever Paul and Emma were, that their baby and they were safe, she started to draw the dark red blood from the vein in Tom’s arm.</p><p>“Barnes!”</p><p>Becky sighed again at the sound of her name, disposing of the needle in the sharps waste bin and turned around to see another gurney entering the ward, Nurse Potter coming in with it. She glanced down and saw a man laying there, with dark skin and wearing the uniform of an information department worker. She squeezed past a few other people as she approached the gurney, peering down at the man. </p><p>“You were right,” Rachel panted, “There’s this one, and from what I hear, Ray found one more in the caretaker section. This guy still had the thing in his neck when he was found...then it just...crumbled.”</p><p>
  <em> Just like the one that Rodney had. </em>
</p><p>Becky shook these thoughts away as she focused all of her attention on caring for the man.</p><p>“What’s his name?” Becky asked as she began to analyze the man’s state, checking for pulse and breathing. </p><p>“ID says Bill Woodward,” Potter replied as she began to continue some work on both Lex and Tom in updating charts. </p><p>
  <em> Bill Woodward.  </em>
</p><p>The name was familiar to Becky. She was fairly certain that Paul had mentioned that his best friend's name was Bill. If this was him...she shook those thoughts away. Bill was a relatively common name, and if he truly worked in the information and intelligence sector, then Paul could probably identify him more clearly later. </p><p>“I’ve got another one here!” came the voice of Ray Ventor as he entered the crowded ward. </p><p>Becky whirled around and saw Ray carrying in another woman, with dark brown hair. </p><p>“This is Lucy Stockworth,” Ventor said as he lay Lucy down on a small collapsible cot that lay beside the gurney Lex was on, “A mysterious sharp object was found in her hand when I got the kids she was watching out of the recreational sector’s refuge. I tried to collect it for analysis, and it just crumbled to dust.” </p><p>Becky sighed. </p><p>Tom, Lex, Bill, and now Lucy. </p><p>Who else? </p><p>And how many more? </p><p>“Just keep an eye on her vitals and keep her stable until Phillipa, Jerry, or Clementine can get to her,” Becky instructed, turning her attention back to Bill, moving one of his eyes open to check for miosis. Upon opening one of his eyes and shining light into it, she instantly noticed that his pupils didn’t contract. Thinking quickly, she immediately began to examine the man for any head injuries or any signs that would indicate cerebral swelling, when all of the sudden, the man lurched upward, both of his eyes open as he gasped for air. </p><p>“Sir, sir,” she held out her hands to keep him from hurting himself or overwhelming himself, “Sir, calm down, you’re in the infirmary, you’re safe...” </p><p>“I can’t...I can’t…” the man’s breathing was ragged as his hands fumbled aimlessly at the world surrounding him, “I can’t see...<em> I can’t see! </em>”</p><p>“Sir, please don’t panic,” she pleaded with him, holding him down as he squirmed, his panic making adrenaline suddenly run high in her veins. </p><p>“I want my daughter!” the man sobbed, “I want my daughter...please...why did he do this...where’s my daughter!?!”</p><p>His desperation broke Becky’s heart as she was quickly handed a sedative to get the man under control. Ray moved over to help her as she held the man down, sticking the man in the neck so that the sedative could run its course. </p><p>Very quickly, his eyes drooped and his panicked words became slurred, his panic and resistance falling as sleep tugged him downward. </p><p>“<em> Alice...please...Ali...I can’t see… </em>”</p><p>Becky turned to John, taking in the horror that was clearly painted on the man’s face.</p><p>
  <em> “What happened here?!”  </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Today was supposed to be like any other day.</p><p>Well, it was the day they would get the first sonogram, so maybe not like <em> any </em>other day, but there wasn’t supposed to be anything abnormally dangerous.</p><p>Today had been the six week period marker since they’d hypothesized that Emma became pregnant, which meant that they were supposed to go in and conduct the first sonogram.</p><p>It had been easy. Emma had gotten out of working with Hidgens, Paul met her at Phillipa’s private office so nobody would see them meeting her (not that they’d done well at preventing disclosure to people within their small family), and they’d see if they could check up on the baby’s progress and finalize a few details. They’d been told that normally ultrasounds would be conducted around eleven to twelve weeks, but since Phillipa wanted to monitor the baby’s progress as much as possible, they’d made the decision to have the first one at six weeks. </p><p>The appointment itself had gone well. At this point, the baby was still too small to be completely visible to them, but Phillipa had given them an indication of where the baby was located. So far, from what they knew, the embryo itself was located high enough in the womb for it to be safer, and the yolk sac- which Paul learned was supposed to provide nourishment to the fetus until about twelve weeks- had formed healthily, indicating that their child, in turn, was healthy. It was also confirmed that it wasn’t an ectopic pregnancy- to everyone’s absolute relief, and that Emma was carrying only one child (Paul wouldn’t have known what to do if they were having more than one). In addition, they’d gotten to actually see the machinery pick up on the fetus’ actual heartbeat, confirming that it wasn’t just something that Paul had just been imagining. Some nights, the baby’s heartbeat was all he had to hang onto. The chorus of Emma’s heartbeat and their child’s lulling him to sleep on nights when he was fraught with worry. </p><p>They’d actually gotten to <em> see </em>their baby for the first time. </p><p>At first, it had been strange...and uncomfortable, especially since they had to perform the ultrasound a... different way... because it had been so early, but over time, the two of them had been so entranced by what Phillipa showed them that it didn’t matter.</p><p>Phillipa had said that at this point, the baby was essentially a quarter of an inch long when the image had appeared on the monitor.</p><p>At first, all he’d seen was a blob of grey, something that reminded him too much of the pictures of Alice’s ultrasounds that Bill kept on his desk well into his daughter’s teenage years, until Phillipa pointed out a dark blob near the top of the picture, with a small smear of white floating close to the side. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Paul, Emma,” Phillipa smiled warmly from where she sat beside the monitor, “There’s your baby…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul grasped Emma’s hand tighter as they both leaned in closer to get a better look as Phillipa put markers on the screen to indicate that they were, indeed, looking at their child.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Holy shit,” Emma gasped, something of a laugh in her voice as she looked at the image closer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was so small.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course, on the monitor, it looked bigger than the sweet-pea size that Phillipa had indicated to them earlier on in the appointment, but in the vast expanse of grey and black, the small smear of white was so tiny. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You can’t really see much,” Phillipa reasoned, her voice as proper and official as usual, “But there should be some limb and cranial development that we should be seeing, and the balloon-looking thing beside it is the yolk sac...but from what I can see, it looks really healthy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul couldn’t stop himself from smiling so big as he looked at the small smear of white.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though it looked like someone had smeared chalk across a blackboard, he instantly was entranced by the sight of the small blob of light.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That was their child. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That was something he and Emma had both created. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So small and fragile...and yet so perfect.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You okay, nerd?” Emma laughed, squeezing his hand softly. He looked down at her. She looked so beautiful, so happy, so at peace. It was infectious in the way a sense of joy and peace spread over him, making him feel like everything was going to be okay. That maybe the world they were living in wasn’t going to come crashing down around them, after all.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could have lived in that moment forever.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” he nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine...just...happy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She laughed, “Jeez, if you’re this happy about a little blob, I can’t wait to see what a wreck you’ll be when it actually looks like a baby.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled, “Yeah...but it's our little blob.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Damn straight it is,” Emma laughed, smiling brighter than before, “We made that blob.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They made that blob.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That blob was theirs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was going to be a dad.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There were moments when he forgot that this was actually happening. That he’d had the honor of actually creating a human being with Emma Perkins. God, it wasn’t something that either of them had actively planned, but the excitement and joy that they both were feeling in that moment was one that he never wanted to lose sight of.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We won’t be able to determine the gender until about fourteen to eighteen weeks,” Phillipa remarked, “But you’ve already said you wanted it to be a surprise, so we won’t have to worry about that until the baby actually comes. Speaking of, judging from the growth that I’m seeing and what information you’ve already given me, I would have to say we’re looking at October eighth as a due date.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay…” he nodded, “Okay...October eighth...okay…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, he couldn’t wait for that day to come.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The day when he and Emma would meet that blob for real.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The day he’d see something that he and Emma had made together.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The day he’d look at a small human being and find himself excited to get to know them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d meet this small person, their baby, and be more than happy to watch as the years went past.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Years when this person would grow into their own skin, become their own person as they learned the lessons of life. He’d be happy to see any ounce of Emma that the child had to offer. This baby would be a perfect combination of them both. No matter what they looked like or chose to do with their lives, the baby would be theirs. A sign of their love and the home they’d built for themselves in one person.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He only wished he could give this child a better world to live in…to come into. With any hope, they’d defeat the forces of evil which sought to snuff out them, and they’d give the baby a world they could actually thrive in...but as of right now, those were just dreams. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pushed those bittersweet thoughts away, refusing to let them ruin the sweetness of this moment and smiled down at Emma. He couldn’t believe how blessed he was that he was given this. Moments like this where he was reminded that he was hers. Moments when he knew definitively that he wanted nothing more than to be hers for the rest of his life. Moments when he realized that she truly was his home. That she was his family.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as Phillipa continued to go over the details of their next few visits, talking about performing future diagnostic testing and what they’d need to do in order to ensure Emma and the baby’s total safety, and he was more than willing to comply with anything that the doctor suggested, only wanting them to be safe and healthy. His mind was a muddled mess of joy and excitement as he and Emma left Phillipa’s office hand in hand. She was using her prosthetic today, trying to be as mobile as she could while she still could get around efficiently. In addition to being pregnant, she was still in the process of adjusting to her status of being an amputee, so she walked somewhat shakily, but confidently as they made their way through the infirmary, planning to head back to the residential quarters to work from home since they’d gotten all of the office work done earlier.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Can you believe it?” he whispered, trying to avoid any more accidental reveals of Emma’s pregnancy until the three month period was up, “We actually saw it!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I mean...it didn’t look like anything,” Emma laughed, “But we did see it!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Just think, Em,” he whispered excitedly, “That’s our kid! We made that!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hell yeah we did,” Emma smiled, “Kudos to making up for lost time, right?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul blushed as she threw her head back in laughter at his flushed expression.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I just…” he sighed, unable to stop smiling, “I can’t believe we’re having a baby…” </em>
</p><p><em> “Excuse me?” she whirled on him with her eyebrows raised, “No, sir...I’m having a baby...you just got to do the fun part...and it was... </em> really <em> fun, I’ll give you that much-” </em></p><p>
  <em> He flushed again at her bluntness, as if he wasn’t already used to it, “Em…”  </em>
</p><p><em> “But I get to deal with actually pushing the human thing out of my lady parts,” she continued, “So... </em> I <em> am having a baby.” </em></p><p><em> “ </em> Our <em> baby…” he offered under his breath. </em></p><p>
  <em> She looked like she was about to come up with a snarky come back before her gaze softened and a soft smile covered her face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Our baby,” she affirmed, squeezing his hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’d been so close to the residential sector, passing by the labs and the entryway to the information department, when- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>BEEP! BEEP!</em> </b>
</p><p>
  
  <b>
    <em>Code Red. Code Red. All civilians report to their designated emergency area. All personnel into positions. This is not a drill. Code Red. Code Red. All civilians report to their designated emergency area. All personnel into positions. This is not a drill.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> </b>
  <em>They could only share one horrified glance before they’d started running. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’d looked at her with so much terror in that moment, all of the peace and joy that they’d felt throughout their meeting with Dr. Kirk was gone. </p><p>And then they were running for their lives.</p><p>Their lives and their child’s.</p><p>Her hand was tightly clasped in his as they ran, the both of them desperately searching for one of the refuge checkpoints, or even a safe space where they could hide until it blew over, but everything was abandoned, and the panic that they’d seen as people retreated to their areas was beyond anything he’d thought people capable of. </p><p>They weren’t moving as fast as they could. With Emma not entirely used to much fast-paced movement on her prosthetic, it was taking everything within him not to stop them both and find a place to hide right there, but they had to keep moving. They had to keep going. </p><p>They ran through the offices, trying to find an access point to the refuge centers, but given how almost everything was abandoned it was more than likely that all of the refuge areas were abandoned. They didn’t even know what it was that had gotten into the base, but he did know that he wanted to keep Emma and their child as far away from whatever it was.</p><p>“C’mon,” he panted, holding Emma’s hand tighter, “We can make it…”</p><p>Emma let out a small cry of pain as her running became slightly more staggered, sending a dagger of a unique form of pain through his heart. They should have been safe here. They’d shouldn’t; have had to fear for their lives at every corner...for the life of their child. He tried his best not to focus on the panic that was running through his veins and rather on Emma and the baby’s heartbeat. Both were elevated, making his own heart rate feel like a kickdrum in his chest.  </p><p>They were almost to the next checkpoint where they’d check for a place to hide, when the crackle of their communicators blared through the room, the weary voice of John McNamara made them both come to a small stop, Emma leaning against Paul as her false leg almost gave out, her breathing ragged.</p><p>
  <em> “All units be on a high alert, there’s a subject out of containment,”  </em>
</p><p>There was a moment of static through the transponder, but Paul was certain that he could hear John’s ragged breathing as he went on, maybe even the sound of the violence that surrounded them.</p><p>
  <em> The subject’s name is Ted Spankoffski. The subject should be considered armed and dangerous, we’ve already got a man down...there’s also a potential breach on sublevel 36D near the citadel chambers, requesting backup to investigate.”  </em>
</p><p>He glanced down at Emma to see how pale she’d suddenly become, her breathing was going ragged as her whole body shook in fear as the horror behind the statement. They both sat there in silence for a moment. </p><p>“He’ll come for us…” she whispered, her eyes wide as the panic made itself known, “He’s going to come for us, Paul…He’s gonna kill us”</p><p>He shook his head, refusing to believe it, “No...no...I won’t let him.”</p><p>Her hand trembled in his as terrified tears ran down her face, “We can’t make it, Paul...we can’t…” </p><p>“No...no, Em, sweetheart,” he cupped her face gently, desperately. Suddenly, he was unable to stop himself from glancing down at her neck, at the area where the bruises from Ted’s last attempt on her life hadn’t entirely faded. He sank to the floor with her, glancing around their surroundings. They had somehow managed to stumble into one of the main information control rooms. He held her close “We’re gonna make it...you hear me?” </p><p>She shook her head, a weak, exhausted sob leaving her. His heart ached at how defeated she looked. She looked so defeated and tired. So unlike the Emma he knew.</p><p>He shouldn’t have been surprised, not after what Ted had done.  </p><p>She never really wanted to talk about what Ted had done to her. Any time he’d tried to bring it up, or he’d find her anxiously playing with her hands or swinging her feet when the name came up, she would shut the conversation down quickly, instead settling to just have him hold her, leaving so much pain unsaid. She’d even managed to avoid bringing it up by talking about the baby more, which was a lot easier for the both of them to talk about, given how excited they both were. However many avoidance techniques Emma employed, Paul woke up with her every time she’d wake up, like Ted was there, strangling her all over again.</p><p>He used his thumbs to tenderly wipe away her tears, “Emma...Emma, sweetheart, look at me...please…”</p><p>Through her hoarse breathing, she looked up at him slowly. </p><p>“We’re gonna make it, okay?” he panted, “You hear me? I-I’m not gonna let him get us...I won’t let him hurt you again, you hear me? I promise...I swear to you Em, he won’t hurt you or the baby...I won’t let him.”</p><p>She let out a small sob and leaned up against him. </p><p>“I won’t let him get you,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “We’ve made it this far, Em...okay? We’ve made it this far...we just need to go a little further, yeah? Okay…?” </p><p>She was still crying as she held herself closer to him. </p><p>“Hey,” he whispered, holding her head, “We can make it, Em...we can make it...I promise…Okay?”</p><p>She looked up at him, her eyes tired and pleading with him. He loved her so much. He didn’t want to let her down. He’d do anything to protect her and the child she was carrying. </p><p>“Forever and always, Em,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair, “We can make it, okay?” </p><p>Reluctantly and tearfully she weakly nodded and he pulled her to her feet. </p><p>He was determined to make good on his promise. He comfortingly squeezed her hand and hugged her close before breaking from it and leading her towards the next door.</p><p>They started running again, holding one another’s hands tighter. </p><p>“The kitchen’s pretty sealed,” she called, her voice ragged and hoarse as they ran, sounding more determined than before, “We can lay low in there if the refuge area is already sealed.”</p><p>“Good idea,” he called back, leading her at a faster, more determined pace to where the rations were prepared, praying silently to whatever God that may have existed that they’d find safety there. </p><p>A few minutes later, he threw open the swinging doors to the kitchen and quickly led Emma to the far corner, where they hoped they could find some safety and cover from whatever it was that was threatening the nature of the base. </p><p>They collapsed to the cool tiled floor, gathering one another in each other’s arms and holding tightly. He could still hear Emma and the baby’s heartbeat well enough, which elicited a sigh of relief. </p><p>He exhaled sharply, holding Emma closer, just to affirm that she was in his arms, that she was okay, “What a day, huh?” </p><p>Emma let out a tearful laugh, “I hate you…”</p><p>They sat there in silence for a few more moments, the silence of the kitchen almost eerie enough to make him want to vomit. From where they were crouched, he couldn’t see much. He couldn’t even see the door they’d used to get into the kitchens. All he could see was the shelving for one of the islands that extended its length down the entire room, blocking anything useful from sight. They’d been sitting there for only a few moments before he gently tried to remove himself from Emma’s grasp. </p><p>“Don’t go,” she whispered, holding on tighter to him.</p><p>“I need to check to make sure we weren’t followed, Em,” he whispered, trying desperately to suppress how scared he really was. He couldn’t tell which of them was shaking more, “I’m not leaving, I promise…”</p><p>Shakily, and reluctantly, she let go of his arm, allowing him to slowly stand up and examine the kitchen, trying to make sure that nobody else had followed them in the kitchen. </p><p>He’d never considered himself a particularly brave person. </p><p>As he stood there, looking around the kitchen, he could feel his legs shake beneath him. He would have sworn he looked like one of those old-timey cartoons when a character was walking around a suspicious-looking house. He glanced back down at Emma, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of him as he took a few steps around the kitchen to make sure he was seeing everything correctly. Just the sight of her, however, was enough to make him feel braver. While he wasn’t necessarily the bravest or the strongest of people, he would be as brave as he could be for her. When he was with her, she made him feel stronger. She made him feel like he was capable of things that he’d never been capable of before. He’d do anything in his power to live up to that. For her.</p><p>He breathed a small sigh of relief.</p><p>“I think we’re-”</p><p>He was cut off by a sharp stab of pain at the back of his neck. A bony limb wrapped around his neck as a cool burning feeling spreading up his spine, making dots dance in his vision. He could hear Emma scream something, but he couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart which echoed in his ears.</p><p>“Your turn,” a horrifyingly familiar voice whispered in his ear.</p><p>Ted. </p><p>He’d found them. </p><p>He’d failed Emma. </p><p><em> “Emma, run!” </em> he gasped out, the strangled words barely making it past his lips as Ted held on to him tighter.</p><p>He let out a cry of pain as the cool burning feeling didn’t cease. He tried to search for Emma as Ted didn’t let go of him. Maybe the fact that Ted was preoccupied with him meant that she could get away. He couldn’t describe the wave of fear that suddenly crashed over him as whatever it was that was stabbing into the base of his neck was pushed further in. He tried to keep himself from screaming, praying that Emma had the sense to run. Hoping that fate had given her a chance at life while Ted finished him off. </p><p>
  <em> Oh, God… </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Ted was going to kill him.  </em>
</p><p>A wave of despair crashed over him as he realized he’d never get to tell Emma how much he loved her ever again. </p><p>He wouldn’t get to wake up beside her.</p><p>He wouldn’t get to help her through the later months of her pregnancy. </p><p>
  <em> He wouldn’t get to meet their kid.  </em>
</p><p>Still, he found solace in the fact that they’d get to live. </p><p>If he died today, he’d die knowing that he’d given Emma and their child a chance at life. </p><p>He would die a happy man. </p><p>Terrified, but satisfied in knowing that he’d died protecting them. </p><p>Suddenly, Ted let out a roar of pain and dropped him, sending him clattering to the ground, the object stabbing into his neck still present as he hit the ground with a hiss of pain. </p><p>Through his blurred vision, he could suddenly see splatters of red splash across the tiled floor as the blurry figure of Emma was stabbing something-presumably a big kitchen knife- into Ted’s leg, making the man crumple to the ground as red gushed down his leg. Using her good leg, Emma landed a solid kick to Ted’s groin, sending him stumbling backward and falling to the ground, howling in pain. </p><p>Emma’s eyes fell on him then. She dropped the knife and scrambled toward him, Ted’s blood spattered across her face and clothes. Muttering panicked words under her breath, she gathered Paul into her arms, terrified tears dripping down her face as she held him close, her hands drifting over  the object still jutting out of his neck. He instantly focused his pain-blurred mind, desperately listening for-</p><p>Thump <em> thump </em> thump <em> thump </em> thump <em> thump </em></p><p>He breathed a sigh of relief and hissed in pain again. </p><p>“I told you to run…” he whispered, wincing as he shifted in Emma’s arms, the pain in his neck still burning up and down his spine. </p><p>“Like hell I was going to leave you here,” she whispered, wiping away the tears and blood from her face. Though her words were determined, her breath was still ragged and panicked, “I don’t know what to...should I pull it out?” </p><p>“If you can,” he whispered, gritting his teeth at the soreness and the chill that suddenly overtook him. God, his eyes felt so heavy, “It hurts, Em…” he slurred, almost falling into sleep.</p><p>“N-No, NO!” she shouted suddenly, slapping him lightly on the face, “Stay awake, Paul! Stay with me, baby!” Tears dripped down from her face onto his own skin as she examined him closely, her hands shaking as they handled him with care.</p><p>“You and the baby are okay,” he choked out, fighting against the pain and the urge to fall asleep, “That’s all that matters.”</p><p>“You’re gonna be fine, Paul,” she whispered, her fingers closing around the strange sharp object. He groaned in pain, slightly thrashing against the wave of cold agony that spread throughout his body once more. He buried his face in her leg as she tried to calm him down and hold him still, “Hold on… hold on…I know it hurts...shh...I know, it’s gonna be okay, Paul.”</p><p>Through his blurred vision, he could see her grapple at a white towel that was hanging off of the counter. She brought it close to his neck with one hand, while her other closed around the object, “Okay, Paul...three...two…”</p><p>Before she got to one, she pulled it out of his neck and threw it aside, quickly applying pressure to the area with the towel. He muffled his cries of pain into her shoulder as she pulled him close, her own shaky breaths and sobs seeming to vibrate through them both. She held him tighter, the both of them scooting slightly away from the groaning figure of Ted, his blood spilling out across the kitchen floor. </p><p>He tiredly glanced up at Emma, whose tears were almost washing away the blood spatters across her face. He kept his focus on her heartbeat as her eyes kept darting over to Ted, who suddenly went stiff and slack against the floor. They could still hear his ragged breathing, but judging from the lack of movement, he could guess that he was out cold. </p><p>“Hey,” he whispered, his voice suddenly sounding hoarse and weak, “Don’t look at him...look at me, Em. Look at me…” </p><p>Her eyes turned to him as more tears fell from her eyes. She seemed to hold onto him tighter, and regardless of how exhausted he suddenly was, he reciprocated her embrace.</p><p>Suddenly, the door swung open and they both stiffened, ready to protect one another in any way they could. </p><p><em> “Paul?! Emma?!” </em> the scratchy voice of the Professor was panicked as it echoed throughout the kitchen, <em> “Are you in here?!?”  </em></p><p>Paul had never been more happy to hear that man’s voice.</p><p>Emma let out a shuddery sob, “We’re here! We’re here!” </p><p>The professor rounded the corner, his eyes widening when they saw the bleeding Ted and the weak form of Paul in Emma’s arms, crumpled against the cabinets of the kitchens.</p><p>“Good God!” The man exclaimed, rushing forward, “Don’t tell me the villain got to Paul!” </p><p>“He did…” Emma’s voice was hoarse as the man placed his gun down and knelt beside them to assist them, “He put something in his neck...I don’t know what it was…” </p><p>“I’ll call for medical backup,” the professor spoke clearly, “Are you both alright?”</p><p>Emma didn’t answer, and Paul weakley squeezed her hand to try and provide some form of comfort. </p><p>Hidgens glanced back over to Ted before giving the two of them a soft look, “That was a stupid question, forgive me...but you two are safe now.”</p><p>Emma didn’t seem to believe it as she held Paul closer. Paul held onto her tighter, still not wanting to trust him. </p><p>Hidgens scooted over to Ted, examining the man closely as he spoke quietly into his transponder, addressing John directly from the sound of it. Paul fought against losing consciousness as he tried to focus on providing Emma with as much comfort as he could. Gently, he brought her hand to her lips and kissed it softly, trying to use his hand to weakley wipe some more tears and blood away, the sound of their baby’s heartbeat calming him the longer he stared at Emma.</p><p>“My God!” the old man suddenly yelled, making them both jump again. </p><p>“What?” Emma whispered, her voice tired and hoarse, “What is it?” </p><p>Hidgens looked back at the two of them, his eyes wide, “Whatever it was he attacked Paul with…he...”</p><p>“What?” Paul could hear the panic in Emma’s voice rise again as his own anxiety rose like the tide within him, “He what?!”</p><p>Hidgens was pale when he turned back to them. </p><p>“He injected himself with it.” </p><p>---</p><p>Webby smiled as she heard the chatter of panicked voices, all of them discussing the calamity she and her siblings had caused.</p><p>They were like ants.</p><p>They were all ants in a farm which scrambled desperately for survival beneath the earth. </p><p>How they thrilled her.</p><p>Her siblings had been pouting that they’d not been able to shed more blood in one day, but she’d assured them that the attack from today would be one of many. </p><p>Soon they’d spill more blood than they knew what to do with. </p><p>They’d have many small victories that would lead to their permanent victory. </p><p>Soon they’d have it all. </p><p>It was as she told them before. </p><p>To win was a game of waiting. </p><p>And Webby was the most patient Being alive. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...that was a lot.</p><p>So, the Barker AND Cross in one section, huh?</p><p>Becky is a badass nurse. No I won't be taking any criticism.</p><p>Also, Bill's blind now...wonder what that means for him.</p><p>So, the list of six victims is as follows...(in an order that may or may not be significant, who knows?)<br/>-Lucy<br/>-Bill<br/>-Paul<br/>-Ted<br/>-Tom<br/>-Lex<br/>Wonder what Ted did to them?</p><p>At least the Paulkins Baby is still alive and kicking (well, not kicking yet, since there's still a whole lot of time before that first kick is felt), and we got some small snapshot of parental paulkins happiness before both Paul and Emma experienced Trauma™ </p><p>What is Webby’s game here?</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos to let me know what your theories are (or if you even have some Paulkins Baby Theories such as gender, name, features...etc)! I really appreciate you guys for reading this VERY LONG chapter!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Once again, I am very sorry that this one ended up being so long. I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!!!</p><p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. I Can Dream, And Then I Bleed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The aftermath of shit hitting the fan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well...this one was supposed to be a nice smaller chapter and it ended up being a similar length to the last one, so I’m really sorry about the length.</p><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song “Holding Poison” by the Foo Fighters.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: lots of medical stuff, fear, blood, mentions of stabbing and attempted murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: February 7th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean there’s nothing wrong with them?” Xander sighed.</p><p>”I never said that,” Doctor Clementine McMurray sighed, looking exhausted from the day’s events, “I just said that their blood panels revealed nothing unusual. There were no abnormalities detected anywhere, and minus the fatigue and blackout, with the exception of Mr. Matthews, everyone seems perfectly healthy.”</p><p>They were standing outside of the makeshift quarantine ward where all of the patients who’d been attacked by Ted (including Ted, as it turned out) were being kept. </p><p>The remainder of the day had been a strenuous process for the operatives that weren’t injured or dead, who went with John to survey every single level of the base to ensure that there were no straggling members of the cult that they’d discovered was under the leadership of the “Watcher” wreaking havoc elsewhere on the base. Once that was determined and all of the bodies, both PEIP Personnel and zealots alike, had been moved to the mortuary, the remaining personnel that was out of hiding went and began to lift the lockdown, allowing the people who’d been able to evacuate to more secure refuge areas to return to their residential areas. It was a tedious process that had taken many hours, which of course, had led to them being awake into what was now a quarter till midnight. Because there had been many people injured in the attempted siege, their doctors and medical staffing and availability had been stretched thin. Because the infirmary had been clogged up with as many people as had been injured, they’d had to move the six people who’d been attacked by Ted to one of the quarantine wards in order to use as much space as they could. </p><p>Once the rush and panic from earlier in the day had died down, they’d finally been able to have a complete analysis done on blood samples taken from the six people.</p><p>Xander had been wondering where Hidgens had gone off to once he and John had adjourned to the infirmary to attempt to update Becky and the remaining medical personnel on the situation’s progress and survey the amounts of people that had been injured and hadn’t made it to the refuge stations in time. For a moment, Xander had forgotten that the man had been with John, to begin with, once they’d made it to the infirmary. </p><p>It wasn’t until they’d intercepted a message from the old man, a desperate refrain talking about how he’d located Paul, Emma, and Ted, that he remembered the old man was a rather important person to keep in mind. When the old man reported that Paul had been attacked by Ted, and Ted had also injected himself with whatever it was that he’d apparently attacked the others with, they’d sent what little medical backup that they could and found Hidgens applying pressure to a major stab wound on his right leg. Emma was propping up a barely-conscious Paul, and applying pressure to his neck while being covered in blood.</p><p>Dr. Kirk had almost immediately taken Emma aside, offering an explanation to Paul that she wanted to make sure she or the baby hadn’t been hurt. It had been hard to separate the two of them but after several assurances from Paul that everything would be okay (a lie, everyone knew...but it was one they all had to believe) Emma went with Phillipa, while Paul went with Becky and Dr. McMurray, looking like he was six seconds from passing out. Ted, in the meantime, had been taken into surgery with Dr. Hallmark, to treat the knife wound that Emma had given him in an attempt to get him away from Paul. </p><p>There were six victims in total.</p><p>The order of the attacks, judging from what they could see on the security footage as well as what little they knew already it was understood that Tom was attacked first, followed by the attack of Lucy less than a minute later, then Lex a few seconds after that, and then Bill approximately fifty-six seconds after that, and then Paul. However, the window between Bill and Paul was much longer than the typical window between attacks.</p><p>He had made a mental list of all that he’d known while Dr. McMurray did her best to run a complete blood analysis. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><ol>
<li><em>A breach occurred on the sublevel with the water filtration system.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>The breach was the result of a group of twenty-seven zealots under the command of the “Watcher” the cyclops-like sibling of Webby and one of the Lords in Black.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>At the moment of the breach, Ted Spankoffski, while under the supervision of Doctor Kamaria Abadi was questioned.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Spankoffski was mostly unresponsive to questioning.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Twenty seconds after the breach occurred (according to security footage), in a display of power the man was incapable of beforehand, Spankoffski broke free of his bonds and threw the four other occupants of the room against the wall, killing two nurses and causing extreme damage to the medical equipment in the room.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Approximately three minutes and twenty-seven seconds after the breach occurred a response team under the command of Tom Houston reported to the level of the breach in order to respond to the issue, meeting up with General John McNamara in order to respond appropriately to the attack.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Less than a minute later, Tom was attacked by Ted Spankoffski (witnessed by John) with an object resembling a syringe that was plunged into the neck. Houston was able to remove it and throw itside.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Within the next four minutes subsequent attacks occurred upon Lucy Stockworth inside her classroom after she’d gotten her charges to safety, Lex Foster- who was attempting to get to safety, and Bill Woodward, who hadn’t yet evacuated to the refuge area.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>All of the above victims demonstrated a lack of consciousness and an elevated heartbeat.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>The fourth documented victim, Bill Woodward, was conscious for a few moments before being sent into a panic. Becky Barnes documented no pupil miosis, which correlated to Woodward’s claims that he lost his eyesight. This was not exhibited in the other three victims (later five)<br/></em></li>
<li><em>A little over three minutes following the attack on Bill Woodward, Emma Perkins and Paul Matthews were attacked by Spankoffski.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Spankoffski previously attacked Emma Perkins in her own labs as a result of claims that she murdered him.  This claim was often propagated through previous questioning sessions held by Dr. Kamaria Abadi, Captain Thomas Houston, and even at a time John McNamara. Though his attempt on Emma’s life failed, he still claimed that Emma had killed him and was aided by her partner, Paul Matthews.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Paul Matthews was the primary victim of the second attack on him and Emma, as Spankoffski stabbed him in the back of the neck with the same kind of object as he did with the previous four victims.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Emma stabbed Ted in order to get Paul away from Spankoffski and removed the object from Paul’s neck.<br/></em></li>
<li><em>While Emma tended to Paul, Ted injected himself with the same object (which appeared to be some form of a syringe, as reported by Henry Hidgens, who retrieved Paul and Emma).<br/></em></li>
<li><em>Ted, like Houston, Foster, Woodward, and Stockworth, was unconscious.<br/></em></li>
<li>
<em>Out of all six total victims, Bill Woodward is the only one to have exhibited the sudden onset of blindness</em>.</li>
<li><em>Paul was the only one to stay conscious out of the six victims.</em></li>
<li><em>Five out of the six victims (the only exception being Spankoffski) regained consciousness and reported feeling physically fine. </em></li>
<li>
<em>The “syringes” that all of the six victims were injected with, all crumbled before analysis could be performed</em>.  </li>
</ol><p> </p><p> </p><p>Now, according to Doctor McMurray, he had a twenty-first fact to add to the list.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>21. Blood analysis revealed nothing abnormal in the bloodstream.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So, you mean you found nothing?” He asked, “Nothing out of the ordinary? Nothing life-threatening?”</p><p>“No,” Dr. McMurray shook her head, “Minus the loss of sight in Mr. Woodward, I can’t think of anything that would be exceedingly harmful...then again, we haven’t performed any diagnostic scanning yet, with all of the people who are currently in line for MRI’s and X-rays after the attack...but I found no toxins in the bloodstream. No indications that any of them would be in any danger at all.”</p><p>Xander glanced through the door, his heart aching at the sight of the five people (it would have been six, had Spankoffski not still been in surgery for the wound to his leg).</p><p>Tom had been the first out of the four unconscious victims to wake up. He’d been confused and discombobulated, at first, but he’d been compliant in answering all of the doctor’s questions, only asking for updates about the safety of his son, and Becky. Becky, who’d been working in the ward, had been able to put his worry at ease, and now the man remained staring at the sheets on his bed, as more nurses worked around them. </p><p>Lex had been the next to wake up, much more panicked than Tom had been. It had taken several assurances from both Paul, Tom, and Becky that she, Hannah, and Ethan were safe, for her to calm down. Xander felt sorry for the young girl. Lex was a teenager. She didn’t deserve to worry about the lives of her sister and her boyfriend to the extent that she did. Since birth, it seemed, Lex had been thrust into a world where she existed in survival mode, always worrying about where her next meal was going to come from. Add Hannah and Ethan to the equation and you would find that Lex was truly a survivor like the best of them. While she definitely looked more panicked than the others, she’d taken the others’ word for it and calmed down, frequently asking questions about when she’d be able to see her sister and Ethan. </p><p>Lucy, of course, had been next and immediately began to ask questions about the children she’d been watching. She’d claimed to remember placing them all in their refuge area, and barricading her classroom door, but not much after she’d retrieved the firearm she’d been authorized to use only in the event of an emergency. Once she’d been reassured by Becky and Ray Ventor that the children were okay, she seemed to relax and be compliant with all of the medical tests that Dr. McMurray ordered for them, since they still had no idea what Ted had done to them.</p><p>Bill had been the last one to wake up.. Since regaining consciousness, Bill had reported a loss of sight, which Clementine confirmed upon further examination. Whether or not Bill’s sudden blindness was permanent or not, was still under speculation, but Paul had immediately sat down beside his friend to provide what comfort he could. That had been over an hour ago and Paul was still holding his apparently blind friend something to hold onto, at the very least providing the man with a sense of familiarity.</p><p> Since nobody was allowed in the ward to see them yet, Bill’s daughter, a young woman named Alice, had been holed up in the waiting room, along with Emma, Tim, Ethan, and Hannah, all of whom were anxious to see them. </p><p>“You’re sure?” Xander asked again. </p><p>Clementine sighed, “Yes, Xander...and I’m not just saying it because it’s an exhausting day...if there was a toxin in their bloodstream, none of the labs picked up on it. I can do a few more draws just to be sure, but from what I can tell...the blood analysis says there’s nothing wrong with them.”</p><p>“What about diagnostic scanning?” Xander asked, glancing back at the collection of exhausted victims. </p><p>“I’m planning to run Woodward through them first,” Clementine nodded, “His vision was reportedly perfect before this, so I need to make sure there’s no damage to his brain. But of course, we’re still running operatives and civilians through X-Rays and CT Scans so there’s no telling when I’ll be able to start.”</p><p>“What about the others?” he asked. </p><p>“From what I can tell,” she turned to face the patients, “The only common symptom between all six was a severe amount of fatigue...the fact that Matthews remained conscious is peculiar. Spankoffski is still in surgery, so I’ve not gotten the chance to analyze him completely, but the others all demonstrated fatigue.”</p><p>“And there are no other symptoms?” Xander was extremely confused, “No nausea? Vomiting? No gruesome stuff?” </p><p>Clementine shook her head, “None so far. I’m planning on keeping them overnight for observation, just to be sure.”</p><p>Xander chuckled under his breath, “Have fun explaining that to their loved ones.”</p><p>The astute woman nodded, “Phillipa suggested having Perkins stay with Barnes and Tim Houston for the night. Wouldn’t say why, though...but she said you’d understand.”</p><p>It did make sense in Xander’s mind. After such stressful events as these, it made sense that Emma would stay with someone else until Paul was released. Keeping an eye on Emma for both the safety of her and her child. The fact that Emma hadn’t miscarried was a miracle in itself, and everyone on base who knew of her pregnancy intended to keep it that way.</p><p>“I’ll tell her,” Xander sighed, knowing that Emma would likely object to leaving Paul here, “She won’t like it, but at least she won’t be alone. Tim probably needs his aunt, too. Especially after an event like this.”</p><p>Clementine smiled softly, but sadly, “I wish I could give them a better answer than this. The fact that we know next to nothing is-” </p><p>“Fucking frustrating?” he suggested, rubbing at his temple to ward off a small headache that was building itself up. </p><p>Clementine chuckled, “Well...that’s a very <em> animated </em>way to put it...but yes.”</p><p>“I get it,” he leaned tiredly against the wall. </p><p>The whole day had spiraled out of control so fast. </p><p>One minute, he’d been trying to get through to Spankoffski, and the next...he found himself thrown up against the wall. How wonderful. </p><p>He felt slightly useless in knowing that he could have done nothing to stop Spankoffski...even though he still didn’t quite understand what had happened. All he knew is that several people...some of PEIP’s finest...were now dead. </p><p>And he had no answers. </p><p>It was his job to find the answers. To solve all the problems they were presented with. </p><p>Right now he had nothing.</p><p>Zip. </p><p>Zilch. </p><p>Zero.</p><p>All he had was a bunch of superfluous accounts that seemed to float around in his mind and made no sense all the while.</p><p>He was beyond frustrated. </p><p>The redhead’s face contorted into a frown, making Xander look in the direction of her gaze just in time to see Hidgens approaching, looking tired but determined. </p><p>“I’ve just seen the loved ones of the victims,” Hidgens sighed, “They’d anxious to know what you know.”</p><p>“Which isn’t much,” Xander muttered. </p><p>“Phillipa just finished looking over Emma,” Hidgens muttered quietly, “You might want to recommend a great deal of rest for her...given, well...you know.”</p><p>Xander eyed the old man suspiciously. What did he mean? There was no way he knew...right? Of course, Xander had blown Paul and Emma’s secret when it came to the last briefing, but there was no way that Hidgens could have known. Xander decided to play dumb.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asked, turning away from Clementine so he didn’t accidentally reveal anything. Lucky for him, she seemed to be preoccupied with examining charts and not really paying attention to the Professor. </p><p>Hidgens sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Lee, don’t play daft with me… we need to ensure that both Emma and Paul are safe. They’ve pissed off some of the most powerful beings in the universe, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about...especially when they’re in a...sensitive state, right now.” </p><p>Xander shrugged, putting on his best poker face, “Haven’t the foggiest, but we know Paul and Emma can take care of themselves-”</p><p>“You can stop playing dumb, Lee,” Hidgens sighed, “I know you know.”</p><p>“Know what?” Xander was getting tired of the old man’s antics. </p><p>Hidgens sighed and lowered his voice, his steely eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. </p><p>“That she’s pregnant.” </p><p>Well...so much for keeping that secret. </p><p>Xander gritted his teeth, placing a firm hand on the professor’s arm. He didn’t trust the man. Not yet. If he knew of Emma’s pregnancy, who was to say that the man wouldn’t use that to his advantage? Who was to say that the Lords in Black wouldn’t?</p><p>“How do <em> you </em>know?” Xander growled lowly. </p><p>“How do I know?” Hidgens repeated the question, letting out a low, bitter laugh, “Lee… Jane and I saw this coming before you had even made it out of my bunker. Before Paul even knew she was still alive.”</p><p>“You knew…” Xander repeated, “And you didn’t tell anyone? You didn’t think to mention that you already know that sensitive...intimate detail?”</p><p>“<em> Certainly not </em>,” The Professor grumbled, his eyes still darting around, “To do that would be to jeopardize everyone’s safety.” </p><p>Xander studied the man. There was some sort of seriousness in the man’s eyes, something that indicated to him that the man wasn’t lying. </p><p>“What else do you know,” Xander whispered, glaring at the man, “What aren’t you telling us?” </p><p>“I know that you keep trying to hold secret briefings away from me, because you don’t trust me,” the man growled, “I know you know next to nothing about what’s happening, and you’re scared but you won’t admit it. I know that your experiences with the demon that wore my skin make me seem all the more suspicious to you…”</p><p>He trailed off, biting down on his lower lip, “But I do know that you need me...so whether or not you can trust me doesn’t matter. You need to keep me around.” </p><p>Xander against any bitter retort that was building on his tongue. </p><p>Despite everything in his soul which wanted to scream out against it, the old man was correct. He understood the Black and White in ways that nobody else did. When all things were considered, they <em> did </em>need him. No matter how much they hated it. No matter how much history they had with the old man’s face, they needed his help in this war. If they ever wanted to see the sky again, they’d need to at the very least keep the Professor on their side. </p><p>He sighed deeply before turning to enter the ward, “You do your job, Professor. I’ll do mine.”</p><p>With that, he left the old man in the hallway, praying the Professor truly was who he said he was. </p><p>If he wasn’t, all would be lost. </p><p>And Xander wouldn’t know what to do. </p><p>---</p><p>”Do you think they’ll let us see the others?”</p><p>Paul sighed and looked down at his friend, who was lying flat on his back in the hospital bed. </p><p>“I don’t know, Bill,” he sighed, squeezing his friend’s hand comfortingly. </p><p>He’d been sitting in that uncomfortable chair for over an hour now, holding Bill's hand since he’d woken up. </p><p>When he and Emma had been retrieved by Hidgens, the last thing he’d wanted to do was find out that there was more than one attack like his. That Ted had harmed more than just him. </p><p>Unfortunately, that fear had been realized, and he was separated from Emma once again. </p><p>The first person he’d noticed when Dr. McMurray ushered him into the ward was Lucy, who looked like she was sleeping rather fitfully on a cot between two gurneys. Then he’d noticed Tom, also asleep, with two nurses gathering blood from his arm. Then he’d noticed Lex...God, Lex. She was just a kid, and she looked just as bad as Lucy and Tom. Paul couldn’t bear it. And then, the final kick in the ass had come once he’d laid eyes on Bill. </p><p>Bill had been attacked too. </p><p>It had both infuriated and terrified him to see his best friend like that. </p><p>Why had Bill been attacked? </p><p>Bill was probably the kindest man he’d ever met in his life. Bill didn’t deserve to be dragged into something like this.  Bill had a daughter he cared more than anything about and a life of his own that deserved to be lived outside of the world corrupted by the Black and White. He deserved to watch his daughter grow up, make a life for herself. Bill might have been far from perfect, but he was still innocent in all of this. </p><p>Then, when Bill had woken up and started panicking, Paul noticed how Bill’s pupils didn’t expand or contract anymore. He didn’t look directly at Paul the way that he used to. There was a certain...blankness, in the way Bill looked at him. </p><p>Then he’d said it. </p><p>“I-I can’t see...I can’t see…”</p><p>And Doctor McMurray confirmed it. </p><p>Bill had been blinded. </p><p>So, all Paul could do to help was assure the man of his presence, letting his best friend know that he was there. That he wasn’t going to abandon him. Giving him some sort of familiarity in a world of madness. Nevermind that they were both patients in a hospital ward, with no idea what had happened to them after a coworker had attacked him. </p><p>Paul felt almost <em> hilariously </em> unqualified for this situation.</p><p>God, where was Emma? </p><p>She’d been scared to death when they were separated, Phillipa examining her to make sure that the baby was okay and Emma was in no danger. He’d not heard anything of Emma since he’d seen her disappear into another wing with Phillipa and he was worried beyond imagination. His fear told him that any second someone would walk in and tell him that she miscarried...or that something had gone wrong. He couldn’t focus well enough to find Emma’s heartbeat...or the baby’s heartbeat, and he was left terrified. He knew that Emma and the baby’s health took precedence over anything in his life, but he hadn’t wanted her to go. He’d wished they’d at the very least allowed them to stay together. What if he ended up having to be quarantined, and not be able to see her until they could figure out what Ted had done to them? What if the last time he’d seen her it was as Phillipa was leading her away, leaving him with a group of people who’d been attacked for reasons unknown? What if Ted had done something that wouldn’t end well? What if Ted had sentenced them to death and he’d die before he got to meet his child?</p><p>In some ways, holding Bill’s hand helped keep him somewhat calm. It prevented him from losing his mind to the fear and worry that seemed to gnaw away at him. </p><p>“What’s wrong, Paul?” Bill asked, his eyes staring at nothing as he lay there. </p><p>Paul sighed, swallowing down the knot that was building at the back of his throat the longer he worried about Emma and their child. He rubbed at his eyes, “What?...N-Nothing…”</p><p>“C’mon, Paul,” Bill sniffed, attempting to keep himself calm despite the impossibility of his new situation, “You have that voice…” </p><p>“What voice?” Paul chuckled lightly, trying to sound at the very least optimistic for his friend.</p><p>Bill chuckled, “The ‘I don’t want to worry Bill, so I’ll lie about being fine’ voice...what’s wrong?” </p><p>Paul swallowed again as Emma’s blood-spattered face appeared in his mind. She hadn’t stopped shaking since she’d stabbed Ted in order to get him away from him. The memory of how much fear he’d felt in that moment alone was enough to make him feel sick. Then, Emma, brave, wonderful, fearless Emma, had stabbed Ted, pulled the weird sharp object from his neck and helped get Paul to safety, all the while being a pregnant amputee who was scared out of her wits. When Phillipa had come to separate them, Emma hadn’t wanted to leave him, just as he hadn’t wanted to leave her, but he’d had to do his best to ensure that Emma went with Kirk. No matter how much he’d wanted to stay with her, just remembering that they’d both survived and they were both okay, he knew it had to happen. It only worried him more, because he didn’t know where she was. </p><p>Before all of this, he never used to worry this much about Emma...or himself for that matter. Emma was the most capable woman he’d ever known...but since she’d nearly been killed by Ted, and they found out about the baby, he couldn’t help but worry every single time she was out of his sight. </p><p>“I’m just…” he muttered, “I’m just worried about Emma...that’s all.”</p><p>Bill let a small chuckle loose, “Paul, you’re the one who’s been stabbed with an unidentified object...and you’re worried about Emma?” </p><p><em> If only you knew why, </em> Paul thought to himself, trying not to be bitter at Bill’s sudden lack of tact. </p><p>Bill’s face softened, as if he realized the issue behind his words, “I’m sorry, Paul...I know how scared you are of losing her…” he bit down on his lower lip, “After losing her once before...I can’t imagine…” </p><p>“It’s not just…” Paul began, wincing slightly at the memory of the grief that had held him down when he’d thought Emma dead, “It’s not just that…”</p><p>Though Bill was right, the baby added another whole weight to his fear of losing her. His fear. Paul wanted so badly to tell his best friend about the baby. Maybe then he’d be able to get some advice on how to raise a kid. He knew that he and Emma had no intention of ever separating, so his and Bill’s parenting might differ, but the fact remained that at the base of it all, Bill was a <em> good dad. </em> Paul knew a thing or two about looking after a kid, after so many years of babysitting Alice, especially when Bill and his wife’s divorce was finalized. But that was an entirely different wheelhouse from <em> raising </em>a kid. Still, there had been too many accidental reveals of Emma’s pregnancy to people, and he would have to wait for the three months to be up before he got to tell Bill; A fact which both frustrated him, but would make the eventual reveal all the sweeter. </p><p>He glanced down at Bill, “I mean… I did lose her. I’ve lost her too many times in the past couple of months alone…”</p><p>Bill chuckled bitterly, “Yeah...I mean, you were erased from existence, buddy.”</p><p>Paul stifled a small chuckle, “I just...can’t do that again, you know?” </p><p>“I get it,” Bill nodded, squeezing Paul’s hand slightly, “Alice is all I have in this life, Paul...I’m very fortunate to have never lost her before.” </p><p>Paul thought back to his knowledge about previous resets when the opposite of that was the truth. When he’d still been in the Black and White, John had shown him several scenes from one of the first few resets, the one where Apatha had made him her favorite. That reset had shown him so many horrors that took place in 2018, placing him and Emma in a place where they barely knew one another. The fact that they’d both met each other so many times with a blank slate such as that, astounded him. And the fact that he was driven to kill her...even more horrifying. Still, one of the worst things that he’d been made to see was himself and Bill attempting to save Alice...leaving the safety of Hidgens’ home to go to Hatchetfield High. It was there that they’d been too late to save the teen...and it was there that he witnessed Alice shoot Bill.  </p><p>It was something he hoped he never saw again. </p><p>“Yeah…” Paul nodded, “Hopefully you never lose her.” </p><p>“I mean,” Bill shrugged, tears filling his eyes suddenly, “One day she’s gonna meet someone...fall in love…” </p><p>“Not Deb,” Paul raised an eyebrow with a sigh, “I thought you were over the ‘hating Deb’ phase.” </p><p>“I am...I am…” Bill laughed tearfully, “My point is...I guess you have to prepare to let your kids...go…”</p><p>Bill swallowed hard, tears pouring from his eyes. </p><p>“Paul…” he whispered, “I don’t want the last thing I ever saw to be...to be Ted…”</p><p>“Hey...hey, man,”  Paul whispered, “It won’t be…”</p><p>“B-but what if it’s not,” Bill sobbed, “What if I never see Alice’s face again?! What if I don’t get to see her get married? What if...what if she has kids...or adopts one...and I never get to see my grandkids faces?”</p><p>“Hey, you can’t think like that, Bill,” Paul whispered, trying to calm his friend’s nerves and keep him from spiraling, “We don’t know why you’ve gone blind...so who’s to say we can’t fix this?!”</p><p>“B-but what if we can’t?” Bill whispered, tears pouring from his eyes, “What if this is how it’ll be…?” </p><p>“I don’t…” Paul began, his heart breaking at the hopelessness his friend was feeling, “I don’t know….I really don’t…”</p><p>Bill sighed slightly, letting the tears fall again, “Okay…”</p><p>Paul fell silent. He didn’t know what he should tell Bill. No assurance that everything was going to be okay would be both truthful and comforting at the same time. It was either one or the other in this case. </p><p>He was debating what he should tell Bill when the doors to the ward opened and Xander walked in, followed by John and Dr. McMurray.</p><p>“Who is it?” Bill asked. </p><p>“John- I mean, General McNamara, Major Lee, and Doctor McMurray,” he whispered, straightening when he saw the confused look on their faces, going even more rigid when he saw Phillipa enter behind them, “And...Doctor Kirk.”</p><p>John cleared his throat, making everything in the room seem to stop. </p><p>Tom sat up on his place in the bed, “What is it?” </p><p>John looked uncomfortable. </p><p>“What’s happening?” Bill whispered. </p><p>Paul didn’t answer as John inhaled and exhaled sharply. </p><p>“Okay guys,” John sighed, not taking time to implement formality which definitely implied <em> something was wrong </em>. Or maybe he was just tired. Sometimes manners could be a little lax when tiredness happened. Maybe he’d tell them that everything-, “I wish I could tell you that we have answers...but that would be untruthful.”</p><p>
  <em> Okay...so maybe not the answers they wanted. </em>
</p><p>“Dr. McMurray will inform you of what I mean,” John sighed before gesturing to the tall redhead that stood beside him.</p><p>Out of all of the doctors in the infirmary, Paul was probably the least familiar with Dr. Clementine McMurray, but he knew that she specialized in parabiology and toxicology. </p><p>The woman stepped forward, pushing a red curl behind her ear. Her face was long and angular, with a pointy nose and bright eyes. Her bright red hair, only slightly darker than Becky's, was coiled behind her head in an almost 1800’s esque hairstyle, with tightly-curled fringe hanging off the sides.  She wore jade-green scrubs under a She was prim and proper in her demeanor, but the way she regarded them was with a soft kind of grace. She cleared her throat and began to speak clearly and properly to them all, her voice betraying a hint of a British accent, “Ladies and Gentlemen, you are all aware of the circumstances which have brought you all to this ward, so I’ll be as brief as I can be...” she sighed and straightened, glancing down at her clipboard, “As you all know, we performed a complete blood analysis, trying to discern if whatever it was that Mr. Spankoffski attacked you with had any effect on your bloodstream or organs...and the results came up-”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, God.  </em>
</p><p>Panic filled Paul’s heart as the woman chose the worst possible time to pause and glance down at her notes. She was going to tell him that they’d been poisoned, or that Ted had done something that would result in all of their deaths. </p><p>“The results had...” The Doctor continued, “...nothing abnormal that I could discern.” </p><p>“What…?” Lex whispered, “You mean...that...that <em> psycho </em>stabbed us with something unidentified...and you found nothing?” </p><p>“I never said that,” McMurray sighed, “I only meant that the preliminary workup revealed nothing abnormal.”</p><p>“What…” Tom began, inhaling and exhaling deeply, “What does that mean?” </p><p>“It means we don’t know if what Ted did to you actually did anything,” Xander sighed. </p><p>“Well...it must’ve done something,” Lucy whispered from her place on the cot, looking very pale, “Why would he go to all that trouble…” </p><p>“We don’t know, Lucy,” John sighed, “But Spankoffski is in surgery right now, compliments of Emma Perkins.”</p><p>“What happened?” Tom raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“She stabbed him,” John deadpanned.</p><p>Lex looked mildly surprised, “Good for her.”</p><p>Paul couldn’t help but feel a small spark of pride when Bill moved his head in Paul’s direction with a somewhat shocked but approving look on his face. Elsewhere in the room, Lex and Tom began to chatter slightly about Emma’s antics, but not before it was cut short by John.</p><p>“In other words,” John continued, before the conversation could get off-topic, “We plan to question Ted once he’s conscious, but until then we’re unsure of whether or not there’s anything <em> actually </em>wrong with you.”</p><p>“The plan is to keep you overnight,” Dr. McMurray chimed in, “I will run another complete blood panel to make sure I didn’t miss anything, or that your labs got confused with anything else- considering how much chaos we’ve all witnessed today, it’s not out of the question. And once the machines become available, I plan to do a full host of Diagnostic scans to ensure there’s no structural or tissue damage. After that, if there’s nothing we can see as of right now, then we’ll let you all go and check in every few weeks to be sure.”</p><p>Oh...that was...<em> unexpected.  </em></p><p>“W-Well, what about the weapons...or the syringes?” Paul asked, his eyes darting between John and Dr. McMurray, “Are those being analyzed?” </p><p>Xander shifted uncomfortably as Dr. McMurray turned to him. </p><p>“Well, as you know, the syringes crumbled before they could be analyzed,” Xander began, “All that remains are samples of black dust that we found around all of you. I have my team, with the aid of Professor Hidgens analyzing the elemental properties of the dust to see if we can discern what the objects you were attacked with were made out of.”</p><p>Paul nodded slightly looking down at the odd tile pattern of the floor.</p><p>So much was going on. Too much, in his opinion. </p><p>He wanted to ask Phillipa where Emma was. </p><p>Emma always seemed to make the craziest of situations make sense. It was her superpower, in a sense. Even when the world was spiraling into madness, it always seemed like it would be okay when Emma was around. He was anxious to ask Phillipa how she was. If she and the baby were both safe. God, he hoped with everything that he had that they were both safe. Nothing else mattered to him. </p><p>His thoughts were interrupted by Bill sitting up shakily and raising a hand. </p><p>“Will…” the man began shakily, “Before you keep us here for the night...will we be able to see our family? I-I have a daughter…”</p><p>John’s face softened gently. He glanced at Dr. McMurray who only offered him a small nod. </p><p>“Yes, sir...Bill Woodward, was it?” </p><p>“Y-Yes, sir,” Bill stammered. </p><p>John smiled, “We will give all of you some time to be with your families before they report back to their residential areas. I understand that this day has been taxing to us all so I won’t prevent you from making sure everything is in order with them…Does your daughter have anyone to stay with?” </p><p>“H-Her girlfriend,” Bill nodded, “Deb Orin.”</p><p>John nodded, smiling softly, “We’ll see that they both get home alright after they leave.” </p><p>Bill smiled tearfully with a nod, “Th-Thank you, sir.”</p><p>“No problem,” John nodded, looking down with a soft smile, “We can only give you so many minutes, but I will allow your loved ones here for both your peace of mind and theirs. Once Doctor McMurray has cleared you all, you may return to them tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Would you like me to get them now?” Dr. McMurray whispered to John, who merely nodded. Paul watched as the woman turned on her heel and exited the ward, presumably out to retrieve the members of their family. </p><p>John and Xander moved over to speak quietly with Tom, talking in hushed tones about how Tim was going to stay with Becky for the evening and they’d make sure they all made it home safely. Phillipa, all the while, stood at the foot of Lex’s bed, glancing at the charts. </p><p>With a small squeeze at Bill’s hand, Paul leaned in and whispered, “I’ll be right back.” </p><p>Bracing himself against his own gurney and the IV pole that was still attached to his arm via a small tube, Paul shakily made his way towards Phillipa. His vision spun at the sudden movement and a wave of slight nausea churned in his stomach. He grit his teeth as he continued to approach the woman.  </p><p>She looked up and her eyes widened when they fell on him. In a fashion that very much reminded him of his own mother, she placed her hands on her hops,  “Matthews, you look like you can barely stand. Get your ass in bed, please.”</p><p>“I will, Phillipa, I will,” he sighed wearily, closing his eyes momentarily to prevent the dizzy spell that threatened to knock him over, “I just wanted to ask about-”</p><p>“Emma’s fine, Paul,” a soft smile fell on Phillipa’s face as she began to lead him back to where he’d been seated. She lowered her voice slightly to avoid attracting attention from the other people in the room who might not have known about the baby, “They both are…” </p><p>He allowed a sigh of relief, unlike anything he’d known before to crash over him. </p><p>Emma was okay. </p><p>The baby too.</p><p>
  <em> Thank God. </em>
</p><p>“You’re sure?” he asked, fighting against the wave of anxiety and adrenaline that still lingered in his veins, “They’re both gonna be okay?” </p><p>“Yes, Matthews,” Phillipa sighed as she forced him back into a sitting position, still whispering to avoid the earshot of Bill “And nothing short of a miracle, to be honest. I would just recommend a lot of rest...also, if you guys could just stop finding yourself in life-threatening situations, that would be great.” </p><p>He laughed humorlessly, “Tell that to the Lords in Black.”</p><p>Phillipa shook her head, “You’d be surprised what kind of pull doctors orders have….you’d also be surprised how many idiots don’t listen to them.”</p><p>“Too many, I’d imagine,” Paul muttered. </p><p>Phillipa hummed noncommittally, making sure his IV was hooked up correctly “I’d tell you, but then I’d be violating Patient-Physician confidentiality.”</p><p>“Thank you, Phillipa,” He whispered, looking up at the doctor, “For everything...really, Emma and I owe you so much.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” the woman sighed, lowering her voice again, “Don’t thank me until you and Emma have a happy, healthy baby on your hands, Matthews.”</p><p>With that, the woman turned her attention to Lucy, busying herself with checking her vitals and making sure that she was comfortable, with the assistance of another nurse.</p><p>He sat back in the chair, gently putting his hand on Bill’s arm again, “It’s me...again.”</p><p>Bill smiled slightly, “You don’t think Ted did anything to us, do you?” </p><p>He bit his lower lip, “I don’t know...and I’m not entirely sure it was <em> Ted…” </em></p><p>His friend raised an eyebrow and let  a humorless chuckle leave him, “Looked <em> very much </em>like Ted.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he shrugged, “But that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>Bill shook his head with a small sigh, “You know...I miss the days when this world wasn’t completely fu-messed up.”</p><p>“Bill, you can say ‘fuck’,” Paul deadpanned, “I think this situation calls for it.”</p><p>Bill laughed slightly, “You know...I fell out of the swing of swearing when Alice was born...I didn’t want my angel of a child to go around saying words like that. Of course, that changed nothing because she learned them all the same,” his face fell slightly, “It goes by so fast, you know?”</p><p>Paul would know, he knew. Soon enough, he’d be watching his own kid grow into their own personality, figure out their place in the world. If this kid was going to be anything like Emma, then they might find themselves swearing like a sailor. Part of him was excited and terrified to watch that happen. He wanted to be a good father. He wanted this kid to never feel like they were unloved or less than worthy of being loved. He wanted his kid to have ambition, to have dreams, to have everything he had never acquired for himself. </p><p>Bill noticed his sudden silence, “Hey...you okay?” </p><p>Paul sat up straighter. He wanted so desperately to tell his friend about the baby, “Yeah...Yeah, I’m good. Just tired.”</p><p>“I get it,” Bill sighed, “This has been one hell of a year, huh?” </p><p>“That’s putting it nicely,” Paul retorted, “But you’re right when you say it all goes really fast.”</p><p>Bill chuckled lightly, “Remember when it took you five or six months to ask Emma for her name?” </p><p>“Shut up,” Paul groaned, a small smile falling onto his face.</p><p>Part of him wanted to kick himself in the teeth from when he’d been so hesitant to even go to Beanies. Back then, he’d been so worried he’d be seen as creepy, or that Emma would be unnerved by his regular showing up at Beanies, he stammered through ordering the most simple of coffee orders. God, he’d been weak for her back then. Granted, he <em> still </em> was...but now things were different. He could still remember how shocked he was when she’d given him her number, implying that a date with him was something she was interested in.  He felt like a stupid high schooler again with a crush, unable to stop himself from growing redder and redder as he walked the blocks back to CCRP. Stuff like that had never happened to Paul.</p><p> If this were a movie, he was one of those generic background characters. Never of any notice or any worth to anyone. Nobody took note of him, <em> especially not </em>extremely attractive baristas who could kick his ass if she wanted to. </p><p>But she had.</p><p>She noticed him. </p><p>And eventually, she fell in love with him. </p><p>He’d already known he loved her around their first or second date...but he’d never expected her to love him back. He worried often that he’d bore her. After all, he probably had nothing interesting or exciting going on in his life, while, to him, she was the very <em> definition </em>of interesting and exciting. </p><p>But she loved him. </p><p>It was even more fitting that she’d beaten him to the punch and said it first.</p><p>He wished he’d worked up the nerve to say it first. </p><p>He wished he hadn’t wasted so much time like that, worrying that he would drive her away as he had nearly everyone in his life. If he had known that she loved him as he loved her, then his life with her could have started much sooner. Maybe they would have had more time together before the world went to shit. </p><p>But none of that mattered now. </p><p>They were together. </p><p>They’d found home in one another. </p><p>Hell, they’d even made a family with one another. </p><p>And that was all that mattered.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> The sound of the wind made her open her eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was lying in the middle of that same field.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was she doing back here?   </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She pushed herself to her feet, the cool, moist soil almost soft against her bare feet as she took in her surroundings.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something was different.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Instead of the field dotted with the reds and blues of the usual poppies and cornflowers that she knew, accented with the golds and tawny green-browns of the tall grass, she found a field of varying shades of red and black.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The grass itself, while still being tall and stretching past her knees, was painted silver and black as she walked through it, adding contrast to the bright shades of red which seemed to pop out against the shadow. To her relief, the poppies were still there, bright and red in the way they swayed in the breeze, but instead of the familiar pops of indigo, she found a strange-looking plant decked in shades of deep, garnet red.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It looked almost as if someone had tried to make a plant look like an elephant’s trunk by composing it out of many, tiny red beads, all closely packed together and dangling over the poppies and the dark grass. They were taller and thicker than the flowers, extending upward in some odd form of shrub rather than a simple flower, but they still intrigued her, with their big leaves- painted black and silver, much like the grass that surrounded her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She knew this plant.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Didn’t she? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d seen it before, growing in Jane’s garden (probably dying, since Jane most definitely didn’t have a green thumb). Dangling over a collection of marigolds and chrysanthemums, which most definitely didn’t look like they could grow together. She’d remembered this odd plant from one of her few visits to the Houston home after Jane had died.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Amaranthus caudatus,” a familiar voice chirped from behind her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She whirled around to see Jane, standing behind her, looking exactly as she had in the previous dreams.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane,” she breathed. </em>
</p><p><em> “Though it has a much more poignant name,” Jane went on, inspecting the odd dangling blooms closely, “ </em> Love Lies Bleeding <em> , is what it’s called...definitely a much more common name. Hard to forget.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Emma looked down at the familiar white dress that she’d worn before in these dreams, finding that the sash was that dark shade of blue, contrasting greatly against the red flowers and the aged lace that made up the gown. She whipped her head around, taking in the overall sight of the field. It felt almost as if she’d stepped into some sort of wonderland of her own making. A convoluted landscape of twists and turns that lacked most colors except for red and blue. What did it mean? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She glanced up at her smiling sister, confusion burgeoning in her heart, “What am I doing here?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane sighed and twirled one of her dark brown curls around her finger, “I think you know why.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma laughed humorlessly, “If I did, do you think I’d be asking you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane shrugged and nodded slightly, “I suppose so, though, you’ve never come here before without your own consent, Emma.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She glanced down at the black grass and the flowers that surrounded them, “Why is it different?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane walked around one of the larger plants, “Why is what different?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The flowers,” Emma gestured to the blooms that surrounded them, “They’re usually poppies and cornflowers, aren’t they? Not this-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Love Lies Bleeding,” Jane mused, “And the grass usually isn’t black, is it?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma scoffed, “Last I checked? No.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” Jane began, “Why do you think it’s different?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed, unsure of how to respond, “You know, I never really concerned myself with what flowers meant unless I wanted to make a flower arrangement that meant ‘fuck you’.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane raised an eyebrow and chuckled lightly as she considered it, “Yep, I could see you doing that,” she moved towards Emma once more, “But you are the botany major...so I thought that you of all people would know what flowers mean.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now Emma really was starting to get frustrated, “Look, Jane, I fail to see what this has to do with any-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul was attacked, wasn’t he?” Jane interrupted, her face falling slightly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Taken aback, Emma took a few steps back, “Y-Yes…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane nodded and looked down, “You know, you’re lucky you haven’t seen any rhododendron...that would make the warning even greater…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Warning?” Emma scoffed, “Jane, you’re not making any sense-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I suppose I’m just wasting time, aren’t I?” Jane sighed heavily, cutting Emma off. She glanced down at the flowers that surrounded them before taking Emma’s hand in her own, “Listen...Emmy...you’ve found Henry...that’s good. But he wasn’t summoned under the terms we had planned. The Lords in Black have a longer game to play. I don’t know what it is, but you have to understand; if you want yourself, Paul, and your child to be safe, you need to be more careful.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Emma scoffed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was this?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why was Jane not making sense?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane...wait.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She glanced back up at her sister, “H-How...how did you know?” she removed her hand from her sisters as she backed up, “How’d you know about-”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane smiled softly, “We’re both mothers now, Emma. I know that we’ll do anything to protect our children.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without another word, Jane turned on her heel and began walking the other way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane, what the-” Emma began, before she was cut off again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And another thing, Emmy,” Jane turned over her shoulder, smiling softly, “It means hopeless but not heartless.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane nodded gently in her sister’s direction before continuing her walk, leaving Emma with a bundle of confusion and mind annoyance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane?” Emma began to run after her, “Jane, wait!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The cold soil was numbing to her feet as Emma scrambled to try and catch up with her, feeling like she was only growing farther away from her sister.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, she tripped over something she couldn’t see in the grass, falling face first down into the flowers. She cursed lowly under her breath and looked up searching for Jane. For a moment, it looked like Jane flickered in a burst of red and black, but the longer Emma looked, the further away her sister looked. The wind began to howl and the sky was suddenly a lot darker than before.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane! Wait!” Emma shouted, forcing herself to her feet and chasing after her, the wind nearly forcing her to topple over once more, “Jane, please!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Aunt Emma?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Emma’s eyes snapped open and she lurched forward with a gasp, nearly falling off of the small sofa that she’d curled up and fallen asleep on. Through her blurred vision and all-around grogginess, she could see little, but suddenly remembered where she was. </p><p>She was in the infirmary waiting room, waiting for an update on all of the people who’d been attacked. </p><p>She rubbed at her eyes and glanced up at the clock, seeing that only half an hour had passed since Phillipa had released her. God, it felt like several hours had passed. </p><p>She’d been given a change of clothes since she and Paul had gotten to the infirmary, removing the ones that had been stained with the blood, sweat, and tears of earlier in the day, and replacing them with some loose sweatpants and a black sweater, which was far too big for her, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t yet gotten the chance to shower, but Phillipa had given her a wet towel to wipe the blood from where it had seemed to cake itself onto her body, leaving her feeling not entirely clean, but still better than blood-soaked. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from shaking after she’d stabbed Ted.</p><p>The moment Ted had grabbed Paul she felt like her entire world was being shaken inside of a tin can and she was being rattled ceaselessly from side to side. She’d heard Paul hoarsely whisper for her to run as Ted choked the life out of him, stabbing something she couldn’t see into his neck. It was out of pure adrenaline that she’d grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the leg, long before she even realized that she’d actually stabbed someone. Thankfully, he’d dropped Paul and didn’t make any further attempts to kill them, but she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She’d shot Schaeffer before, but this was different. This was someone they knew. He was a prick, that much was true...but Ted hadn’t deserved whatever it was that had happened to him. Whatever it was that she had stabbed, it wasn’t Ted.  </p><p>She glanced up and found her nephew sitting in an armchair beside the couch she was laying on. His eyes were puffy and the scarring around his bad eye looked agitated. He had an orange blanket wrapped around him and he was curled sleepily into the arm of the chair itself, peering at her with concern and fear.</p><p>“Buddy... ?” she whispered groggily, “Are you okay?” </p><p>Tim raised an eyebrow, “Are you?” </p><p>She sighed and nodded, “Yeah...just a bad dream, that’s all.”</p><p>Tim looked down, “About mom?” </p><p>Emma’s heart sank at the sound of the word. She opened her mouth to speak before Tim muttered tiredly under his breath, “You kept saying her name in your sleep.” </p><p>She swallowed hard, “Yeah, yeah, bud, she was in my dream.”</p><p>She sat up and straightened herself, leaning against the arm of the couch as she took in the surroundings. </p><p>Surprisingly, the infirmary waiting room was mostly empty in comparison to how crowded it had been earlier. She and Paul had nearly slammed into several different people while they were being escorted into the infirmary. For a moment it would have seemed like the entire base had been stuffed into that infirmary, now it was nearly empty, save for a few people. Becky was sitting in the chair beside Tim, sharing the overly large blanket. Ethan and Hannah were curled up together on another sofa, Hannah sleeping soundly while she was curled into Ethan’s side while Ethan looked like he was staring anxiously at the clock. On the couch just beside them, were two more figures that were familiar to her.</p><p>“Alice?” she whispered groggily as she caught sight of the girl sitting wearily on the sofa opposite her, leaning against her girlfriend who looked just as exhausted. </p><p>The girl stirred from her slight sleep, “Emma…”</p><p>“Are you okay?” Emma asked, suddenly feeling much more awake as she took in the exhausted form of Paul’s goddaughter. </p><p>Alice merely shrugged, “I mean if you discount my dad being attacked and not being able to see him for the past couple of hours...add Uncle Paul to that equation and-”</p><p>“He’s your Uncle too?” Tim piped up, his eyes widening as he looked at Alice, who looked thoroughly confused. </p><p>Alice looked at Emma for a second, looking rather confused, “Who’s this?” </p><p>“Oh...this is Tim,” Emma gestured to the small sleepy boy, “He’s my nephew.”</p><p>“Oh,” Alice smiled softly, “Paul’s my dad’s best friend...so I call him my Uncle. My name’s Alice.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Tim nodded, “He’s a good Uncle, isn’t he?” </p><p>Alice chuckled under her breath, rubbing at her noticeably red, puffy eyes, “Yeah, he is.”</p><p>“Do you think they’ll all be okay?” </p><p>Emma’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted to Alice’s tear-filled expression. Alice squeezed her girlfriend's hand, her eyes filled with tears.</p><p>“I hope so,” the girl breathed, “I really hope so…”</p><p>Becky, who’d gotten off work a quarter of an hour before sighed in her sleep and muttered a few words under her breath, catching everyone’s attention and making the tension rise immediately. She’d been unable to disclose any information that she had about what was going on with the people they cared about, which had been an immediate subject of frustration with all of them. Had it not been for the presence of the kids, which made up the majority of the room, she was fairly certain she was going to break. </p><p>All she wanted was an update on some of the most important people in her life, who’d been attacked by someone who’d been under the control of one of the most dangerous beings on earth. </p><p>It made sense that everything was kept under wraps, but it was horrifying that they were unable to know anything. </p><p>She worried mostly about Paul. </p><p>He’d stayed conscious the entire time while they moved from the kitchens to the infirmary, albeit looking dizzy and sick. He’d been conscious enough for him to walk with only her assistance and had talked to her before she’d agreed (albeit, begrudgingly) to go with Phillipa to check up on the baby. Of course, it was a massive relief to know that the baby was healthy and in no danger, especially after the strain and stress that they’d been experiencing throughout the course of the day. Phillipa had recommended that both she and Paul should remain home and work away from potential areas where physical strain would be induced. She only hoped that Paul was well enough for them to remain together. </p><p>She couldn’t imagine what she would do if he’d gotten hurt. The idea of losing him was enough to make her feel hollow. Like she’d been gutted like a fish. It was strange, she’d felt alone for so long in her life, she didn’t even realize that she’d been completely used to the feeling of loneliness. She’d been living in a world where she depended on her own survival mode for everything. She couldn’t depend on anyone for anything, and that was that. </p><p>Then, along came this tall, lanky nerd, who’d helped her realize that she didn’t <em> need </em>to be alone. She didn’t need to fear that he’d let her down. He certainly didn’t want to let her down. And he certainly didn’t make her feel like she was constantly doing something wrong, like most of the people in her life had made her feel. </p><p>Along came the black coffee guy, and suddenly she realized how miserable she was in forcing herself to be alone. </p><p>Something about him had made the walls she’d built around her heart come crashing down. </p><p>She didn’t know what love had felt like before him. </p><p>She’d known what attraction felt like...and sure, she had felt that before. If you were to look into the record of one-night stands she’d had, you would be able to verify that fact. </p><p>But love? </p><p>To her, love hadn’t even existed.</p><p>Sure, Jane ranted often about true love and perfect lives and all of that bullshit. All of that stuff about meeting the perfect person, your better half, not the kind of stuff that only existed in cheap paperback romance novels that were probably written by women in their forties with no sex lives and probably fantasized about the Phantom of the Opera in some way. No, the stuff that Jane talked about was another level of fantasy. Something that Jane would definitely have been able to acquire...but not Emma. </p><p>If there was anything her parents had said to her in her childhood that actually stuck with her, it was that she was undeserving of that kind of love. </p><p>Someone as wild and “problematic” and “a mistake” like she was, would never find someone to love. Or be loved back, for that matter. She was just pretty damn unlovable if there was anything her childhood had taught her. </p><p>Then along came Paul. </p><p>Paul loved her for her flaws. He loved her for who she was. He respected her for her boundaries, her choices, her lifestyle, even if they contrasted greatly from his own. He never judged her or pushed her to do things that she was uncomfortable with. Unlike anybody she’d ever wanted to get attached to before, he’d stuck around, even in times where they couldn’t stand one another. This fucking attractive dork could have had anyone he wanted... </p><p>And he wanted<em> her </em>. </p><p>He loved<em> her </em>. </p><p>Hell, they’d torn apart the fabric of the Black and White to be back together.</p><p><em> Fuck you, universe. </em> </p><p>Emma Perkins might not have been deserving of this kind of love, but she had it. </p><p>She had it in the form of a man who didn’t like musicals. She had it in a pair of crystalline blue eyes that looked at her like she’d placed the stars in the sky.  She had it in a person who drank black coffee and talked to himself when he was nervous. She had it in a man who tapped his wrists together when he was stressed, and talked through most movies they watched together, but only because he was so excited about the trivia and facts behind certain scenes. She had it in someone who always had a signature cowlick in the mornings, who obsessed a little <em> too </em> much about the formatting of his spreadsheets. She had it in someone who’d made a <em> mother </em> out of her. </p><p>If anyone was capable of that, they had to be nonexistent, because little Emma Juliet Perkins, the problematic sister of Jane, who came home with bruised knees and bloody noses, who was often sent home from school with referrals and C’s on her report card, was going to die alone. </p><p>But all of those people who’d said that about her in her youth were damn fools. </p><p>Because Paul Matthews loved her. </p><p>And that was all that she cared about.</p><p>Oh God, what if the most important person in her life was dead?</p><p>No.</p><p>She couldn’t think like that. </p><p>Panicking would do her no good. </p><p>Paul was going to be fine. </p><p>As if on cue, the sound of prim heels against the tiled floor, snapping in rhythm, managed to catch everyone’s attention. Everyone straightened in their seats as the red-headed doctor (Murray? Was that her name?) made her way down the hallway, approaching them with a tired expression on her face. </p><p>Alice jumped to her feet, looking like she was about to fall over at the sudden movement. </p><p>“Dr. McMurray, how are-” she began before the woman cut her off. </p><p>She held out a well-manicured hand out to slow the girl down as she made sure everyone was awake, “Ladies and Gentlemen, as you’re well aware one or more of your loved ones was attacked this evening by a man you’re all familiar with.”</p><p>Alice groaned loudly, “Wish we weren’t.” </p><p>Emma couldn’t help but agree. </p><p>“Well,” Dr. McMurray sighed, “I’ve run a full set of labs on all of the patients.”</p><p>“And?” Ethan asked, hugging Hannah closer to his side. </p><p>“And I was unable to find anything abnormal.”</p><p>
  <em> Wait...what did that mean? </em>
</p><p>There was a moment of silence before Tim stood up from his seat, “Does that mean they can come home?” </p><p>The doctor’s face softened, “I’m gonna have to keep all of them overnight for observation…”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“No!” </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Alice, Tim, and Ethan spoke at the same time, all of them looking like they all wanted to cry. All three of their immediate responses seemed to cover a much cleaner and more contained version of what Emma was feeling. </p><p>“I need to watch over them to make sure I didn’t miss anything,” The doctor reasoned, “In addition, I would like to run diagnostic scans on all of them, to ensure there was no structural or tissue damage. They’ll be able to come home in the morning if that all checks out.” </p><p>Emma allowed herself to release the breath she’d been holding in for the entirety of the Doctor’s small spiel before Becky chimed in. </p><p>“But so far, Clem,” Becky whispered gently, “It looks like nothing’s wrong?”</p><p>“From what I can tell,” The woman shrugged, “They’ll be good to go home tomorrow, with some checkups every few weeks to make sure, in the long run, that nothing’s wrong.”</p><p>Emma leaned back in her chair. Something didn’t feel right about this. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but it didn’t seem right. Why would Ted go through all of that trouble to attack them all and yet it had no effect on them?</p><p>“Now, which one of you is related to Bill Woodward?” The woman asked, suddenly looking a little nervous.</p><p>Alice’s eyes widened. She raised a shaky hand, “I am...I’m his daughter.”</p><p>“Miss Woodward,” Dr. McMurray nodded, “In your father’s case, he’ll need to see a specialist every week.” </p><p>“In my father’s case?” Alice repeated, “Why? What’s wrong with him?”</p><p>The doctor sighed and bit down on her lip, “For reasons that are currently unknown, your father was blinded in the attack. We don’t know if it’s permanent or not, but…” </p><p>“He can’t see?” Alice whispered, looking like she was going to cry all over again. </p><p>“As of right now, yes,” The doctor nodded regretfully, “I am so sorry.”</p><p>Alice unleashed a small, exhausted sob, before sinking into the open arms of her plaid-clad girlfriend, burying her face in her shoulder. </p><p>Emma’s heart broke for the girl, while a major part of her soul was infuriated. Bill didn’t deserve to get dragged into this. Alice deserved to live a worry-free life with her father. Never having to worry about his shitty coworkers attacking him and relieving him of his sight. In some ways, what Alice was experiencing right now reflected some of her own fears about her own child. That small smear of light within her that was depending on her and Paul to give them a safe world to live in. What would happen if one of them were to die? The very thought of Paul never getting to meet their child, or one of them leaving their child behind in an unrelenting world of horror and torment was beyond anything she wanted. She could never leave a child behind. Children deserved parents who loved them and treated them right. They deserved parents who were nothing like the people who’d raised her, the man who raised Paul, or the woman who’d even raised Lex and Hannah, for that matter. It was already bad enough that Tim had lost his mother and his father was in that ward with Paul and Bill right now. Hell, Ethan’s mother had left him when he was born, and his father was still on the list of the missing people.</p><p> None of these people deserved this. </p><p>“Oh, and Miss Perkins?” she was snapped from her thoughts as the Doctor addressed her. </p><p>“Yes?” Emma whispered although she was fairly certain her words came out in a breath.</p><p>“It was recommended by Dr. Kirk that you spend the night at the Houston apartment,” she gestured to Tim and Becky who stood behind Emma, “With Nurse Barnes and your nephew.”</p><p>“What?” Emma whispered, shaking her head slightly, “No...I’m not leaving.”</p><p>“I understand your reluctance,” the doctor whispered, “But it’s what’s best for right now. Your partner will be released tomorrow morning, but until then, it is best that you all stick together. I understand Miss Woodward will be staying with Miss Orin?” </p><p>Deb nodded, cradling Alice, who was still crying closer. </p><p>“And Mr. Green and Miss Foster are together?” </p><p>Ethan nodded, now holding Hannah’s hand. </p><p>Dr. McMurray turned back to Emma, “Because Miss Barnes isn’t biologically a relative, and you have nobody else living with you at the moment, it is recommended that for both your sake and your nephews that you all stay together. At least until Mr. Matthews is released.”</p><p>She hated the fact that the woman didn’t say ‘tomorrow’. She just wanted Paul there. She wanted him to be okay and didn’t want to have to worry about every breath he took potentially being his last. </p><p>A small hand wrapped around Emma’s, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced down to see Tim looking up at her. </p><p>“It’ll be okay, Aunt Emma,” the boy whispered, clearly holding back his own tears, “It’ll be like a sleepover!” </p><p>She admired this child’s ability to be optimistic. </p><p>As much as she hated it, she knew that the Doctor was right. There was no way in hell that they were gonna let her spend the night in the infirmary with a bunch of people who had essentially been put under a loose form of quarantine. At the base of it all, she did need to think about what was best for her child, and sleeping on a waiting room couch was probably something Phillipa would whip her ass over. Reluctantly, she nodded in agreement. </p><p>“Then it’s settled,” The doctor sighed, “I’ll allow you a few minutes to see them, allow yourselves to know that they’re all okay, and they’ll be home tomorrow, okay?” </p><p>Emma breathed a sigh of relief, fighting against the tears that were blooming, stinging the backs of her eyes, and threatening to give her one hell of a headache that she was fighting against.</p><p>Slowly, the doctor turned around and began to lead them all down the hallway, passing too many rooms that were very obviously occupied. Though the doors were cracked open as they all followed McMurray through the almost labyrinthine hallways of the infirmary, she could tell from the sounds of heart monitors and all kinds of machinery that more than enough people had been harmed in the attack earlier in the day. </p><p>Her mind wandered to Paul again. </p><p>They’d said they’d found nothing abnormal, right? </p><p>That was good. </p><p>He was going to be fine, she had to remind herself. </p><p>He was going to be home tomorrow. </p><p>Though she hated the idea of leaving him at the infirmary, she knew it was what was best. In spite of every ounce of her being begging her to grab a cot and set it up in the waiting room, she knew that Tim needed to not be alone with just Becky. Not after what had happened. If not Tim...then she didn’t need to be alone. </p><p>Maybe she needed Tim more than he needed her. </p><p>Dr. McMurray stopped in front of a big door, “Now...they’re all conscious and lucid, so what you’ll see shouldn’t be too disturbing. I can give you five minutes, and that is all. After that, you all have to leave,” the woman straightened her lab coat, “Understood?”</p><p>When the woman was met by a conglomeration of nods and ‘yes, ma’am’s, she pulled open the doors and allowed them all entrance. </p><p>Tim was the first to run in with Hannah close behind him, making a beeline for the corners where Lex and Tom were. Alice and Deb hesitantly followed them in, followed by Ethan, who offered a small nod to Lucy as he walked in, before going straight to Lex as well. </p><p>For a moment, Emma was hesitant to go in. What if she didn’t like what she saw?  What if she’d blocked out some crucial information the doctors had given her, and she’d see Paul all bandaged up without understanding what had happened? What if-</p><p>Becky squeezed her arm gently, “You okay?” </p><p>Emma was snapped from her anxieties, “Y-Yeah...I’m fine…”</p><p>Becky smiled softly, sympathetically, as if she could read the very thoughts and worries that were circulating around in Emma’s head, “Well, c’mon then...we’ve only got five minutes.”</p><p>The redhead entered the room first, casting a small encouraging glance over her shoulder at Emma, before joining Tim at Tom’s bedside. </p><p>Hesitantly, Emma stepped into the ward, her eyes immediately scanning the room for Paul.</p><p>She could see Lex, Ethan, and Hannah all-embracing, Lex undoubtedly running them all through what had happened. She could see Becky pressing a kiss to Tom’s forehead while Tim, cuddled in Tom’s arms, talked to Lucy, who was laying on a cot a few feet away. Alice was sobbing into her father’s side, Deb’s hand on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder blades. And in the armchair next to them was…Paul. </p><p>Almost instantly their eyes met, and she found herself breathless.</p><p>He was wearing grey hospital sweats, almost as if the medical department had run out of hospital gowns like the ones that Lex, Lucy, Tom, and Bill were all wearing. His eyes widened as they fell on her, and his hand went to the IV pole sitting beside him. Using it like a crutch he stumbled a few feet towards her, not saying anything. In response, she took a few, unsteady steps towards him, her leg sore and aching where her limb met the socket of her prosthetic, but she didn’t care. </p><p>She met him in the middle, collapsing instantly into his arms and burying her face in his shoulder, soaking up his warmth. </p><p>For a moment, neither of them said anything. Both of their breaths were shaky, almost as if they were both fighting back tears, or attempting to breathe in one another’s scent in deep gulps, almost as if committing one another to memory for the millionth time. She could hear and feel his heart beating in his chest, his muscles seeming to relax with the relief at seeing her. Had he been as worried about her as she’d been worried about him? She could hear the sounds of Tim’s chatter and Alice’s crying, but she didn’t care. All that mattered right now was that he was here. He was holding her and she was holding him. </p><p>He pulled back for a moment, one of his hands coming up to cup her face as he pressed his forehead against hers. She tried to reposition her weight to hold him closer, sensing how unsteady he was on his feet, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as he gently wiped away tears that she hadn’t even realized she’d shed.</p><p>One of his hands subtly went down to her stomach, gently placed right above where her belly button was located. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and for a moment, she wondered if he was listening to their child’s heartbeat again. </p><p>“Okay?” he whispered against her hair as he held her close to him once more. </p><p>In his arms, it seemed like all of the confusion and fear seemed to melt away. Gone was Jane and her forbearance of hopelessness with the red bleeding flowers that swayed in the violent breeze conjured by her subconscious. Gone was the bloodstained chill of the tiled kitchen floors, or the malevolence of Ted as he hunted them down. Gone was the apprehension that the wrath of titan-like beings would wipe them off the face of the earth. Gone was the fear that the world around them would come crashing down at any moment. </p><p>All that remained was them.  </p><p>She breathed in his scent, just drowning in the fact that they were all okay. </p><p>All three of them. </p><p>Their small family within a much bigger family. </p><p>Tom, Becky, and Tim. </p><p>Lex, Hannah, and Ethan. </p><p>John and Xander. </p><p>Lucy and Chumby. </p><p>And finally, Paul and Emma...and their little blob of light. </p><p>They’d be okay. </p><p>She leaned up and pressed a soft, brief, and gentle kiss to his lips. </p><p>“Okay,” she whispered back. </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> The bastard was falling.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Falling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Falling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Falling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Falling.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fallen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All over again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why would the Master do this to him?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Master had promised to take all of the pain away.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Take away the pain! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, how it hurt! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d hurt the people the Master wanted him to...so why did this have to happen? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why didn’t he take the pain away like he said he would? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The screams and laughter never stopped. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could hear official voices from above, talking about wounds and damage to his leg. Damage that Emma had caused. She’d been frightened of him...again...only this time it hadn’t brought him much joy. Why?  One of the voices from above mentioned something about his being in a coma… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A coma… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No.  </em>
</p><p><em> No.<br/></em> <em><br/>NO!!<br/></em></p><p><em> The Master wouldn’t leave him here!  </em> <em><br/></em></p><p>
  <em> The Master wouldn’t leave him in the cold and dark! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could bear to see it all again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No...please...not again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Despite all of the questions that he had, all of the fears and pains that would never cease in their causing him agony, he knew one thing was true.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was foolish to believe they could ever help him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Bastard remained a prisoner of the box. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And his hope was gone.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well that was fun. Once again, I am so sorry about this being so long!!!</p><p>Xander is doing his best here, okay guys?</p><p>What does it mean that they found nothing in their blood? Were they right?(Clementine McMurray is played by Ashley Clements, in my mind btw.)</p><p>Bills still blind, but he knows when Paul’s stressed. He and Paul are good friends that care for one another.</p><p>More pocket dimension stuff! Featuring Jane and more floral symbolism.</p><p>Hmmm...wonder what’s up with Jane.</p><p>Emma is worthy of love as well, and I found myself ranting about her and Paul again to nobody’s surprise.</p><p>Teds still not in a good place, and is actually comatose now. Fun times.</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!! I’m, once again, really sorry about the length of this chapter! Hopefully future chapters aren’t as long. The Google doc that I’m writing this on, is almost three hundred pages less than OTOLI, but the word count is catching up fast!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading my obscenely long chapters of fluff and fillers! The next chapter should have less fluff and more plot😬<br/>Have a wonderful day!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. And When I Fall Asleep, Sleep With a Ghost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two months later...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SO, if you saw my tumblr post from when I started this chapter a few days ago...let me just say...TIS THE SEASON FOR RICK N’ ROLLING BITCHES.</p><p>Also, the title for this chapter comes from the song “Don’t Wake Me Up” by the Hush Sound.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!: NIGHTMARE TIME EPISODE  2-3 SPOILERS, car crashes, death, implied mental breakdown, murder, stabbing, blood, medical terminology.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was often said that silence was violent in its own way when she’d been early into this world. Back when she and her siblings had come to know the universe they’d called home, and seen enough opportunity for their own conquest. She’d figured that the postulate was true in its own way. In some ways, the silence was the most clever form of violence. While it didn’t spill as much blood as she or her siblings would have liked, she knew it was the best way to get the job done, which, of course, meant more waiting for them all.</p><p>After the thrill and rush of their latest mission, over two months before, her siblings had been hungry for more, not understanding why Webby had ordered them to cut it all short when they’d seemed like they were so close to their own triumph.</p><p>Of course, they’d complied, and cut all the fun short at her beckoning, but they’d done it in a way that they couldn’t understand that she could see their endgame. She could see what they were planning to do, and if they followed her in the ways she demanded they did, they would see victory. </p><p>Humans seemed to operate on such a predictable rhythm.</p><p>Rhythm was something Apatha knew well...so Webby did her best not to dwell on it...but she did know that life was a song of its own. </p><p>Every beat of a person's heart moved with the tempo of their life and their emotion. </p><p>Every breath with the crescendo of circumstance. </p><p>It had been fascinating to her when she was younger in the world to look upon humans and see that they operated on such a predictable plane of existence. </p><p>It was almost like they were part of a play they’d not known they’d rehearsed a million times. </p><p>But, like every good song, human life must come to an end. </p><p>That was the truth. </p><p>And the truth was such an impersonal thing that it couldn’t have been cruel. </p><p>She wasn’t a monster...she was just realistic.</p><p>At that moment, of course, she was focusing on one human, in particular, peering down, just watching the seer she’d found fascination with all those years ago when she’d first been born. </p><p>Ah...that little girl. </p><p>She was a powerful little thing. Nobody would ever be able to comprehend how much power was in every cell of the child's body. </p><p>Right now, she was sleeping, her head undoubtedly dancing with several different pictures and words that portrayed their future perfectly, but she’d never be able to verbalize in a way that everyone understood. Perhaps it was just the web of fate that had dealt the little girl the hand she was given. </p><p>It seemed like a waste of energy, on the universe’s part to Webby. That all that power should be wasted on a finite life. Life began, as it always did...much like a new life was still in that state of beginning in the womb of Emma Perkins at this very moment. But...life always ended. </p><p>And if Webby’s plan succeeded, all life would end. </p><p>She smiled down at the little girl, whose chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm with the beating of her heart. </p><p>It was a shame really </p><p>Hannah Foster would have been a powerful ally in her overall plan.</p><p>But no matter. </p><p>She leaned closer to the girl, knowing that right now, she couldn’t hear her...nor see her...which was a first in terms of the girl’s abilities. </p><p>In some ways, the way that the little girl was sleeping peacefully was strange to her.</p><p>How long would the temporary peace of sleep last?</p><p>She knew of a few people they’d selected who would no longer be able to sleep in peace once everything was carried out according to plan. The girl’s sister, for that matter, was already beginning to feel the pinch of their plan. </p><p>She leaned in closer, keeping her voice low enough for the little girl to not be able to hear it.</p><p>“Sleep well, little seer.”</p><p> ---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 9th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p><em>Snow fell gracefully outside the windows, gentle and soft in comparison to the torrents that had rocked their world earlier in the day, making the night seem like it was truly filled with heavenly peace after all. Though the car was old, it handled the cold weather and the somewhat slick roads relatively well. Had anyone observed the car making its way down the different cliffside service roads, it would have looked like it was part of some vintage car commercial. That was only </em> almost <em> completely true as the song that was currently playing on the radio threatened to make him chop his own ears off.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Deck the halls of Northville High! Tis the season for rock n’ rollin’. And we’ll beat South Heights cause they’re naughty, not nice, and we’ll dunk and spike their eggnog! Spike it!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He chuckled at the sound of his wife’s snort from the passenger seat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who wrote this?” she chuckled under her breath, trying not to wake up their sleeping son in the backseat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shrugged, not taking his eyes off of the road as he drove, “I don’t know, but I’m assuming it was meant for people a lot younger than us.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She laughed, “You calling me old, Houston?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom glanced over at his lovely wife for only a second, smiling softly at the comfortable way she slumped in the passenger seat, “Never, Doctor Perkins.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Jingle! Jangle! Hey, Chris Kringle, got ice in his veins for a reason...and we’ll beat South Height with a mistletoe bite, with our secret Santa swap! Swap it! Swap it!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jane groaned, tipping her head back in an overexaggerated form of annoyance, “What do these lyrics even mean?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom chuckled, “How the hell should I know?” </em>
</p><p><em> “It sounds like they’re trying to do a Christmas mashup of </em> The Santa Clause <em> and </em> High School Musical,” <em> Jane snorted, “That could be very good for the youth, but very bad for parental ears.” </em></p><p><em> “Ehh…” Tom shrugged, “I mean...it </em> is <em> kind of catchy.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Oh no,” Jane groaned, “I swear if Tim jumps on this bandwagon…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Let’s just not let Tim go see this one until he’s…” Tom pretended to think, “How does ‘until he’s got an apartment of his own’ sound?”  </em>
</p><p><em> Jane snorted, “Sounds fantastic.” </em>   </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Deck the halls of Northville High School, falalalaLAAAAAAA-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The song cut out as Jane switched off the radio, “That’s quite enough, don’t you think?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tom sighed in relief, “Couldn’t agree more.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jane was silent for a moment, one of her hands poised on her chin as if she was deep in thought, staring out the front windshield as if she’d been presented with a puzzle she was missing a piece to. It was a look he was all too familiar with. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed, “What is it?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s what?” Jane asked, snapping out of her daze.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re thinking about work again,” Tom explained as he focused his eyes on the road, “I can tell.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane chuckled lightly running a hand through her russet curls, her light blue eyes tracing over him, her eyes suddenly containing some sort of haunted look, “I suppose… you’re learning my tricks, eh Houston?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He laughed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fact that she was able to almost understand what a person was thinking in the way she interacted with others made her very successful in her line of work. That was why she had that quaint little office right next door to the Goldstein Law Firm with appointments almost coming out her ears with as many people who had something fucked up in their lives in Hatchetfield. She had been highly recommended by the people she’d seen, and sometimes found herself working late into the night with as many patients as she saw. She was able to read people in ways he never would. But over the course of their decade-long marriage, he was able to read his wife.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s bothering you?” he asked, “Is it a patient?”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know I can’t talk about that sort of thing,” Jane sighed, “Patient-doctor confidentiality...that sort of thing.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But if it’s bothering you this much…” Tom sighed, knowing Jane wasn’t one for sharing much about her work. Jane was very much a goody-two-shoes in that regard, and he couldn’t blame her for it. Her job had become her home away from home. She’d worked hard to be the best-known psychiatrist in Hatchetfield, and she wouldn’t stake that on anything.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” Jane bit down on her lower lip, “I suppose I could just...let you listen.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She opened her purse, something that qualified more like a duffle bag with as much as she carried in there. That was the essence of Jane; always prepared for anything.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jane dig a small black cassette case out of her purse, quickly opening it and surveying each one. He chuckled to himself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Part of why Jane was as successful as she was was because she had acute attention to detail. A whole lot of people would say that she was ‘old-school’ in her methods, primarily because she recorded most of her appointments on a tape (with her patient’s consent, obviously), but it also added to the viability of the treatments she provided.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She muttered under her breath as she selected the tape she was thinking of and placed it in the cassette player of his old car. </em>
</p><p>(Wait...wasn’t he driving the minivan the night that she...)</p><p>
  <em> “Just listen to this,” she sighed, “I’m not sure what to do.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The speakers of his old mustang crackled, the sound forcing them both to silence as the shaky voice of Jane played through them. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Well, sir, <em> ” she was saying, her voice scratchy through the old car’s stereo, “ </em> I’ve started recording this session...you may begin when you are ready. <em> ”  </em></p><p><em> “ </em> Well...ma’am, <em> ” it was a man’s voice, an articulate, educated voice, sounding somewhat nervous if he had to guess the man was probably in his mid-forties “ </em> I’ve already told you the nature of my work...as you know? <em> ”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Judging from the way the man’s voice sounded, Tom imagined a wiry man with grey eyes and greying hair around his temples. For whatever reason, he was fairly certain, judging from the way he spoke alone, that this man would be played by Vincent Price. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Yes, sir, <em> ” Jane answered, her voice professional and amicable as per usual, “ </em>You’re a professor, yes?” </p><p><em> “ </em> Yes, Ma’am,” <em> The man spoke clearly, his voice wavering slightly as he addressed her.  </em></p><p><em> “ </em> And you were recently institutionalized for a…” <em> she began.  </em></p><p>“A mental breakdown, yes, we’ve been through this,” <em> the man’s voice was going impatient </em>, “I’m not gonna lie, ma’am, some of the stuff I’ve seen…”</p><p>
  <em> He went silent for a moment, his voice sounding strained and exhausted. After a few moments of silence, Jane’s voice was heard again.  </em>
</p><p>“Take your time, sir,” <em> she spoke calmly, patiently, </em>“If you want, you can just start at the beginning.”</p><p><em> “ </em>I- I don’t...the beginning?” </p><p>“Yes, sir,” <em> Jane’s voice was almost soothing, </em>“Before you were institutionalized, what do you think was the cause?” </p><p>
  <em> There was another moment of silence before the man spoke again.  </em>
</p><p>“Well…” <em> the man began, his voice shaky and hesitant, </em>“I work...worked...for the natural history museum. It was my job to keep up with the archives and document what I could to ensure that everything was properly identified and displayed...curated, you know?”</p><p>“Yes,” <em> Jane’s voice was calm, </em>“I have a son...he loves it there...My sister and I used to visit there a lot as kids, too.” </p><p>“See?”<em> Tom imagined the man smiling, </em>“That’s why I did it...why I loved that job, you know? Teaching children about the richness of Hatchetfield...you’d think that such a small town wouldn’t have much to say for it, but it really does. We’ve got enough artifacts and history to fill one of the Smithsonian buildings...it’s all truly interesting and I think the youth could totally benefit from it.”</p><p>“I agree,” <em> Jane was saying, “ </em>So...you enjoyed your job?” </p><p>“Very much, ma’am,” <em> he replied, </em>“Because of this, I had to leave it.”</p><p>“How so?” </p><p>“Well...I was going through some old volumes we’d recently acquired,” <em> the man began, </em>“But it was here that I came across a strange black book…”</p><p>(Black book…?)</p><p>“A black book?” </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am…” <em> the man was saying, </em>“And in it, I found the names of the Lord’s in-”</p><p>
  <em> What?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was this?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The tape didn’t stop as he looked over at Jane. His mind was racing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane what is this?” he asked, unable to decipher the feeling of fear that suddenly overtook him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s what?” she asked, her eyebrows raising, “I told you it’s a patient?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are the Lords in Black?” Tom suddenly asked, unable to understand why the term seemed to roll off of his tongue. How had he known those words well enough? How did he already know them?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>From the tape, he could hear the man continue to talk.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “... </em>Pokotho, Bliklotep, T’noy Karaxis, Wiggog Y’wrath...”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His heart seemed to stop in his chest as he came to a stop at a red light. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Those names...how did he know those names?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Janey?!” he found himself shouting, panic filling his veins </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane glanced over at him and his heart nearly stopped.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane...his Jane...had brown hair and brown eyes...much like Emma had.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This Jane...her eyes were different. In the place of brown eyes, was a shade of cool blue, a look that sent a chill over his bones. And her hair...her hair hadn’t been that shade of dark red...it was brown...brown like the soil. Brown like the earth she was so grounded to. The structure of her face was the same, but it was different. This was different. Something was wrong. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked upward and saw that the light had turned green. Not wanting to inconvenience the few cars behind him, he put his foot on the gas and started to pull onward. Taking a second glance over his shoulder, his eyes fell on Jane once more.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d only glanced at her for a second before her eyes widened.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While the tape continued to drone on in ways that he couldn’t understand, he could see her mouth forming the beginnings of his name, the panic in her eyes unlike anything else as the tape continued to babble incessantly, sounding like the man on it was just making up words. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was unable to comprehend the screech of the metal scraping against metal, and glass shattering as a light flashed in his vision and a deafening bang sounded in his ears. The last thing he saw was Jane’s horrified face as the car suddenly lurched forward.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> FLASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Jane!” Tom shouted, sitting up straight in bed, his voice cracking as he was pulled from sleep. </p><p>He couldn’t move. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe. </p><p>The sheets of his bed seemed to tie him down as he tried desperately to make sense of his surroundings, never seeing completely where he was. </p><p>Why did he see that?</p><p>What did it mean? </p><p>Why did it feel like his heart was suddenly popping out of his chest? </p><p>“Tom!” soft hands suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him from thrashing against the sheets that suddenly seemed too hot to him, wrapping around him, keeping him from harming himself.</p><p>Suddenly, he was hit by the familiar scent of honey and vanilla, so different from Jane’s usual honeysuckle. In some ways, the presence of the vanilla and honey calmed him down more than Jane’s flowery soap would have. As soft hands ran up and down his back, and soothing words, spoken softer and lighter than Jane’s usual voice calmed him down, the memory came back to him, and he remembered where he was.</p><p>Jane was dead. </p><p>The world had ended. </p><p>“Tom...Tom...are you okay?” </p><p>
  <em> Becky. </em>
</p><p>Her soft voice was like a balm to ease the pain his mind liked to inflict upon them. The mere touch of her hands was soothing and immediately seemed to relieve the tension that had been building beneath his bones. </p><p>“B-Becky?” he whispered into the darkness, his heart still pounding as his hands searched aimlessly in the dark for her. </p><p>He could never sleep with some form of light on in the room. Sometimes, waking up in total darkness was better for him rather than waking up and having his eyes play tricks on him as he tried to make sense out of the shadows that were cast upon the walls. </p><p>A soft hand cupped his cheek, a thumb gently running against his beard, which definitely required a trim after a few months of neglect, “I’m here.”</p><p>He sighed at the sound of her voice, his hand coming up to hold her closer. Though he couldn’t see her, he pulled her closer to him, every other sense drowning in Becky. She seemed to make all of the nightmares and pain go away. While Jane lived by the idea that demons would never go away until you allowed yourself to stay with them long enough, Becky made him feel like he was strong enough to fight them off on his own. Neither of them was wrong, in a sense, each ideology comforting in its own way. </p><p>Becky wasn’t Jane. </p><p>Just as Jane hadn’t been Becky.</p><p> He loved them both, in a way, although Jane had been laid to rest over a year ago. Both of them were so beautifully different and comforting in the ways that he’d fallen in love with them.</p><p>Jane’s face appeared in his mind. </p><p>Not the Jane with hair the color of nutmeg and eyes the color of the richest and most bountiful earth...not the Jane he’d married, but the Jane from his dream. The Jane who was still very much the woman he’d married...but different. To that Jane, there was a coldness. Her eyes, in that light shade of blue all he could feel was fear. Something so unlike what he’d felt when he was with her in life. </p><p>He shuddered as Becky hugged him again, her small hands running a comforting line through his curly hair, just as she had done when they were in high school. </p><p>“Was it that dream again?” Becky whispered. He could feel her lips moving in the space above his ear as she held him. In the usual habit, she’d maintained since high school, one of his curls was wound around her fingers, “The one with Jane...and the tapes?” </p><p>He nodded with another shudder. </p><p>The dream had only emerged recently in the cavern of his mind. </p><p>And it was always the same. </p><p>That Jane who wasn’t Jane. </p><p>The tapes. </p><p>The strange names that made no sense to him but felt...so familiar for some reason. </p><p>The 1987 Mustang. </p><p>The dream was so eerily similar to that horrible night. The night when his son had lost his mother and he’d found himself roaming an endless abyss of guilt and grief. It was so similar that it very well could have been that night...but it wasn’t. </p><p>For starters, he’d been driving the minivan when they’d been...that night. And the radio had been playing something stupid...like Silver Bells, or some song that was too slow for either of them and not the usual upbeat songs that they both liked to listen to around Christmas Time. And Jane would have <em> never </em>listened to her session tapes in the car with both him and Tim. She’d valued her career too much to violate the rules she’d followed to a T. Sure, she’d only mention in passing that she’d had a patient who’d left her disturbed, but he knew better than to pry, just as she knew better than to actually reveal some of that to him. </p><p>They were minor details to the dream that were out of place, but why had they bothered him so much?</p><p>Why would all of these minor changes to the worst night of his life make such an impact on him?</p><p>This was the third time he’d had the same dream, and he was left feeling the exact same was; like something was not right.</p><p>“Tom…” Becky whispered through the darkness, “Tom, talk to me.”</p><p>“Becky?” Tom whispered again, just wanting to say her name. To make the coldness and contention that he’d felt melt away.</p><p>Her arms wrapped around him, soft, warm, and comforting...like a warm blanket, “I’m right here, Tom...it’s okay…”</p><p>He sighed gently, allowing himself to relax.</p><p>“You know,” Becky whispered in the darkness, pulling them both down so they could lay against the comfort of the pillows, “I used to have nights like this...where dreams would come and get me...drag me down to Lord only knows where.” </p><p>Her voice wavered for a moment, and almost reflexively, he found himself pressing a gentle kiss to her hair, grateful that he was able to find the top of her head in the dark. </p><p>He knew that she had been in a shitty marriage. The fact that he’d been too wrapped up in his own life to catch onto the gossip surrounding her fucking coward of a husband who belittled her and treated her like she was some sort of cash cow while he blew all of their money on senseless things. Wherever the bastard was, Tom hoped he was dead. Only cowardly assholes beat their wives and bailed the second things got rough or they were bored. The existence of men liked that often tested Tom’s belief in good. Despite Tom’s ability to see some good in the people he meant, he knew with every fiber of his being that the man was undeserving of any forgiveness. He could see the scars that the man had left on Becky’s life any time the subject of marriage or her ex who’d left her all those years ago came up. In some ways, she’d get quiet. Though she’d gotten good at hiding it, he would always be able to see the sadness and pain that was sealed up behind her gorgeous emerald eyes. </p><p>God, she was the strongest woman he knew.  </p><p>“Yeah…” her voice suddenly sounded scared and sad before she went back to twirling some of his curls around her fingers, “Do you know what I did?” </p><p>He felt like they were back in high school for a moment. Sometimes, when she would be studying and she’d try and get him to focus so he would graduate on time, she would pose a question like she was trying to ask a kindergartner what color his crayon was. It wasn’t condescending, as if she was trying to belittle him and make him feel stupid...but rather like she was trying to get him to think, while also working easily through the concepts that were difficult for him to master. She was soft and gentle in her teachings, never once making him feel dumb, or like she was hiding anything from him. And if she was, he would wait until she was ready to share it because being a part of Becky Barnes’ life was a privilege.</p><p>“I would think about where I was,” Becky whispered softly, her words slowly becoming more and more determined as she spoke, “Who I was...and I wouldn’t let my own brain take that away from me…” </p><p>In her voice, he could hear determination and strength, as if the repetition of such a practice had done enough to make her realize how powerful and strong she really was. Though, in his eyes, she never needed to assure herself of that. Becky was strong enough in her own right. Powerful, strong, beautiful, and perfect in every way. She was as tough as nails, and yet she kept this innocence and purity about her, never allowing the bad stuff in life to sully her light. </p><p>Everyone in the world would benefit if they acted a little bit more like her, he thought. </p><p>“You can try it if you want,” Becky whispered, and he could hear the small smile in her voice, “I know that it doesn’t make the pain go away entirely...but it always helped me to count my blessings.”</p><p>Only a woman like Becky would be able to count her blessings in times such as these. </p><p>He admired her for it. </p><p>She was the smartest woman he’d ever known. Wise and powerful despite her sweetness. Though she was kind and gentle, she was by no means a pushover or meek...she was a force to be reckoned with. If she recommended something as a means to forget the dreams that plagued his mind, then by God, he would pay attention.</p><p>His mind wandered through the walls, through the barely-audible sound of his son sleep-talking as he followed Becky’s lead.</p><p>His son was okay. He was sleeping in the next room before he had to go attend class with Lucy the next morning. He still liked putting sugar on his cereal, despite being nearly ten. He was kind and energetic, filled with so much life, and he still loved Tom despite his many mistakes. Though she was dead, he knew somehow that his Jane was at peace. Wherever she was...whether it be in Emma and Paul’s pocket dimension, or the heaven he’d been raised to believe in...she was okay. Becky was here with him. She was no longer being harmed by a man who’d only deserved misfortune with the way he’d treated her. Jane’s sister was alive and back in their lives, giving Tim the big family he’d always wanted. Many of his students were okay in the wake of the literal apocalypse. He had a baby niece or nephew on the way. He’d likely have one beanpole of a brother-in-law to be the uncle to his son, who adored the man. He’d learned more about the way that he could survive without compromising his beliefs. He was okay. He was alive.</p><p>He was Thomas Dylan Houston. </p><p>He was a father, captain, brother, uncle (soon-to-be), husband, lover, and a person. </p><p>He was alive. </p><p>“Becky Barnes,” he breathed, as he found himself at peace once more, “You are a wonder.”</p><p>With that, she cuddled closer to him, and they soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. </p><p>Spared from the Nightmares that were biding their Time at the gates of his mind for the remainder of the evening. </p><p>---</p><p>Two months.</p><p>It had been two months since their last incident with the Black and White.</p><p>Since that day when they’d lost thirty people total (not including the twenty-seven zealots who’d dropped dead), they’d had no encounters with the Lords in Black.</p><p>There had been no break-ins.</p><p>No mysterious illnesses or plagues, which threatened to wipe out their small population. </p><p>No strange messages from Hannah about their impending doom, or warnings from Henry about something they were missing. </p><p>It was almost as if the second that attack had ended, and they’d gotten over the calamity, the world had been enveloped in silence. </p><p>Too silent, in his opinion. </p><p>To properly add to the situation, there was little to no development in their realm of discovery. </p><p>Dr. McMurray had made no interesting headway when it came to examining the correlations between the people who’d been targeted by Ted Spankoffski on the February seventh attack. With whatever software or caliber that Rodney and Xander could come up with, she’d been unable to decipher any meaning or any potential harm that had been done to them. She still hadn’t been able to discover any reason why Bill Woodward had been blinded (although the man was making astonishing accomplishments while teaching himself to read braille, with the assistance of a few specialists they had on base), and none of their scientists had been able to figure out why the zealots of the Watcher had just...dropped dead. </p><p>It was almost as if both ends of the wire had come to an end, and they were stuck at one point, with no idea how to move forward. </p><p>While the fact remained that the previous two months had allowed them to bounce back in a way, repairing what damage had been done to the base, improving security, all of the stuff that would hopefully increase their stability as a base, it still felt as if something was wrong. </p><p>John hadn’t been able to shake that feeling since February. He’d never been one to take the easy path in life...and this felt way too easy. The Lords in Black wouldn’t have just given up on their pursuit, but if the damage they’d wrought on the base wasn’t long-lasting (although the losses would remain forever), what was the point of the attack, overall?  Webby had always been very intentional about what moves she’d made, so why would she let them off that easily? Why would there be two months of radio silence when she very well could have wiped them out so easily? </p><p>It made no damn sense. </p><p>And the fact remained that they were no closer to answering their questions than they’d been two months before. </p><p>He sighed as he looked over the collection of files that he’d pulled from the previous few months, going over them for the millionth time. He felt like he should have remained in the here and now, in terms of leadership, but the fact that they knew next to nothing compelled him to look back over and find out what he missed. </p><p>A small knock sounded at the door and he looked up to see Xander leaning against the doorframe. </p><p>“Busy?” he asked with a small smile. </p><p>John shook his head, “Not until Emma and Tom show up with their reports.”</p><p>Xander smiled softly, the upward turn of his lips not going entirely to his eyes, “How much do you wanna bet that we’ve got nothing again?”</p><p>John sighed, “We can’t think like that, Xan...we’re just missing something...I know it.”</p><p>“I get it,” Xander sighed, “I mean...we both know that there was something wrong with February...if you don’t think there was something wrong with it, then you’re a fool.” </p><p>John nodded, “So what have we missed?” </p><p>Xander bit down on his lower lip shaking his head slightly, “Wish I knew...but you’ll be happy to know that Emma finally was able to run a full toxicological report on one of the zealots...so she should be able to provide us with some insight into what had happened that night.”</p><p>John nodded softly.</p><p>One of the mysteries that had surrounded the events of February was the fact that the zealots that had dropped dead mysteriously, not ten minutes after their attack had begun, didn’t decompose at the rate normal human cadavers did. While their resident pathology specialist, Dr. Arnold Taylor, often used a preservation medium to preserve the cadavers they’d needed to keep long-term, these cadavers made it look like they were hibernating rather than dead. Because of their lack of decomposition, Dr. Taylor was under strict orders to conduct an autopsy on at least one zealot every two weeks, seeing if they could ascertain the different rates of decomposition, delivering the toxicological findings to Emma and Professor Hidgens for analysis. Because of what samples they analyzed, Hidgens had confirmed that the bodies were indeed decomposing, but the rate at which they were doing so was incredibly slow. They still had been unable to ascertain a reason why, however, and it was quickly growing to be a subject of frustration for the entire science department. </p><p>In addition, Hidgens and Emma still hadn’t made much progress in identifying a strange component in Ted’s blood that they’d discovered the day of the attack. Strangely enough, Hidgens had hypothesized that the man was somehow in possession of <em> two </em>different blood types and minuscule yellow particles that they’d observed were somehow involved. Of course, given that Ted was comatose, they’d had the ability to draw blood when they needed it, but all the samples in the world hadn’t gotten them any closer to proving Hidgens’ hypothesis other than providing more examples of the evidence that had led him to the creation of the theory itself. What Ted’s odd blood type had to do with the gravity of the situation, John wasn’t sure, but if it allowed them to better understand what they were dealing with, then he would deal with the Professor’s madness for a little while longer. </p><p>One the subject of the Professor, despite being a permanent resident of the brig, which they’d made more habitable since Hidgens was being kept there, improving conditions greatly in terms of making it into some sort of miniature room and less of a medieval prison cell, he’d actually been rather amicable and helpful. In terms of developing a sustainable water source and form of agriculture, he’d actually been one of the best consultants they had on the case and was very much trying to prove himself to be a useful asset to their cause. All of this went to say that they still couldn’t trust him completely, especially in the regard that Xander believed the man knew more than he was letting on since he’d revealed to Xander that he’d known about Paul and Emma’s child before any of them knew. He’d kept that information secret, thankfully, but every second he saw the man, John had to hold his breath that the old man wouldn’t reveal anything to the wrong people. </p><p>Turning his mind away from the unnerving old man, he looked at Xander. </p><p>“Have you seen them yet?” John asked as Xander sat himself down in one of the armchairs in his office, “The reports?”</p><p>“No,” Xander sighed, “But hopefully they document the slightest change...unlike the last few.”</p><p>John couldn’t even bring himself to chuckle lightly at his husband’s exasperation. He didn’t want to give up on the fact that something was wrong. Something was wrong. They’d have to be foolish to believe that Webby and her siblings would be so lax as to allow them to go. No, there had to be some sinister reason for their sudden silence. He wouldn't’ allow himself to grow comfortable, not when it had become a pattern of behavior for things to be quiet and then, like a bolt of lightning, the peace would be interrupted, coming crashing down around them all. He owed it to the people he protected to keep that from happening.</p><p>Another knock sounded on the door and he glanced up to see Tom and Emma in the doorway. Emma, as per usual, looked mildly tired and annoyed as she seemed to wrestle with the large stack of paper’s she held in her arms, balancing on her newly adjusted prosthetic, designed to help her cope with the changes she’d undergo during her pregnancy. As she wrestled with the files she held, Tom extricated a few from his sister-in-law’s grasp, as to make it slightly easier for her. </p><p>“I’ve got it,” Emma grumbled, as she made her way into the office, quickly finding a seat on the sofa, nodding at Xander and then John as she went, “Boss...boss’ husband, how have y’all been doing in the less than twenty-four hours since I saw you last?”</p><p>John smiled at Emma’s tired bluntness. As their frustration with the situation grew, the need for formality almost dwindled into nothingness, especially as their small unit of friends grew closer and more family-like. It was nice, John figured, to have people in his life that he didn’t have to act so uptight and stiff around people. They’d made it a habit to all convene at John and Xander’s apartment for dinner at least once a week, trying to get everyone updated on their progress with the case.</p><p>“Hi, Emma,” John smiled before glancing up at Tom, who seemed to sway tiredly in the doorway, “You okay, Tom?” </p><p>“Huh-Oh!” Tom straightened and cleared his throat, “Sorry...I just didn’t...I didn’t sleep very well last night.”</p><p>Tom indeed looked like he’d not gotten much sleep the night before. While the man typically looked like he was weary when it came to something, his eyes were far more sunken in than usual, and his stance wasn’t nearly as sturdy in general as it normally was. </p><p>Xander raised an eyebrow, “Do you think you’ll stay awake for this meeting?” </p><p>Tom chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, I’ll be fine…let's just get this over with, okay?” </p><p>John nodded. Honestly, everyone around the base was tired. It seemed as though the endless work and questions that they were supplied with did it’s best to keep them on their toes. Any rest at all was a rarity, but usually, Tom was the best of them when it came to staying awake and alert. </p><p>Emma nudged Tom, “If you want me and Paul to take Tim for the night so you can get some sleep…”</p><p>“That’s fine,” Tom nodded, “Tim’s not the problem..I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.” </p><p>“I feel that,” Xander nodded, “A couple of nights ago, I dreamed about my sixth-grade science fair, only the ceiling was made entirely out of crayons and my science teacher somehow had her soul transposed with the soul of the fake skeleton we had hanging on the sidewall..we named her Skully for whatever reason.”</p><p>John chuckled lightly before leaning forward, “Be sure to get some sleep tonight, Houston...we need everyone at their best.”</p><p>“Don’t I know it,” Tom sighed, “So, have we found anything new?”</p><p>John looked down at the files which had formed some kind of calamitous collage on his desk, making it look like his desk had been made from spare files and papers. </p><p>“Since the last time we met,” John began, scanning over the files that sat before him, “I personally don’t have anything of interest to bring up, so if needed, we can go straight to anything Tom has to offer.”</p><p>He glanced over at the half-asleep man sitting beside his sister-in-la, who snapped to attention at the sound of his own name, “Hmm…?” </p><p>John sighed slightly, “How are things from your oversight in the mechanics’ department and operations department?” </p><p>One of the major casualties of the attacks that occurred on February seventh was the death of the mechanics’ department head, Agent Welling. Because of this loss, and Tom’s previous experience in teaching shop at Hatchetfield High, it was determined that Tom should step into the position. It was a lot of work, but Tom seemed to be handling it well, but no doubt it made the man lose a few hours of sleep. Tom sighed, “Well, the mechanics’ department has just about completed the final repairs on the electrical system so the lights in the residential quarters and the schooling areas don’t flicker out-”</p><p>“And thank God for that,” Emma chuckled, shaking her head, “The lights went out while we were having dinner the other night and Paul thought we were in a crisis again.”</p><p>Tom smiled slightly, “Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem anymore...and with the help of Rodney, we were able to update the servers so more information should be retained with little difficulty. The piping project is also underway, so we should be able to reroute more water to the residential warehouse.”</p><p>“Great,” John nodded. This was good news. Any updates they could make to the base in order to make things easier for their people was worth celebrating, “And operations?” </p><p>“Well,” Tom shrugged, “Those new civilian recruits have potential, but it will take some time before they’re at our standard...then again, we are in a time of crisis so we might not get to run through <em> all </em>protocol.”</p><p>“They’re aware of the circumstances?” John asked.</p><p>Tom nodded, “Yes.”</p><p>“And none are willing to back out?” John continued, “Despite the danger?”</p><p>“No, none of them are willing to back out,” Tom nodded, “All very bright despite most of them being used to desk jobs in Hatchetfield.”</p><p>John nodded. Since June was essentially responsible for the loss of several of their best operatives, and the recent attack on the base had dwindled their numbers, John had made it possible for Tom to have anyone who was willing to work for it, to join their ranks while people who had previously held a position in the operations department were able to be trained for operations in the field specifically. Though it wasn’t ideal, it was all they had, and since they had no idea if any form of military personnel had survived outside of Hatchetfield, they had no idea of whether or not they could get reinforcements anywhere else. </p><p>“Well done, Tom,” John nodded, “Anything else?” </p><p>Tom shook his head, “Other than my being tired out of my mind, I can’t think of anything else.”</p><p>John nodded, “At least we’re making progress domestically.”</p><p>He turned to Emma, “How goes the lab work?” </p><p>Emma sighed, “Well...we have a lot of samples, but not nearly as many results as we would like. Hidgens and I still have no clue what those things in Ted’s blood are, and the weekly bloodwork run on Paul and the other victims from Ted’s attack have come up empty still…”</p><p>She looked down guiltily as Tom put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, “That’s a good thing though...right? I mean, it’s been two months and nothing bad has happened to us…” </p><p>“I mean,” Emma looked down, “Yes...in some ways that’s a good thing...but I can’t imagine why they’d go through all that trouble to attack all of you without…” she sighed deeply, “I’m not ready to let this go...at least until we’re sure.”</p><p>John took note of the way one of her hands subtly went to her stomach as her eyes fell. He felt extremely sorry for the woman, and honestly, was in awe of her resilience.</p><p>Since Paul and the others had been attacked by Ted, it became clear that Emma had become extremely fearful for Paul’s safety as well as the safety of their child. Though Emma was, by all means, the most fearless woman that John had ever encountered, the addition of their child and the presence of the Lords in Black and their apparent vendetta against her and Paul made her be more careful about the world around her. Still, she refused to give up the fight that she and Paul had both made an extreme effort towards completing. Neither of them had ceased in their devotion to making the world a better place. </p><p>Rather than commenting on her mild distress, John kept the ball rolling in their meeting, “Xander mentioned that you finished the most recent toxicological reports?”</p><p> Emma looked up with a sharp inhale, “Yes...it would be nice if we actually had a specialized toxicologist on staff, but with the assistance of both Hidgens and Doctor Taylor, I’ve managed to get the hang of it.” </p><p>She shuffled through the collection of papers and files that she’d brought in with her, until she extracted a pale purple manilla folder from it, smiling softly at it as she drew it out. </p><p>“The subject for this Autopsy was a woman by the name of Iris McCauley,” Emma said as she passed the file over to John, “According to what records exist, as well as the testimony of Becky, she was seventy-six years old at her time of death.”</p><p>John opened the folder and saw the picture of an old woman, presumably taken from a former driver’s license or photographic identification. It was a picture of a lovely old woman, with brown eyes and an angular face, smiling brightly for the camera.</p><p>“She was found dressed as a fortune teller at a carnival,” Emma explained, “And once Dr. Taylor examined the belongings she had on her person when she was brought in for the autopsy’s conduction, she was carrying business cards which read ‘Madame Iris; fortune teller and psychic extraordinaire’. Judging from Doctor Taylor’s assessment of it, this was the role she was forced to play under the control of the Watcher. Even the name seems to fit with the eye theme this ‘Watcher’ has going on.”</p><p>
  <em> Iris. Watcher. Eye. </em>
</p><p>“Seems fitting,” John mused, “You think she was under the Watcher’s control like that?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Emma nodded, “It’s a working theory, but even the job description of a fortune teller is to <em> see </em>things...so yeah, it makes sense.”</p><p> “And it could fit with the theme of eyes that the other zealots seemed to have going on,” Xander pointed out, “I mean, we had the Barker, who we’re guessing ran a strength test booth...and that guy from the shooting range. Both are jobs that revolve around eyesight…well...eyesight in terms of seeing what you need to hit.”</p><p>John shuddered at the memory of the Barker. </p><p>The way that man had gotten into his head so easily, broken down every layer of programming and training that he’d obtained in his thirty-seven years of life, was unnerving. He’d worn a kind smile and an intriguing gaze, but underneath the appearance of a friendly carnival-worker, there was something sinister and malevolent. Whatever the Watcher had done to those people...it was powerful. </p><p>“And it could have a connection to Bill’s blindness,” Emma offered quietly. </p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” </p><p>“I mean,” Emma bit down on her lower lip, “Bill suddenly goes from having perfect eyesight to being blind following Ted’s attack? A trait no one else who was attacked exhibited?”</p><p>“You’re saying the Watcher had a hand in blinding Woodward?” John asked, leaning in as he got more and more intrigued with Emma’s theory </p><p>“I mean...there’s no way of knowing for sure,” Emma shrugged, “But it’s something to think about.”</p><p>John nodded, “Something to think about it better than nothing…”</p><p>Xander nodded and leaned forward, “What about the toxicology and tissue analysis, what were you able to tell from that?” </p><p>Emma sighed and pulled out a separate folder, “Not much other than the woman is definitely decomposing.” </p><p>“Were you able to make a calculation as to how long it would have taken the woman to decompose completely?” Xander asked, looking enthralled by the idea. </p><p>Emma let out another heavy sigh, “I wasn’t, but Hidgens did. If he was right, then his postulated theory suggested that it would have been six years and three months before we actually saw any active decay.” </p><p>Xander was silent for a moment, before looking up at her, “Three years?” </p><p>“And six months,” Emma nodded, “But her cells were just <em> barely starting </em> to see any decay. In some ways, the Watcher definitely changed their biology to the point at which their bodies decay at an <em> extremely slow </em>rate.”</p><p>“Was there no different indication of how they died?” Xander asked. </p><p>“Same as last time,” Emma nodded, “A kind of neurotoxin, we’re assuming, still similar to ricin in structure, but like Ted’s blood, it has a component we still haven’t been able to identify.”</p><p>Tom sighed, “You know, I’m really getting tired of all of these biological components we aren’t able to identify completely.”</p><p>Emma nodded, “Me too. Hidgens is in the process of identifying their properties, but as you know that whole process has been at a standstill recently.”</p><p>John nodded, “At least we’ve confirmed a few things. Some minor progress is better than none, I suppose.”</p><p>The four of them were silent for a moment, all of them awkwardly sitting there as they failed to comprehend how little they had. </p><p>“Man,” Emma sighed suddenly, “This fucking blows...feeling like we don’t know enough.” </p><p>“I heartily concur,” John muttered, “But at least we have some idea of what track we’re on...and at least, for now, we have peace.” </p><p>Emma nodded, her hand gently going over her stomach again as she was staring at the wall, looking like her mind was in a million different places at once. </p><p>“How are things, Emma?” he asked, nodding in her general direction, the implication of his question being very clear, “If...of course, you don’t mind my asking.” </p><p>“Oh, you mean with the…” Emma gestured to her stomach and he nodded, “Well, personally, I could do without the soreness, nausea, and general tiredness, but the baby is growing well, Phillipa says.”</p><p>John nodded, “When's the next sonogram?” </p><p>“Tomorrow,” Emma nodded smiling softly, “Paul’s super excited for it. This time it’ll look less like a blob and maybe more like an alien...and since the first three months are up, we’re gonna get to tell Bill when we have dinner with him and Alice in a few days, so that’ll be nice.”</p><p>“That’s very good,” Xander nodded, “Are you gonna find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”</p><p>“No,” Emma shook her head, “We want to play a Schrodinger's cat type situation with this...if that makes sense. Part of me is impatient to know, but I know it’ll be better to know when the baby comes.”</p><p>Tom smiled, “Jane was impatient. She didn’t want to wait to find out with Tim.” He suddenly shuddered slightly before clearing his throat and looking up at Emma, “Have you and Paul thought about any names?”</p><p>Emma chuckled lightly, “What is this? How’d we get from talking about the fate of the universe to the latest on this kid?”</p><p>“Well,” Xander shrugged, “You can’t blame us for being excited...we’re all going to be competing for favorite uncle...and once Woodward enters the competition, you <em> know </em> there’ll be blood in the water.”</p><p>Emma laughed softly, “Well, I’m glad to know they’ll come into the world with such a big family.”</p><p>Though the comment had a sarcastic air to it, John took note of the softness in Emma’s eyes that she wouldn’t normally reveal to anyone. In some sort of way, he could tell that the fact that so many had already planned to love and protect her child meant a great deal to her. Perhaps it meant that she and Paul wouldn’t have to be alone in this, and that was certainly what he wanted her to feel. </p><p>“Well, on that note,” Emma sighed, “We haven’t thought of any <em> good </em>names yet. Although, I’m more than willing to call the baby ‘Spawn’ and get that done with.”</p><p>“I think John’s suggestion of ‘hybrid’ was better,” Xander laughed.</p><p>John smiled at the sound of Xander’s laughter. In these days, despite the strange, unearthly peace that they were left with, a laugh from Xander truly put him at ease. In some ways, a laugh was rare, but it was also so beautiful in its own way. </p><p>“Alright,” John sighed, “Anything else we need to be updated on?” </p><p>There was a moment of silence as they all glanced between one another, silently checking to see if anyone else would speak up. </p><p>John sighed. Part of him had hoped that they’d get more information and have more ideas, but he supposed that the fruits of this meeting were better than what they were normally used to. </p><p>“Alright,” John smiled, “You guys are free to go when you would like...and we’re still on for dinner this week, right?” </p><p>“Of course,” Tom nodded, “I need to break into some of your whiskey if that’s alright.” </p><p>“Not fair,” Emma grumbled, as she stood, gathering her files and papers together, “I’ll get back to you if there’s anything else of interest going on in the lab other than the grow lights malfunctioning...again.” </p><p>“I look forward to it,” John smiled slightly as Tom opened the door. With one final salute, Tom and Emma left.</p><p>John leaned forward with a small sigh before starting to stack and organize the papers that had littered his desk. </p><p>“You okay?” Xander asked quietly, silently moving beside him to help. </p><p>“I just wish there was more we could be doing, Xan,” John muttered as he opened his filing cabinet and started placing the papers in the correct folders, “ I mean...we’re finding ways to help people survive, but after the attack in February…Emma’s right, I mean...we can’t allow ourselves to believe that the attack was for nothing.”</p><p>Xander nodded, “I know, but at least we haven’t been confronted with a problem. </p><p>“Not yet,” John nodded, “But when? They aren’t going to just let us live down here in peace, Xander. The Lords in Black are still up there.”</p><p>“I know,” Xander sighed, “Let's just focus on the here and now, okay? Take it one day at a time, John.”</p><p>John sighed as he closed the filing cabinet, allowing a small noncommittal hum to leave him in acknowledgment of Xander’s point. Of course, Xander was right, as per usual. John might not have liked the idea of ‘taking things one day at a time’ but he couldn’t deny that he’d probably be thinking more clearly if he followed that idea. </p><p>Noticing his slight distress, intuitive as always, Xander placed his hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“John,” he said calmly, making John look up at him and meet his dark eyes slowly, “Take it one day at a time.”</p><p>John nodded with another long sigh. </p><p>“One day at a time.”</p><p>---</p><p> “So you’re meeting again next week?” Paul called from the bathroom after spitting out some of the toothpaste foam that remained in his mouth. </p><p>“Yeah,” Emma called from their bedroom, sounding only slightly distracted, “We should have the next projections for the agriculture output, so that’s something John will want to see.” </p><p>Paul smiled to himself as he could hear the furious sound of typing coming from the other room, implying that Emma was hard at work. In some ways, the sound of her typing was almost therapeutic. He could almost picture her furrowed brow as she leaned a little too close to the screen as she worked hard. On what, he’d never understood, but he’d listen to her rant about it for the entire day if he could.</p><p>He finished brushing his teeth, wiping away the excess foam from around his mouth, and wiped his face, before settling down and leaving the bathroom, leaning in the doorway as his eyes fell on Emma.</p><p>True to his assumption, Emma was hard at work, having surrounded herself with several papers and files that had formed some sort of nest around her and her laptop as she peered down at the screen. She was chewing on the drawstring of her hoodie, which worked well to conceal the slight protrusion of her stomach as she’d surpassed the end of her first trimester, her dark eyes focused intently on what she was working on.</p><p>She didn’t look up as she spoke, snapping him from his thoughts, “You gonna keep staring at me, nerd?” </p><p>He smiled to himself and shook his head,  walking over to his side of the bed and climbing in, trying hard not to jostle her own papers, “You actually gonna go to sleep at a reasonable time?” </p><p>She hummed slightly and shrugged, “Let me just finish this one small section, and then I’ll sleep, I promise.”</p><p>“Mmm-hmmm,” Paul hoped his hum was as sarcastic as possible. </p><p>“I’m serious, man!” she chuckled, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, “I’m too tired to stay up late again...and I’m pretty sure the blob won’t let me.” </p><p>Paul laughed to himself at the sound of the nickname. Since that first sonogram that they’d had with Dr. Kirk, they’d both taken to calling the baby ‘the blob’. Because they were both hilariously bad at coming up with nicknames, as well as actual baby names, ‘the blob’ seemed to fit it best.</p><p>He lay back against the pillows, watching her work, muttering to herself under her breath as she glanced over one folder to her right. This had become something of a habit of theirs in the previous few months. Oftentimes, they’d both be up, their bed covered in files and paperwork that they had, trying to aid the efforts of PEIP while following John’s suggestions at maintaining their own safety. </p><p>Emma stifled a small yawn, stretching her arms upward before glancing down at the computer with a tired sigh.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow, sitting up to gather some of her papers in his hands, “Time to hit the sack?” </p><p>She nodded tiredly, closing her laptop, “Yeah...I could always finish with that tomorrow…”</p><p>“How much do you have to finish?” he asked, helping her gather her work, squinting down at the extremely small type font, detailing big scientific words he wouldn’t even try to understand. </p><p>“Just a section or two,” Emma shrugged, taking the papers from him and placing them in a large file folder, “Nothing that’s due until next week, though.”</p><p>She yawned again and he smiled at her, “Sleep time?” </p><p>She nodded, “Yeah...If the blob had its way, ‘d just sleep for the next century...if that’s all the same to you?”</p><p>He chuckled lightly as she leaned over and flicked off her lamp, snuggling close to him as they both found the comfort. </p><p>“Don’t forget,” she whispered in the darkness, her head finding a place around his shoulder, “We’ve got the appointment with Dr. Kirk tomorrow.”</p><p>“How could I forget?” he found himself smiling again. His hand found its way gently to her stomach, where it was met by her own hand. Their fingers intertwined over it, and she squeezed his hand gently. He was too excited for the appointment to come. It was strange that he would be <em> excited </em>to be visiting Phillipa in the infirmary, but this was a subject of joy and excitement on his part. Tomorrow would be the three-month sonogram, which meant they would get to see their child, get to see how much the baby had grown since they’d last looked upon that little blob. It was a nice change from the weekly checkups he had to have with Dr. McMurray.</p><p>He shuddered at the sudden memory of Ted’s attack on him and the others. </p><p>Though Ted had been comatose for over two months, the remnants of the attacks definitely left their own brutal scar in some way. Not only did he live with the sneaking fear of their lack of understanding of <em> what </em>exactly had happened, but he had to make the weekly trips to the infirmary to get checked out by Dr. McMurray, which often entailed more blood tests, routine physicals, diagnostic scanning, and the occasional spinal tap, which made his anxiety feel as though it were always lingering at the back of his mind. </p><p>Because of that, trips to see Phillipa about the baby were an absolute joy to him and a great change of pace.</p><p>Emma sighed contentedly and snuggled closer into his side, her face nestling into his neck. He pressed a kiss to Emma’s head as he suddenly recognized her slow pattern of breathing, indicating that she was either already asleep, or she was very close to being asleep. </p><p>“Good night, Emma,” he whispered, closing his own eyes and allowing sleep to flood his senses.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Paul?”  her voice broke through his thoughts instantly, “Paul, you okay there?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He opened his eyes and found her, standing behind the counter at Beanies, strands of messy brown hair hanging in her face as her dark eyes searched him inquisitively.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He glanced down and found that he was wearing his dark brown work suit, a cup of steaming hot black coffee in his hand.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He suddenly remembered where he was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was his break. He’d gone down to Beanies to see Emma before he had to go back to work and finish up his weekly reports. He’d ordered a single black coffee and found himself staring at Emma as she put a fresh pot of the shitty coffee on. He and Emma had been dating for nearly three months and things were going amazingly. How he’d ended up with someone as wonderful as she was beyond him. The fact that he’d not yet bored her to death was amazing to him, and he hoped that he made her happy just as much as she made him happy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?” Emma smiled teasingly, “Earth to Paul? You there?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh-Uh...yeah,” he snapped back to reality, “Sorry...just lost in thought, I guess…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He fished a five-dollar bill out of his pocket and dropped it into the jar. Emma rolled her eyes and smiled, “You know you don’t have to do that anymore…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I like to,” he smiled, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to her cheek, “We’re still on for dinner tonight?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yep,” she nodded, “My place after work. You pick me up after my shift?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sounds great,” he took another moment to look at her. This beautiful barista that he would have never thought he had a chance in the world to end up with, “I’ll see you then, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “See ya, Paul,” she smiled fondly, “Now get out of here before Davidson sends the hounds after you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled at her bluntness before waving slightly, leaving the coffee shop and the woman he loved to return to the boring job of typing up reports and avoiding Ted- who he’d been lucky to avoid as he took his break to go down to Beanies.   </em>
</p><p><em> As he made his way down Squirrel street, he found himself admiring how </em> normal <em> everything looked in Hatchetfield.  </em></p><p>(Something wasn’t right)</p><p>
  <em> All of the trees were still wrapped in the golden Christmas lights which would turn on by nightfall in the early weather of January. For once, it hadn’t snowed and despite the chill in the air, the sun was shining, making the day seem all the brighter. As he came to the corner of the street he allowed himself a moment of relief when he noticed the absence of the Greenpeace woman who’d made it her personal job to make his trips to Beanies a living hell. He turned the corner, preparing to walk the two extra blocks down to CCRP. </em>
</p><p>(One extra block. It was one extra block)</p><p>
  <em>Suddenly, the sound of some slight rattling coming from one of the alleyways caught his attention. </em>
</p><p>(Where had this alleyway come from? Most of the buildings in Hatchetfield aside from CCRP were in a conjoined strip)</p><p>
  <em> He peered down the alleyway, suddenly unable to shake the sudden feeling of unease that filled his veins. It seemed as though this alleyway had been painted in shadow while the rest of the world was painted in sunlight. For whatever reason, against every fiber of his instinct, which screamed at him to walk the other way, he found himself stepping into the alleyway.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?” he called, stepping around the bags of garbage and dumpsters that littered the small brick strait. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?...hello?...hello?” his own voice echoed back at him, sending a chill through his bones. Backing up, he jumped and dropped his coffee, spilling it over the cold pavement as he backed into a dumpster.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, enough of this…” he whispered, turning around to leave the alleyway, only to find that the street from which he’d come was suddenly a brick wall...the back of a redbrick building. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What the hell?” his heart pounded in his chest as he whirled around, looking for the exit to the alleyway, his eyes frantically searching until they came across the light from the other side of the alleyway. He could hear the sound of cars and people talking as they made their way past the alleyway. Almost instantly, he found some relief in his heart and he began to move towards it, walking as fast as his long legs would carry him. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> SCreeeEeeeeeEEeee </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Like nails on a chalkboard, he came to a stop at the sound of metal scraping against metal. Loud and chilling, fear possessing every muscle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What was that?” he whispered to himself as he looked around the alleyway, the light from the exit suddenly seeming extremely far away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could force his legs to move any faster, a hand grabbed him roughly from behind and turned him around, forcing a small yelp to leave him as his whole body shook.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you want? Please I don’t have anything!” a string of pleas left his lips as he refused to open his eyes, stiffening up to protect himself from the assailant, whose grip only grew harder and more painful. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Boo.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyes flew open as a sharp pain, unlike anything he’d ever known before seemed to consume his entire being. He could feel something sharp in his chest, warm blood soaking through his shirt making his breath waver as a cry of pain left him. He couldn’t bring himself to cry for help as his eyes fell on the hand of his assailant, holding him tightly as one of his hands thrust something that could have only been a knife into his chest. The sight of his own blood and the knife made him whimper, even as the knife was removed and came down upon him again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “P-Please…” he gasped.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shh…” his attacker whispered, “It’ll all be over soon…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That voice… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It couldn’t be... </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  His eyes traced upward, following the arm of his attacker, taking note of the tiny tattoo of the number twenty-three on his wrist. Paul paid the tattoo no mind as he glanced up to meet the face of the person, who was still digging the knife deep past his flesh, his agony unending. He looked up and saw…. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Himself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His heart could have stopped the second he met eyes with a man, whose face could have been the exact reflection of his own. They had the same blue eyes. The same floppy brown hair. The same nose. Same mouth. Same ears.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The same.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What...what…” he choked, unable to keep talking as the pain in his chest spread, inhibiting his ability to breathe. He could taste blood in his mouth, making him cough as the other version of him dropped him, watching him almost in amusement as he sank pathetically to the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to move. It hurt so bad. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as the chill of the ground seemed to carry into his bones.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was dying.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was going to die.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d never see Emma again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The reflection of himself (another version of himself? Or was it another person altogether?) said nothing as he watched Paul sink to the ground. Paul shuddered at the feeling of his own blood pooling around him, sticking to his skin as his lungs suddenly failed to take in air properly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gasping, Paul could only watch helplessly as the other version of himself knelt down, raised the knife, and... </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He shot up straight in bed, gasping for breath, his hands flying to his chest where he could have sworn he’d been feeling unending pain. As he caught his breath, he found that he wasn’t bleeding. There was no pain. There was no other version of him. There was no alleyway. Just the soft, tangled sheets and blankets.</p><p>He was in his and Emma’s room. </p><p>It had just been a dream.</p><p>“Paul?” </p><p>He opened his eyes and found Emma, laying next to him, one of her eyes sleepily cracked open as she regarded him. One of her hands gently went up to his shoulder. </p><p>“You alright?” she mumbled sleepily, pushing herself upward into a sitting position, leaning softly against him. </p><p>Relief caught in his breath as he saw her, her messy dark hair cascading down her back, the soft curve of her stomach concealing where their child was resting. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, listening for her…</p><p><em> Thump Thump </em> Thump <em> Thump Thump </em> Thump <em> Thump Thump </em>Thump</p><p>He sighed deeply at the sound of the two rhythms at once, both of them reminding him of reality. That he had a family who loved him. That this was the real world. Not some fucked-up conjuring of his mind. Their heartbeats were there. They told him the truth.  </p><p>She was alive.</p><p>Their baby was alive. </p><p>He was alive. </p><p>It was just a dream. </p><p>She pulled herself closer to him, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder blades comfortingly as she nestled tiredly closer to him. Clearly understanding that elaborating on what he’d experienced was something he didn’t intend to do. He sighed at the feeling of her warmth, The softness and love that he felt when he was around her.</p><p>She was real.</p><p>He exhaled in relief, wiping away at the tears in his eyes as she suddenly looked more awake. He sank backward, pulling her warmth with him. In the slight light from their false window, he could see the way her brow was furrowed in concern. </p><p>“Are you alright?” she whispered into his chest, holding him close. He was certain she could feel the pounding of his heart. </p><p>“Yeah,” he choked out, wiping away the tears, “Yeah I’m fine.”</p><p>He pressed a kiss to her hair as he held her closer, just needing her warmth at the moment. </p><p>She was there. </p><p>He wasn’t dying.</p><p>He wasn’t alone.</p><p>“It was just a dream.” </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then... that was fun?</p><p>Webby...what are you planning?!?</p><p>Poor Tom, nightmares aren’t fun, but at least he has Becky.</p><p>John’s trying to be a good leader (and he’s doing amazing).</p><p>Paul is in awe of Emma and her hard work but also encourages healthy sleeping habits...but again, nightmares aren’t fun.</p><p>What do these dreams mean?<br/>Do they mean anything?</p><p>Anyway, Tis the season for Rick n’ Rolling (this is my legacy).</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like! I’d love to hear your theories and feedback!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please stay safe and healthy!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. All My Life I’ve Been Headed For Hell, But Never Did I Think I’d Drag You Down as Well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A day in the life of silence.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m a legal adult now...look out world😂</p><p>Anyway, the title for this chapter comes from the song ”We Have it All” by Pim Stones.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: mentions of abusive parenting, wrongful imprisonment, NIGHTMARE TIME SPOILERS (even if the episodes are being released today), drowning, pain, fear, cyclops bitch</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 10th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lex’s hand tightened around Ethans as they stood before the judge, unable to stop the other from shaking as the woman in black robes delivered the sentence. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> ” </em> <em> If you get caught, Alexis,” her mother had said, not even bothering to correct herself for mistaking Lex’s name, “I ain’t payin’ bail. You’re on your own. You and that good-for-nothing boyfriend of yours, you understand?” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lex hadn’t wanted to do this, but it was the best way to keep their bitch of a mother off of her scent. It was the best way for her to protect Hannah. She hadn’t wanted to do it. But with Frank cutting her pay, Lex could no longer support them enough to the point at which Hannah could eat every day. It had been her mother’s idea...but Lex knew that if she ratted that horrible woman out, Hannah would be alone. Hannah needed someone. Somewhere. Hannah was a special soul, and while the last thing she wanted was to leave Hannah alone with their mother, she knew that Pamela was better than nobody. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ethan’s hand gripped hers gently, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking at her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t want to drag him into this. He didn’t deserve to be caught up in their mother’s bullshit. But he’d wanted to help her. He’d wanted to help Hannah. He’d promised to get them all to California one day. A lot of good had done when the cops showed up and found them with several bottles of her mother’s prescription pain medications.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alexandra K. Foster, Ethan A. Green, you both have been found guilty of the unlawful possession with the intention to distribute narcotics.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lex’s heart sank, tears brimming in her eyes. Tears she refused to allow to fall as she did her best to listen to the rest of her sentence.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It is because of this offense that I am sentencing Mr. Green to three years in prison, Miss Foster will be imprisoned for five.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five years.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five years in prison. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five years of her life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She wouldn’t get out until she was twenty-three. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah would be left alone with their monster of a mother for five years. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She held on desperately to Ethan’s hand as the policemen tried to separate them, not wanting to let go of him. She wagered a glance up at him and saw the desperation in his eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh God, how much had he sacrificed for her?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t deserve this.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t deserve to go to prison for her sins. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His sentence, mercifully, was smaller than hers...so maybe he could get Hannah away from the bitch who’d given birth to her while there was still time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was tugged away from him, and she didn’t even try to put up a fight, all she could do was convey to him, with as much sincerity as she could as they were both escorted out of the room that she was sorry.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s not fair!” Lex could hear Ethan’s dad shout from the back of the courtroom, “That’s not fair! This isn’t their fault! My boy and Lex would never do this! It’s her bitch of a mother’s fault!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lex’s heart broke as she heard Ethan’s dad struggle against the policemen removing him from the courtroom, looking up to see Ethan staring at the ground, tears brimming in his eyes at the sound of his father’s desperation.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please! It’s not their fault! It’s that woman! It’s that-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t get to finish the sentence as he was removed from the courtroom.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lex looked up as the court was adjourned and they were slowly being brought out of the room when she caught sight of her mother.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That contemptible, horrible bitch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The woman had put on her best pair of jeans and the cleanest and most-revealing blouse she’d owned for this occasion, looking slightly less unkempt and like perhaps she was the responsible mother she’d claimed to be to the jury, even bothering to put on some bright red lipstick and eyeliner to perhaps pick up a pity-hook-up from one of the  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If there was anything Lex had inherited from her mother, it was the ability to lie through her teeth and somehow get what it was she needed. Lex depended on it for survival while Pamela used it for fun. For Lex, it was a talent. For Pamela, it was an art.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pamela’s testimony had done nothing but incriminate Lex and Ethan further, which looked counterproductive to Lex, as she had been the only source of income to their tiny trailer home. Lex had been the only one to get them all fed while their mother squandered the money on whatever it was that she could use to make herself feel important.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She could see her mother fake-crying to someone who’d come up and asked if she was okay. Her eyes locked onto the eyes belonging to the woman who’d birthed her, and for a moment...only a moment...Pamela’s facade wavered, a small upturn of her lip telling Lex that she’d lost.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now, Hannah was alone with her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now, Lex couldn’t protect her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Lex had never felt so weak in her life.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Lexi?” </p><p> </p><p>She gasped and was snapped out of her nap, sitting up straighter at the kitchen table, her neck aching from the awkward angle at which she was sleeping. As her vision adjusted to the light she was able to tell where she was more clearly. </p><p>There was no courtroom, no judges, and most importantly, <em> no Pamela </em>. </p><p>Through her blurry vision, she could just make out the figure of her sister, dressed in her pajamas, her head tilted to the side, as if she’d just been told a joke that she couldn’t understand. </p><p>“Banana?” Lex mumbled, looking down at the stack of papers she’d just fallen asleep on top of, “You need something?”</p><p>Hannah shook her head slowly, her eyes looking concerned as she regarded Lex, “You were sad…”</p><p>Lex sighed softly, brushing a hand through her messy hair, “Yeah...it was just a really weird dream, Hannah.” </p><p>“Not weird,” Hannah shook her head, “Bad. Don’t know why...but bad.”</p><p>Lex raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” </p><p>“You were scared,” Hannah nodded, “Afraid...heartbeat fast.”</p><p>Lex bit down on her lower lip, “Yeah...you could say that…”</p><p>Hannah sat down in the chair beside her, her brown eyes wide and worried as her small hands traced patterns over Lex’s arm, “What was it about?” </p><p>Lex glanced down at the pattern of the woodgrain on the kitchen table. Hannah was the most perceptive girl Lex had ever met. In some ways, she knew there was no lying to Hannah without getting caught. The only time she’d ever dared lie to Hannah was when she suddenly found herself worrying about feeding them, and even then, she could tell Hannah knew the truth. </p><p>She didn’t want to bring up their mother, though. </p><p>Bringing up Pamela would remind them both of the scars they had from when their mother would incite both her drunken and sober rage on them both. Something neither of them could be completely protected from, no matter how hard they tried. </p><p>“Well…” Lex began, looking down, unsure of how to phrase it. </p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened, probably picking up on Lex’s thought process, “You and Ethan were taken away…”</p><p>Lex felt the guilt rise in her, hating the fact that Hannah’s assessment had been correct. She swallowed hard before nodding slightly, “Yes.”</p><p>“Blamed,” Hannah went on, her voice suddenly sounding very small, “Couldn’t stay with me.”</p><p>Lex nodded again, “Ethan and I got arrested...for something very bad. We couldn’t do anything about it.”</p><p>“Not your fault,” Hannah whispered, “Momma’s.”</p><p>A chill was sent down Lex’s spine at the word Hannah used to describe their mother. Any time her mother was associated with any maternal term of endearment, she found herself feeling sick. Their mother was undeserving of the title. She was a bitch who only kept the two of them around so she could get pity points from other people. While it might have been different before Hannah was born, back when their mother had actually attempted to be a positive influence in Lex’s life, it became evident after Hannah had been born that Pamela Foster had no intention of being a good mother. So, she might have been Lex’s reason for existing, but she wasn’t Lex’s reason for living. </p><p>The dream had truly captured the essence of Pamela’s manipulation, though, which made sense...as it was something that made Hannah and Lex’s lives a living hell, but the way it’d captured her gaze, the malevolence and power she liked to hold over her daughters, was chilling. </p><p>“Yeah,” Lex nodded, “Pamela was there too.”</p><p>“Do you ever think about her?” Hannah asked, “Momma, I mean...do you ever wonder where she is?” </p><p>Lex didn’t know what to say to that. </p><p>She didn’t <em> wish </em>that Pamela had met some horrible fate when the world had come to an end. She didn’t want Pamela to be dead at all. No matter how shitty of a person she was, Pamela was still their mother, no matter how far away Lex wished she could take Hannah from her. Still, Lex did wonder if their mother had been one of the first victims in the fall of the world. </p><p>Pamela had never been one to actually listen to the news or the warnings presented by the government. The only reason the <em> Morning Cup O’ News </em>was played on their shitty box-like television was so she could ogle Dan Reynolds and his big fake smile, but Pamela never actually considered what was actually being said as valid or true in any way. She certainly wouldn’t have followed any directions to get herself to safety...and in terms of morality, Pamela could have been corrupted in the easiest way possible. Because of that, it was more than likely that their mother hadn’t survived. </p><p>Instead of offering her opinion on the matter, she looked at her sister, “What do you think?” </p><p>Hannah looked like she thought about it for a moment, before shrugging, “Dunno…”</p><p>They both sat there in silence for a minute, both of them considering the weight behind the statement. Lex didn’t want to think about their mother, but for some reason, she felt like a really shitty person when she didn’t pay her mother any thought in her day-to-day life. </p><p>Mercifully, the sound of their front door opening snapped her free of the thoughts of her mother. </p><p>She looked over her shoulder and saw Ethan entering, carrying a few bags of groceries with him as he did. She smiled slightly as her eyes fell on the ease he seemed to have as he entered their apartment. For whatever reason, she felt as though moments like this proved that the Nightmares weren’t real. That every Time she dreamt of something unpleasant, the presence of the peace of reality made it all go away. That was what she loved about Ethan, how he seemed to make life seem less shitty. He and Hannah both were her favorite people in her life, and she wouldn’t have found the family that they had now had it not been for them. It was strange to see how they’d gone from being a small unit of three to being surrounded by a group of adults who loved them and cared for them...and even discovered that they had one relative that didn’t suck.</p><p>Hannah quickly hopped up from her chair to help Ethan with the groceries, pulling one of the bags from his grasp. </p><p>“Hey, Banana,” Ethan greeted warmly, ruffling the girls’ hair, which he had yet to braid before heading off to help Tom out in the mechanics bay, “You wanna help me with these?”</p><p>Hannah nodded eagerly with a bright smile, carrying one of the bags- the size of the small girl’s torso- over to the counter, setting it down, and beginning to sort out the items. </p><p>Ethan placed the second bag on the counter before walking over to Lex and pressing a kiss to her temple, “How’s school work going?” </p><p>She groaned, “Boring...but it’s better than how everyone besides Tom taught it.”</p><p>“Eyyy,” Ethan threw her some finger guns, “Take that, Hatchetfield High, we might actually get degrees or some professional shit like that.”</p><p>Lex laughed, standing up and joining Hannah in sorting the groceries, Ethan joining them. It was almost disgusting, how domestic it all looked, the three of them, standing at the kitchen counter as they sorted their designated groceries that Ethan picked up every week. This was almost exactly how she pictured their lives in California. Only, she expected more sunshine, more people, more fresh air, and the ocean. God, if she never got to see the ocean in her lifetime…</p><p>“Babe, you okay?” Ethan whispered, placing his hand on hers after he placed a few apples in their small fruit basket.</p><p>Before she could find the words to formulate an answer, Hannah spoke up. </p><p>“She had a bad dream,” Hannah whispered, a suddenly haunted look in her eyes, “Taken away. Nightmare. “</p><p>Lex bit down on her lip and avoided Ethan’s gaze as he looked at her. </p><p>“Oh…” he whispered, “How bad?” </p><p>“It was nothing-” Lex began before Hannah cut her off. </p><p>“Taken away,” Hannah whispered, “Couldn’t read it...couldn’t see it…”</p><p>“And you shouldn’t have anyway,” Lex assured her sister, “There’s nothing for you there, okay? Just bad dreams that didn’t make sense.” </p><p>“Made sense…” Hannah whispered mournfully, her eyes widening, “Can’t tell how...can’t see it...can’t hear you…”</p><p>Lex and Ethan glanced at one another, concern filling their gazes as Hannah suddenly burst into tears.</p><p>“Oh, Hannah…” Lex whispered, kneeling down in front of her sister and wrapping her arms around her. The little girl burrowed her face into Lex’s neck, her small sobs shattering Lex’s heart as she murmured unintelligible words under her breath.</p><p>“Couldn’t hear you…” Hannah whimpered, “Don’t leave me...don’t leave…”</p><p>“What? Banana….” Ethan whispered, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around them, “We ain’t going nowhere, okay?” </p><p>Hannah shook her head, “Can’t control it...can’t hear it…”</p><p>Lex looked up, cupping her sister’s face in her hands, “That’s not your responsibility, Hannah...okay? It was just a bad dream, you know that, don’t you?” </p><p>“Not just…” Hannah whispered, tears pouring from her dark eyes, “Something else...something’s not right…” </p><p> Hannah burrowed into Lex’s side once more, quietly crying as she continued to repeat the broken fragments of sentences. </p><p>Lex looked at Ethan, tears filling her own eyes.</p><p>It was just a bad dream...right?</p><p>There was nothing else to it…</p><p>“Hannah,” she whispered, hugging her sister gently, “You don’t need to look at me...but I need to know you can hear me...okay?” </p><p>Hannah nodded slightly, “Kay’...”</p><p>Lex inhaled and exhaled sharply before looking at Ethan for support, hoping she was going to find the right words. </p><p>“Do you trust us, Hannah?” she whispered. </p><p>Her little sister looked up slightly, her big brown eyes filled with sadness. She sniffed and nodded slightly, “Uh-huh…”</p><p>Lex smiled softly, “Good...then you know we’d never leave you...right?” </p><p>Hannah nodded before more tears filled her eyes and a choked sob escaped her, “What if you’re taken away…?”</p><p>Ethan’s eyes widened and he gently placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder, “We won’t let that happen…”</p><p>“But what if it does!?” Hannah exclaimed, more tears pouring from her eyes, “Can’t see it, can’t hear it...useless…”</p><p>“Hey…” Lex whispered gently, “You’re never useless. We don’t talk like that about ourselves, okay?” </p><p>As she stared at her sister, she could hear her mother’s furious voice echoing in her ears, making it seem like her body was still bruised from every unpleasant encounter with the woman.</p><p>
  <em> “God, Alex, I don’t know why I bother keeping you and your useless sister around!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If you can’t contribute a fuckin’ thing to this family, don’t bother callin’ this your home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I should have just left you on the street, Aubrey.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “What are you good for?”  </em>
</p><p>Lex grit her teeth and swallowed back the painful memories. This wasn’t about Pamela. This was about Hannah and making sure she felt safe. </p><p>Hannah sighed slightly, wiping at the tears that covered her face, “Sorry…”</p><p>“Hey,” Ethan said softly, “You have nothing to be sorry about, Hannah...okay?” </p><p>“Scared…” Hannah whispered, “Don’t know...but I should.”</p><p>“Again, Hannah,” Lex whispered gently, brushing some of Hannah’s hair out of her face, “That’s not your job. Your job is to be Hannah Foster...okay? If anyone expects anything else from you-”</p><p>“Then fuck them!” Ethan interjected. </p><p>“Yeah!” Lex nodded, smiling slightly at Ethan’s enthusiasm.</p><p>Hannah giggled through the tears. </p><p>“Hey…” Lex whispered, “We aren’t gonna leave you. It was just a bad dream, Hannah...dreams aren’t real...they’re all in your mind.”</p><p>“Your mind,” Hannah whispered, “<em> It’s all in your mind...a victimless crime </em>.”</p><p>A chill ran up Lex’s spine at the words. She glanced at Ethan, who looked just as dumbfounded. Something about the way Hannah spoke them seemed...unearthly...as if it wasn’t entirely Hannah who was speaking. </p><p>“What…” she began, “What do you mean?” </p><p>Hannah’s tears suddenly stopped. She stared off into the distance, her eyes filled with an unreadable emotion, “Watched. Seeing. It’s not right...waiting…”</p><p> Ethan leaned in, looking very confused, “Who’s waiting for what, Banana?”</p><p>Suddenly, Hannah was snapped out of her daze, looking at the two of them confusedly, “Waiting...don’t know what...but waiting…”</p><p>Hannah wiped at her eyes, “Something not right...with all of us...six...Molly. Watched. Captor. Box. Hopeless...but not heartless. Venom. Watcher chose someone…”</p><p>
  <em> What...what the hell? </em>
</p><p>Ethan looked at her with a puzzled look on his face, concern seeping into his gaze as he turned his attention back down to Hannah, who was shaking as her voice normalized.</p><p>Hannah looked down, “Can’t make sense…”</p><p>They sank into silence as Hannah muttered silent words under her breath. </p><p>After a while, Ethan spoke up. </p><p>“We’ll be okay, you know that, right?”</p><p>Hannah glanced up at him, “How do you know?” </p><p>Ethan offered a small smile, “Because we’ve got each other...and I made a promise.” </p><p>Hannah quirked an eyebrow. From behind her,  Lex gave him another look of confusion. Where was he going with this? She really hoped he wasn’t about to make a promise he didn’t know he could keep.</p><p>Still, Ethan, cracking that sweet, dopey grin that he always had, since they were small kids, flashed her a reassuring look that suddenly made her feel like everything that had gone wrong in their lives was going perfectly, completely <em> right </em>. </p><p>“How else am I gonna get you to California?” </p><p>---</p><p>”Miss Lucy?”</p><p>Lucy looked up from the collection of papers she’d been grading when she saw Tim standing in front of her. He was fiddling aimlessly with the sleeves of his shirt, his red-brown hair disheveled, as per usual. Though he looked as though he’d rolled out of bed five minutes before coming to class, a look which would have <em> appalled </em>her mother,  </p><p>“Oh get rid of that ‘Miss’ rubbish, Tim,” she smiled softly, “I’ve told all of you that you can just call me Lucy.”</p><p>Tim frowned, crinkling up his nose, “But my dad said it’s a respect thing.”</p><p>“And I appreciate the sentiment,” Lucy smiled, “But I feel like my old nanny Miss Quigley when you call me ‘miss’, and the last thing I want is to be like her.”</p><p>“Oh,” Tim frowned, “Was she a mean nanny?” </p><p>Lucy shrugged, “Not mean so much as very cross...and had no interest in fun.”</p><p>Tim nodded in understanding, “Well...Lucy, I was just gonna see if there’s anything I can do to help you...before my dad comes to pick me up?”</p><p>Lucy’s heart melted at the earnest look on the little boy’s face. Since she’d stepped into the position of a teacher- or caretaker, since she wasn’t licensed- Tim had been so insistent on helping her out. He’d truly stepped into the position of a proper leader. </p><p>“Well…” Lucy began, glancing around the mostly deserted classroom, “I can’t think of anything right now that you could do...but I really appreciate your willingness to help!”</p><p>Tom’s face fell slightly, “Oh…” </p><p>In his dark brown eyes, Lucy could see a spark of sadness.</p><p>“Tim,” she asked quietly, trying not to catch the attention of the other two students who remained, “Is something wrong?” </p><p>“No!” Tim said too quickly, “Nothing...nothing’s wrong! I just want to...to...”</p><p>Lucy offered the boy a small comforting smile, “It’s okay if something is...you know that, don’t you?” </p><p>Tim was silent for a moment, stubbornly looking at the pattern of the wood on their floor before whispering under his breath, “I’m fine…”</p><p>Lucy’s heart broke slightly as she recognized the pattern of behavior from when they’d been in the ruins of the old man’s basement. Though he was healthier, happier, and back with his father, she could still see that little boy who was so desperate to put on a brave face for his aunt. A little boy who hid all of his pain and struggle behind his unfathomable enthusiasm. In some ways, Lucy could see  </p><p>“Okay,” Lucy nodded, “But is anything else wrong?”</p><p>She could see the boy was wrestling with himself. Though the boy would stubbornly deny it to any who asked, that much was evident. Something was bothering him. Whether it related to him directly or indirectly, was for him to tell her, should he feel comfortable.</p><p>“Tim,” she said softly, smiling at the boy comfortingly, “You know that if there was anything you wanted to talk about, I’m a safe place. You don’t need to be pressured to...only if you want to talk, just know that I’m here.”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened, “Really?” </p><p>She nodded, “That’s what I’m here for.”</p><p> Tim looked down, his eyes almost calculating. </p><p> “I’m just…” he began, lowering his voice so that the few other classmates in the room wouldn’t hear him, “I’m just worried for my Dad…”</p><p>“Your Dad?” Lucy raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong with your Dad?</p><p>Tim looked down as if he was slightly guilty to be divulging this sort of information to her, “He’s been having bad dreams...I can hear him yelling from the other room…”</p><p>Lucy sighed softly at the sight of the fear in the boy’s eyes. As a child, she too had had frequent nightmares. Oftentimes she found herself falling from that tree endlessly as a little girl when she’d survived that first trip to Hatchetfield. Her father and mother had done their best to help her sleep, and oftentimes she found herself spending the night with them, but the nightmares had gone away in their own time after her father had explained to her that he too had suffered from nightmares in his youth. At the time, it had been so hard for her to understand that her father, a man who reminded her of a steadfast and strong tree, fell victim to the same things that had made adolescence difficult for her. But in some ways, his understanding of her case had allowed her to move past it.  Of course, now that both of her parents were dead she often spent time making herself a cup of cocoa or tea to help ward off the occasional nightmare, but she recognized some of herself in the eyes of the little boy as he stared at the ground.</p><p>“Does he talk to you about them?” she asked, leaning down, trying to keep the conversation as subtle as she could. </p><p>Tim shook his head, “I tried to bring them up yesterday, but he just…”</p><p>“Blew it off?” she suggested. </p><p>He nodded, “I think they might be about Mom.”</p><p>“Your mother?” Lucy asked, to which the small boy nodded. </p><p>Lucy knew that Tim’s mother had passed away in an automobile accident over a year before. While she’d known better than to pry into the matters of his personal family or ask Tim’s father, she knew that it was a matter of sensitivity to the boy, and therefore made his relationship with his aunt make sense in the regard that he’d latched on to any form of female leadership in his life. </p><p>“I could hear him say her name yesterday,” Tim whispered, “Of course, Becky makes the nightmares better, but over the past few days…”</p><p>“They’ve been getting more frequent?” she nodded in understanding. </p><p>Tim furrowed his brow before looking up at her in confusion, “Does that mean it’s happening a lot?” </p><p>She smiled softly and nodded, “Yes.”</p><p>“Then yeah,” Tim nodded, his expression growing serious once again, “I know he’s been working hard...since he took on that other department, but I don’t want him to be overworking himself…”</p><p>Lucy nodded, “Have you tried to talk to him about this?” </p><p>Tim shook his head, “Other than mentioning the nightmares to him, no...we don’t get the chance to talk much...and I don’t want to give him more to think about.”</p><p>Again, Lucy’s heart went out to the boy. In some ways, she was once again spirited back to when she was a small child. To when her father would spend several weeks away from home while he was working after her mother passed away, leaving her at home with Miss Quigley and a few other staff members. At the time, she’d been told not to be cross with her father and to understand that his mind was on several different things, to the point at which she’d actually been told that her father <em> just </em> couldn’t focus on her at the moment. She’d taken it with a stiff upper lip, planning to be the least bit of a burden for her father, hoping to make his life easier, but as she’d gotten older, she’d realized how stupid the philosophy was. Maybe her father didn’t want her to be away from him, maybe he <em> needed </em>her to be with him. Unfortunately, she’d only come to that realization only a year before he’d died. It was painful, she knew, reflecting on those few years when they’d just been a small family of three, all of them spending happy days together in the sun. How many years had she wasted staying away from her father because someone had told her he didn’t have time for his own daughter? </p><p>She refused to allow Tim to be the same way. After all, in what little time she’d spent interacting with the boy and his family, she knew that his father loved him very much. No circumstance or pain could ever take that away from him. Tom was a loving father from what he had seen, and Tim often talked about his father as if the man was the most incredible man to ever walk the earth. In addition, Tom, who’d been attacked by the man with the greasy mustache had looked like he’d been worrying about nothing else but Tim since he’d woken up in the ward with the others. All of that worry had seemed to melt away the moment that Tim and Becky had been allowed back in. </p><p>In most other cases, when parents were unkind and cruel, especially in the case of the little girl, Hannah Foster, and her older sister, Lucy would have done as much as she could to get those children away from their abuser, but in Tim’s case...she knew that Tom was truly a good father. Though he might have been gruff and a little stingy, especially where Emma’s particular first assessment of him might have been concerned, she knew that Tom truly loved his son. No matter what would be thrown in his face, nothing would stop him from protecting his son. </p><p>At the very base of it all, Tim wasn’t her. And Tom wasn’t her father. </p><p>“Tim,” she whispered, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, “You know how much your father loves you?” </p><p>Tim looked up suddenly, nodding, “Yes…”</p><p>“And you know that you can always talk to him?” </p><p>He nodded again, “Yes...yeah, of course.”</p><p>She smiled softly, “Then you know that there’s nothing you could do that would make you a burden to him, right?”</p><p>“But…” Tim began, “What if…”</p><p>Lucy shook her head, “No ‘what if’s’, okay? Sure, life is kind of bonkers right now...and everything seems like it’s descending into madness...but Tim, your father loves you more than anything else in the world, and there’s nothing you could ever do that would make him prioritize anything over you, okay?”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened, “You really think so?” </p><p>Lucy nodded, her smile growing, “I know so.” </p><p>Before Tim could open his mouth to respond, a small beeping of the timer, signifying that class time was over, went off...not that many students remained. </p><p>She smiled at Tim before walking around the class to gather some of the papers that her students had left behind on their desks, “Think about it…”</p><p>Tim smiled slightly, nodding to himself as a form of contemplation settled over his lovely dark eyes. He’d once commented on how he’d gotten them from his mother, and how Tom often said he had similar expressions to her. It was funny, Lucy had never met the woman, but in the ways Tim differed greatly from his father, and even the appearances of Emma, she could picture the woman in her mind. </p><p>It was strange, she knew   </p><p> </p><p><em> “Lucy Stockworth, what on Earth are you doing?” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Her heart suddenly picked up the pace at the sound of the voice. She whirled around, and gasped, dropping her papers. </p><p>Before her stood the figure of a man, perhaps only two or three years older than she, with neat, black hair that was slicked back and green eyes that held a sense of superiority that she’d often found infuriating. He was dressed neatly, in a grey suit with a green cravat, a pair of spectacles settled gently on his nose, giving him the air of intellect and self-esteem which seemed to be more persistent in his veins than his actual blood. In his arms he held an old-fashioned hunting rifle, making his identity unmistakable. </p><p>“Jonathan?” she breathed, suddenly feeling weak and terrified. </p><p>She’d agreed to marry him once upon a time to get her family out of bankruptcy after her father had died. He’d agreed to marry her for the title of Duke of Stockworth. Though she wasn’t entirely keen on calling herself Lucy Brisby, she did know that marrying him was the best choice. The smart choice. Besides, he did have a lovely, albeit slightly demanding, mother. </p><p>But he’d been lost when the attack on Hatchetfield began. </p><p>His name was one of many of the people who’d been present in Hatchetfield when the world had ended. </p><p>She must have been seeing ghosts.</p><p>Of course, this theory was only supported by the fact that his image was stained with the unmistakable garnet glow of flowing blood from two very distinct bullet wounds. One located at the center of his forehead, the other over where his sternum should have been. Two expert shots. The brightness of the red blood took her breath away and made the pallor of Jonathan’s skin all the more present. The longer she looked at him, the longer it became more evident that the man she was staring at was dead. </p><p><em> “Why did you believe him, Lucy? </em>” </p><p>His voice was in a breathy whisper, his crisp accent chilling her to the bone as it became lulling, almost as if he were trying to soothe her into sleep. She couldn’t do anything but stare in horror at the man she’d once agreed to marry. While she hadn’t loved him in the ways prospective married couples should have she couldn’t help but feel her heart break at the sight of his bleeding, undeniably dead body. </p><p> </p><p>“M-Miss Stockworth?” </p><p> </p><p>At the sound of someone else’s voice, she was snapped free from her staring at Jonathan, looking to the door where a very concerned-looking Tom Houston stood. </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>She glanced back to where Jonathan had been standing, her heart pounding in her chest to find...a blank wall.</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>“Um…” she began. “Yes...Yes, just...er...I was just lost in thought, I suppose.”</p><p>Tom relaxed slightly, inhaling and exhaling before smiling warmly at them, “Well...I just wanted to let you know that I’m here to take Tim home.” </p><p>“Hmm...Oh!” she forced a small smile on her face, covering the shakiness in her voice, her heart pounding like thunder in her ears, “Yes, yes, of course...I’ll see Tim tomorrow then?” </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am!” Tim grinned, “And I’ll work more on those math problems you gave me earlier!” </p><p>She smiled slightly again, “Thank you, Tim…”</p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow, “You’re sure you’re okay?” </p><p>She nodded quickly- perhaps a little <em> too </em> eagerly-, “Yes, yes, I’m fine...it’s just been a long day, you see?”</p><p>Tom sighed and nodded, “Yes, there seems to be a whole lot of days like that, huh?” </p><p>She nodded, wringing her hands slightly as she did. </p><p>He nodded, “Well, we’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Stockworth, thank you very much.” </p><p>“Dad!” Tim protested suddenly, “She wants us to call her Lucy!” </p><p>Tom looked taken aback for a moment, casting a glance at Lucy for confirmation, to which she granted a small nod. </p><p>“Well, then...Miss- Lucy,” Tom smiled respectfully, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Bye, Lucy!” Tim waved as Tom led him out of the classroom. </p><p>Lucy managed to hold the small smile as she waved, watching the father and son duo leave before whirling back around to look at the wall where the bleeding form of Jonathan Brisby had been standing mere moments before, once again finding the blank wall.</p><p>She chuckled lowly under her breath, “Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy...your head’s just playing tricks on you.”</p><p>Though she tried to assure herself of this, she knew that there had to be something more to it...didn’t there. After all, it had looked so real. </p><p><em> Stop it, Lucy, </em> she scolded herself, <em> Don’t indulge these stupid thoughts. It’s all in your mind.  </em></p><p>She stooped to pick up the papers she’d dropped, stacking them neatly in her hands, unable to prevent herself from feeling like she was standing on shaky ground.</p><p><em> It’s all in your mind, Lucy, </em> she reminded herself, <em> All in your mind. </em></p><p>She sighed and straightened her shirt, placing the papers on her desk for her review. </p><p>These were strange times they were living in, that much was true. Whatever it was that would happen, she wouldn’t allow herself to succumb to the ghosts which didn’t exist.</p><p>---</p><p>”You’re nervous, I can tell,” Emma murmured to Paul as they sat, waiting for Phillipa.</p><p>“Hmm?” he snapped out of his reverie, looking at her with a tired glance, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You can’t fool me, Matthews,” she grinned teasingly, “You have a tell.” </p><p>“Oh do I?” he raised an eyebrow, “How so?” </p><p>They were sitting in Phillipa’s private offices, alone and amongst unfamiliar machinery, which was almost intimidating in the way their sterile white components stretched like tree branches across the room. Emma was sitting somewhat uncomfortably in a cold patient’s chair, while Paul sat at her side, holding her hand as he continued to stare off into the distance. Today was the day they’d be conducting the thirteen-week sonogram as a means to document the baby’s physical development as well as hear the results of the chorionic villus sampling that they’d had done the week before to ensure that the baby wasn’t at any risk for chromosomal anomalies. Nurse Potter had already come in to gather a blood sample from Emma, which would go towards identifying any risk factors for the baby that they might have missed, as well as taken her blood pressure to ensure that Emma wasn’t at risk for Preeclampsia.</p><p>It was strange to her, the fact that the past three months had gone by so quickly. She’d half-expected the first trimester to drag on, never seeming to end. And while it had felt that way when she found herself at obscene hours of the morning, hurling her guts up while trying and failing to not wake up Paul, in retrospect, the first trimester seemed to pass by quickly, and the swath of test results they kept getting back almost every other week. She’d done her best to keep track of the symptoms Phillipa had pointed out to her, even learning how to use the sphygmomanometer</p><p>“Well, usually,” Emma began, “You repeat the word ‘okay’ a lot, and I take the hint...but today you’re just tapping your wrists together. You don’t think I’d notice...but I did.” </p><p>He chuckled lightly, “I gotta be more careful at this rate you’ll have me all figured out, Perkins.”</p><p>“You know, there’s no need to be nervous,” she smiled, peering over at him, “It’s <em> our </em>kid.”</p><p>
  <em> Theirs.  </em>
</p><p>God, three months into being pregnant and she was still giddy every time she was reminded of the fact that the baby was her and Paul’s. She was going to become a parent with Paul. Sure, they’d both need to figure it out, but they were good people, and they instantly loved the little blob she was carrying the second Phillipa had told them they were expecting. </p><p>Paul nodded with a smile, “I’m just...excited...hoping for the best, you know?” </p><p>She nodded and reached for his hand, taking it in her own and squeezing it, “Hey, the last couple of tests didn’t reveal anything bad...or any heightened risk,” she whispered, knowing that his fear remained with both her and the baby’s health. Thankfully, none of the tests they’d been recommended to have conducted had revealed that their baby had any chromosomal abnormalities (although, the CVS results would prove or disprove that conclusion), or suggested that the baby was at risk for a congenital heart defect, but they were living in strange times, and in times as terrifying as these, the bitter truth remained that anything was possible, “And if anything is wrong...then we’ll figure it out. We always do.” </p><p>He sighed and nodded, rubbing at his eyes, making her heart ache slightly. </p><p>He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, she knew. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, thrashing like he’d been stabbed. She felt guilty in the regard that she’d been extremely tired and had only been able to murmur a few words to him about whether or not he was okay, but it was clear that whatever had happened the night before had clearly impacted him greatly. </p><p>“Hey,” she whispered softly, “You alright?” </p><p>He hummed under his breath before looking at her with a soft smile, “What do you mean?” </p><p>“You look tired,” she deadpanned, “I know you had a rough night last night.” </p><p>“Oh…” he nodded softly, looking down as if he was slightly saddened by the memory, “It was just a bad dream. It was nothing, just messed with me a little...that’s all.”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow, “You’re sure?” </p><p>He nodded, smiling at her again, “Positive.” </p><p>She didn’t believe him, but she knew that it would likely only get worse if she tried to pick away at it any further. Instead, she just squeezed his hand tighter, silently letting him know that she was here for him to talk to for when he was ready. Then again...he might not ever bring it up again...and this was not something she’d let him just simmer under the skin until he couldn’t handle it anymore.</p><p>“Paul,” she whispered, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”</p><p>He sighed, “I know...and I’m fine Emma, really, I am…” he bit down on his lip and began to fiddle with his hands, “I think just the stress might be getting to be a lot...screwing up my sleep, you know?”</p><p>She nodded slightly, “You sure that’s all it is?” </p><p>He chuckled lightly, “There always is more, isn’t there?” </p><p>She squeezed his hand comfortingly. Since he’d been attacked by Ted, she’d known that things had been difficult for him. He’d always been worrying about keeping them all safe, making sure that they were out of danger, and controlling things that she knew were far out of his control. He’d never ceased in his love and gentleness that he’d showed her and the rest of the world, but she could see how things like this had been beating him up. </p><p>“Paul,” she whispered softly, “I just want to make sure you’re not overworking yourself...you know I’m here for you…”</p><p>He nodded, looking down, “I know.”</p><p>She squeezed his hand, swinging her feet off of the elongated chair so she could face him. She held both of his hands in her own. </p><p>“Paul, I love you,” she whispered, “And I hope you know that you don’t have to worry about everything...you’re not alone in this.”</p><p>He said nothing, looking down. </p><p>“Hey,” she squeezed his hands, “You don’t have to tell me what the dream was about...okay? I just want to make sure that <em> you’re </em>okay.”</p><p>He looked up at her, nodding softly, his eyes wide, “I love you.”</p><p>She smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I love you too…fucking gross, right?”</p><p>He laughed lightly, rubbing at his eyes, “Don’t worry, Em. I won’t tell anyone you’ve gone soft.”</p><p>She lay back in the long chair, “I hope not.”</p><p>They lapsed into silence again, their hands still clasped together, Emma running her thumb gently over his knuckles. In some ways the peaceful silence was made all the more comforting as she glanced over at him, sitting there quietly, his blue eyes looking deep in thought.</p><p>Suddenly, the door opened and Phillipa walked in, smiling sweetly over her glasses.</p><p>“Hello, how are you both doing?” she smiled, methodically using hand sanitizer as she entered the room. </p><p>“Good, thanks Phillipa,” Paul smiled.</p><p>“Well then,” Phillipa smiled, “I understand that Rachel got all of the proper paperwork filled out and collected the correct samples?”</p><p>“Yes,” Emma nodded, “She also said we’d be hearing about the Chorionic Villus Sampling... thing today?”</p><p>Phillipa nodded, “Of course, I’ll get that out of the way right now in telling you that that itself was completely clean. You’ll be relieved to know that there were no chromosomal abnormalities that I observed, no risk of Tay-Sachs, fragile X, all of the above.”</p><p>Emma squeezed Paul’s hand at the news and allowed the small worry that she’d had surrounding the results of that particular test to shrink away. With as uncomfortable as that test had been and how Phillipa had insisted it was necessary, she’d found herself holding her breath in regards to the potential results. She smiled softly, “Well...that’s a relief.”</p><p>Phillipa nodded, “Thankfully that allows for worries about the different chromosomal anomalies to be taken out of the equation, and shifts our focus to the physical development of the baby itself.”</p><p>Paul nodded, “At three months, what exactly are you looking for?” </p><p>Phillipa moved to sit down in the chair beside the monitor, “At this point, the baby should have a functioning urinary tract system, as well as formed organs, in addition, the head should be much more pronounced and visible.” </p><p>Paul nodded, cracking a small goofy grin which made Emma smile, “So, less of a blob?” </p><p>“Yes,” Phillipa laughed slightly, “You should definitely be seeing a larger, more pronounced head...and the smaller bones should begin to fuse in the limbs, while the larger bones develop more tissue...and you still don’t want me to tell you the baby’s gender?” </p><p>Emma glanced at Paul for a moment, silently discussing it before shaking her head, “We want to be surprised.” </p><p>“Of course,” Phillipa grinned excitedly, before continuing, “And if there’s one thing I always found fun about thirteen weeks, it’s the fact that the baby should be developing some fingertips, so in future sonograms, we should see it sucking on it’s fingers or thumb. If we were to compare the baby right now to an object, in size, it would be about the size of a nectarine, or perhaps a lemon.”</p><p>Emma chuckled lightly at the idea. The small thing that was currently living and growing inside of her was slowly becoming less of a small bundle of cells and more of a person. A person she and Paul had made, no less. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. All she hoped was that she could give this baby the best life she could. That maybe she’d do better than her parents had with her. </p><p>Phillipa smiled, turning on the equipment and donning a pair of gloves  “Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we?” </p><p>Emma rolled up her shirt, revealing the barely-noticeable baby bump that she’d developed over the past few weeks.  She hissed through her teeth as Phillipa placed some of the gel on her exposed stomach, before placing the probe on her stomach, moving it around a little bit.</p><p>Paul squeezed her hand and smiled excitedly, moving in closer as they both turned their attention to the monitor, which showed a great deal of grey and black smears, before settling to the familiar image that was the inside of her body. </p><p>She straightened slightly, squeezing Paul’s hand as the image focused on a large object which somewhat resembled an alien, with a large head and a smaller, more curled in form of the body attached to it.</p><p>A grin crossed her face as Phillipa leaned forward.</p><p>“There it is…” Phillipa smiled, “Looks like it’s right on track with growth from what I can see… proportion-wise it looks normal.”</p><p>As Phillipa talked, Emma could only lean forward and stare at the small thing. This tiny human that was growing inside of her was <em> her </em> baby. Better yet, it was <em> their </em>baby. </p><p>Holy shit. </p><p>She and Paul had made that baby. </p><p>She glanced at Paul, who looked like he couldn’t stop smiling. Tears were brimming in his eyes as he looked at her. </p><p>“Holy crap…” he murmured in disbelief.</p><p>“It should be a few more weeks before you experience any quickening,” Phillipa explained, “Which means you’ll be feeling that first kick around fifteen to sixteen weeks.”</p><p>She nodded, looking at Paul again as he planted a kiss on her knuckles, looking like he might explode from the joy of seeing their child.</p><p>The small figure’s face could be seen slightly, a tiny profile made out of bumps and ridges. The longer she looked at it, the longer she took in the details of her child’s face, the more she felt as though her heart would melt. </p><p>“I figured out how to print these pictures out,” Phillipa remarked, “I couldn’t get them last time, but if you want-”</p><p>“Yes please!”</p><p>“Fuck yeah!”</p><p>Paul and Emma looked at one another, laughing at the realization that they’d spoken at the same time. As she glanced at him, she found that tears were brimming in his eyes as he held her hand softly. She fought against the tears that were brimming in her own. Phillipa smiled as she placed more markers on the screen for them to identify the growth of their baby and the proportions.</p><p>Her heart sang as she thought longer about him and their child. </p><p>The knowledge that they were bringing a baby into this unforgiving, horrifying world was terrifying to her. But with Paul, she felt like she would truly be giving the baby its best chance. There was not a doubt in her mind that he would be a fantastic father. Judging from the way he was staring in amazement at the image on the screen, so much love and enchantment in his eyes, she knew that he loved this baby with his whole being. God, she loved this baby so much. If he loved this baby with even a fraction of how much she did, which she knew he far surpassed just from looking at him, their child would never live a life where they didn’t know how much their parents loved them.</p><p>He kissed her hand again, his eyes never leaving the screen.</p><p>This hadn’t been something they’d planned for. This hadn’t been something she’d <em> wanted </em>before this. Hell, she hadn’t even imagined herself having a long-term relationship and wanting to stay with it for so long. </p><p>And then she found Paul. </p><p>Now, here they were, looking at the screen which captured the image of their child. </p><p>“From the looks of it,” Phillipa was saying, “Everything structurally seems to be in order, and the lab results should get to me tomorrow, so I’ll send those to you both as soon as possible.”</p><p>Paul nodded with a small smile, not saying anything else. He scooted closer to Emma, not taking his eyes off of the screen. </p><p>She scooted to the edge of the bed so that she was close to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watched the screen like a pair of kids entranced by a cartoon. </p><p>He looked over at her, a dorky, loving expression in his gaze that she could make out from the corner of her eye. She fought back against the blush that threatened to make her even weaker for this man.</p><p>He pressed a soft kiss to her temple.</p><p>”I love you, Em.” he whispered, wrapping an arm around her as she leaned closer to him.</p><p>She tore her eyes away from the screen, not even caring that Phillipa was right there. God, she loved this man so much. The fact that they'd come so far in life together, and had made something good come out of endless darkness was beyond her. </p><p>She met those gorgeous eyes again, feeling the same butterflies in her body that she felt when she first realized she loved him.</p><p>”I love you too.”</p><p>Smiling softly at one another, they turned their gazes back to the monitor, lovingly watching the face of their future. </p><p>The face of what they knew would be their new beginning.</p><p>---</p><p>“Following these lines, Lynn lays down beside Mariah, stake still in her heart,” Alice read, sounding professional and serious as she read Bill the final part of her recent play, “As she dies, she holds Mariah’s hand, fingers forever intertwined as death claims them both.” </p><p>Bill wiped the tears that were dripping from his eyes as he listened to the sound of her voice. Since he’d gone blind, Alice’s voice was one of the best things to hold on to.</p><p>“Blackout,” Alice concluded, “Grand closes.”</p><p>Bill sniffed, “That was so...so beautiful, sweetheart.”</p><p>If he could see her, he would have liked to imagine her face brightening, a smile crossing the face he would have given anything to see one more time, “You really think so?”</p><p>He nodded, his hands fiddling with his cane, “No wonder you got the scholarship.”</p><p>“I mean,” she sounded like she was giddily murmuring about her play, “The sad ending was for the scholarship...and it still needs some work, but I’d like it to be more comedic.” </p><p>He nodded, “Well, what you’ve got is already amazing, sweetie.”</p><p>“I wish you could read it for yourself,” Alice’s voice was soft and melancholy, and it made Bill’s heart sink. </p><p>Since he’d gone blind, he’d done his best to remain as optimistic as he could. After all, there was no way they <em> knew </em>this was permanent, right? He’d have his sight back in no time. He was sure of it. Still, he’d done his best to try and teach himself braille, trying to keep working and contribute, despite his new case. The General’s husband had even procured a proper keyboard for him to use once he felt alright to return to work, allowing him to type and read in braille. Of course, there was a great deal of frustration that came along with learning all of these different letters. He’d often found himself tripping up on particular words, and trying very hard not to lose his temper with the specialist he had to see every week, but he knew that once he got the hang of it, it should have been okay...right?</p><p>He’d see Alice’s face again. Soon enough. </p><p>He just needed to be patient. </p><p>It was late, he knew. Honestly, the fact that he’s stayed up this late was a rarity. He yawned and stretched, “I think that’s nature telling me it’s time for bed, huh?”   </p><p>“Here, let me help you,” he could hear Alice move to stand to help him, but he held his hand out to her.</p><p>“No, it’s fine, you know I know my way around the apartment,” he forced a smile, hiding the slight annoyance and irritability he held at the notion of being helpless. The last thing he’d wanted when he’d been told that this would be the way he lived for a while, was that Alice felt obligated to help out too much. He was a grown man. A grown man who could figure stuff out without the help of his daughter. He didn’t want her to have that weight, “Goodnight, Alice, I love you.”</p><p>He felt her soft hand take his, “Night, Dad…”</p><p>He could feel his daughter press a kiss to his cheek. Since when had she been so tall? God, why did it suddenly seem like only days ago he’d been holding his newborn baby girl in his arms, smiling down at her tiny face, trying to figure out how to best take care of her, and yet, here she was, taking care of him. He knew that was normal when it came to the circle of life, as he himself had taken care of his own father when he was on his deathbed. It was sickening though, to know that Alice might be feeling that way.</p><p>He stood, gripping his cane and slowly moving it from side to side, making sure he didn’t trip over the same damn floor lamp as he always did when he headed to bed. Quickly, he found the door to his bedroom and found his way inside. It didn’t matter whether or not the lights were on or off in his room, which he supposed was a benefit (although he knew he was really stretching for a bright side in that regard). Thankfully, he’d already gotten into his pajamas and was ready for bed, so he wouldn’t have to fumble around the room with his cane like he couldn’t find anything. He leaned the cane against the wall, beside his bedside table and slipped into his bed, relishing the softness of the covers. Today had been a very long day. Between worrying about Alice and mistaking letters on his practice in reading braille, he knew that a good night's sleep was all he needed...before he had to do it all over again. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Bill, are you there?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> He sighed, snapping out of his daze, holding his phone to his ear as his ex-wife captured his attention once more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” he sighed, “So what were you saying?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His ex sighed, murmuring something under her breath about how lack of attention should have been added to her list of reasons for leaving him, “Can you take Alice for that week?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why Lydia, are you shirking the ‘motherly duties’ that got you full custody? Geez, why’d you even bother getting custody if you were gonna hand her off to me all this time?” he sighed, immediately cringing at how childish his tone sounded. He really needed to learn to stop being somewhat antagonistic with his ex. What was done was done and should have been left well enough alone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could hear Lydia sigh heavily and curse under her breath, “Listen, Bill, are you gonna take Alice that week or not?! Of course, I could always ask one of her-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” Bill cut in, “No, of course...Alice loves it here anyway. Of course, I’ll take her that week.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hmm” he could hear Lydia huff under her breath, “Well...we’ll see how long that lasts. She’s grown up quite a bit since last you saw her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She’s a teenager,” Bill said, “Growing up is part of the gig.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, she likes it here in Clivesdale,” Lydia seemed to taunt him from her end, “I take her to all of the best fun spots here and she really has blossomed...hell...she might not even be the same girl you saw last month.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill grit his teeth, “I know my own daughter.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’ll see.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, the phone call ended.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed, slamming his phone down on the desk.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, how did he ever end up marrying a bitch like that?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and buried his face in his own hands. Why was it always a game? And why was it a game he indulged? He knew if there was anything that he and Lydia were equal in Alice’s regard, it was how angry she was. Still, the divorce was better for all of them. In time Alice would understand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Bill, you okay?” Bill glanced up to see his best friend, Paul leaning from his cubicle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine...just troubles with the ex.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s face contorted slightly, having helped Bill through all of the struggles in his divorce. God, what Bill would have done without Paul during that time he would have never known, “What did Lydia want from you this time? You paid child support this month right?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill nodded, “I have Alice in two weeks for a week.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s expression brightened, “That’s good! That’s great news!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill nodded again with a heavy sigh, “I’m just worried I can’t think of anything fun to do with her...you know...real fun.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Real fun?” Paul raised an eyebrow, “Bil, you’re her dad...you don’t need to-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you know of anything on the island?” Bill asked, too distracted by pulling up whatever fun tourist attractions he could think of on the island, “Anything that would be really fun? Something cool parents would take their kids to?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t let Lydia be right. Alice was his daughter as much as she was hers. He’d show Lydia that Alice still loved him. That no matter how far away Lydia would move her, Alice was still his baby girl. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul sighed, “Bill...you don’t need to-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Damn it, Paul!” Bill exclaimed suddenly, “I need to think of something-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was taken aback when he saw the shock on Paul’s face. His friend looked...frightened. A look of fear that only crossed his face when he and Paul would talk about their parents. He knew that Paul’s father had been...unkind to him...in his youth, and because of this Paul didn’t do well when it came to people shouting. Shame and guilt suddenly rose in Bill.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul, I’m sorry…” he sighed, “You know…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s okay,” Paul nodded slightly, “I know how Lydia gets under your skin…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please, Paul,” Bill sighed, looking down, “I just want to…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He trailed off as an ad on his computer caught his attention.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A bright purple ad depicting a bright and colorful amusement park with a cute, one-eyed mascot. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Watcher World,” he mused, he turned to Paul, “Have you ever heard of it?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s eyes widened slightly, “Yeah...it’s just on the other side of the island, isn’t it?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Bill nodded, “How could I not have thought of that?! My parents used to take me there all the time!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He vaguely recalled the bright sea of purple lights and yellows that seemed to paint the old rickety amusement park that was located just on the other side of the Witchwood. He remembered the bright cheerfulness of the people running the booths, how they’d enthralled him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Isn’t it the place with the biggest rollercoaster in the midwest?” Paul asked, looking rather uncertain, “I think someone died on it once…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes!” Bill snapped his fingers, excitement “The Tearjerker! Oh, I used to want to ride it so much as a kid, but I was never tall enough!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Did you miss the part where someone died on it once?” Paul asked, “Bill, there’s no guarantee…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill wasn’t listening as he scrolled through the website. Alice had always loved roller coasters as a kid, hadn’t she? And all of the games and potential stage shows that they had there… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice would love this! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul this is perfect!” he exclaimed, turning back to see his friend was not there, “Paul?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He glanced around the room, finding that the set of cubicles was mysteriously empty. He could no longer hear the sounds of phones ringing, computers buzzing with endless strings of Emails.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where had Paul gone? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul?” he called out, his heart pounding in his chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The silence was...eerie. Despite being a relatively small, Hatchetfield-based company, the ambient noises were usually enough to keep everything going. His heart pounded in his chest as a wave of unmistakable yet irrational fear overtook him at the sudden deafening silence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why was everything so quiet? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why was everything so...empty? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Because you are, Billy-boy.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bill fell to his knees as a voice thundered in his ears, sounding childish and light, almost cartoon-like. He let out a yelp of fear as his eyes searched the empty room for the source of the voice. But he found none.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Oh, you’re perfect! And just when I thought I wasn’t gonna get through to you at all!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Who are you?!” Bill cried out, holding his hands over his ears to block out the horrible reverberation through his skull. He pushed himself upward and stumbled towards the doors. He turned the doorknobs desperately, trying to find a way for the door to be forced open, but was met with a locked door. He cursed under his breath as panicked tears poured down his face. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>Your sight is MINE, Billy boy! And I won’t stop until I’ve seen EVERYTHING!!!</em> </b> <b> <em><br/><br/></em></b> </p><p>
  <em> A bout of horrendous, childish laughter echoed in Bill’s ears, making his skull hurt as he doubled over, clutching his head as the pressure seemed to build and build in his head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Through his blurred vision, he could see something smearing from the ceiling, cascading down the walls in thick, purple drips. It pooled at the floor, surrounding him, filling up quickly to the point at which Bill was up to his knees in the thick, Fuschia slime. He screamed and cried out for help, but was met by deaf ears.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please!” He screamed as the pool of slime reached his chest, “Someone help me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The slime continued to pool, and he found himself floating the faster the room seemed to fill, making him swim as though he were moving through molasses over the tops of cubicles as he desperately tried to free himself from the room. He banged on the ceiling, trying to get one of the tiles to relinquish its strength, but was met by nothing as the slime continued to coat his body. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath as the entire room was coated in purple slime, panic filling his body. His eyes were forced shut by the thickness of the substance, and he could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into it. He could hear his heart in his ears as panic filled his every muscle.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>OPEN YOUR EYES</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His heart skipped a beat as he found himself following the loud, thundering command that echoed in his ears, being met by the sight of an endless bright purple mass.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, like a flash of light, a bright orb of piercing yellow appeared before him. At the center of the orb, there was a pair of two concentric black and purple circles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The longer he looked at it, the longer he realized that the strange circles weren’t circles at all. Rather, with a covering of them in the bright obnoxious purple, he realized he was staring at an eye.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A large, monstrous, yellow, and purple eye.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost instantly, his breath was torn from him as he tried to scream, and his mouth and lungs were filled with the thick, purple substance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was drowning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t breathe.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>YOU’RE MINE NOW!!!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His scream was silenced in the goo as darkness began to consume him...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He sat up in bed with a gasp, gulping down the precious oxygen as he did. </p><p>And when he opened his eyes, he was met by darkness. Infinite darkness chased the images of the yellow ocular monstrosity and the endless purple slime away from his mind. </p><p>And for once, Bill was grateful that he could see nothing. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then...</p><p>Happy Nightmare Time Release Day!!!!</p><p>(also, happy valentines day!!!)</p><p>Lex is a good big sister and Ethan fully intends to keep his promise to her and Hannah.</p><p>Lucy is a good teacher.</p><p>Once again, I present to you the fact that Paulkins are going to be amazing parents. That baby is gonna know so much love it's not even funny...under the assumption nothing bad happens to them.</p><p>Bill is trying his best here...but what does this all mean? Especially that little bit added on to the end of his dream?</p><p>With all of these bad dreams and visions, who knows what's in store for these people?</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos! I would greatly appreciate to hear any feedback or questions you have to offer! Once again, I'm very sorry for this long chapter. I swear I'm trying to cut back on chapter length. </p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Your Life is a Waning Moon (Interlude)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We interrupt this program to bring you the contemplation of the oldest sister.<br/>The spider looks upon the web she's spun.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So...here's a little mini-chapter where we go to everyone's favorite spider bitch!! I was wrestling with whether or not I should actually add this, but...LORE</p><p>ANYWAY<br/>The title for this little bit comes from the Nightmare Time theme (which I really hope you guys enjoy since it just premiered!!!)</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Nightmare Time Spoilers (I will continue to tag this until a week from now, since its premiered-hope that's okay!!!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She could see the vast expanse of the strange island they’d deemed their home stretching out in front of her. </p><p>She could hear the power of the forest. The place she’d claimed as her specific domain. Of course, these woods had been deemed sacred by the Hatchetmen who’d first claimed this land for their own, hoping to make the island a safe place to raise their families. What a pleasant lie that had been. </p><p>Centuries before, when the island was first inhabited by the travelers from Oregon, she’d watched as they’d established buildings, picking out perfectly level plateaus amongst the Witchwoods to establish the bones of the town that would soon become Hatchetfield. They’d believed that this strangely isolated Island was enough for them to develop a world of their own. A home where the generations to come would prosper. Very quickly, however, she’d watched as they learned that the world they were living in was far more dangerous. </p><p>All it had taken was a few unfortunate ventures into the woods for the people to understand that the place they’d claimed as their new home was not something that would keep them safe, rather it was a secret that they had to keep safe. Though it was only three centuries before, she had been curious as she’d watched people explore the woods, never knowing what it was that they would find, surveying the area that they hoped to build into a beautiful city. </p><p>It was here that Webby and her brothers touched their first mind. </p><p>Willabella Muckwab had been a curious little girl. Only twelve years old when she’d come across them. Mischievous in nature, she’d wandered about the forest, listening. Looking. Always waiting for something interesting. It was no surprise that such an attentive little girl was ostracized by society, some people claiming that she’d descended from devil-worshippers. Some people in the town believed young Willabella to be an innocent little girl, left orphaned by a freak fire-related incident. Some pitied her, watching as the little girl tried to find friends, but failed due to the rumors surrounding her family. Webby had seen that little girl and saw an opportunity. </p><p>The little girl was desperate for friends, desperate for something solid to hold on to. </p><p>Webby and her siblings offered her that. </p><p>Quickly, she became the first of many. </p><p>As that little girl grew into an adult, her susceptibility to the Black and White caught the attention of other Hatchetfield inhabitants that weren’t exactly like her but knew that the Black and White was truly a force to be reckoned with.  Some chose to follow the Lords in Black, as Willabella had, others had believed that the Lords in Black was a blasphemer’s dream. Naturally, the people who didn’t follow the Lord’s in Black’s creed had been exposed through the games of her brothers and sister, their abilities condemning them to death by those who feared what they didn’t understand. All the while, Willabella and her few followers worked hard to build up the support for the Lords in Black. </p><p>Then she’d made a mistake. </p><p>Wiggly had gotten impatient and sent a small vessel of himself to Willabella. A small charm of sorts that captured his likeness. Of course, his instructions were for Willabella to attempt to sell them at one of the general stores in the developing town. The result was a massacre brought on by mass hysteria in the store. Eyes turned to Willabella and her followers. </p><p>If the people of Hatchetfield were looking for an excuse to execute Willabella for witchcraft, this was it. </p><p>Willabella was hanged for her crimes, proclaiming her allegiance to the Lords in Black with her dying breath, and very soon, all of her followers, and anyone else in the town who’d shown the slightest sensitivity to the Black and White, were killed. </p><p>God, it had been so infuriating to watch as life continued on. Hatchetfield quickly grew into a small bustling town, industrializing and growing with every passing century. At this point, the Lords in Black had faded from the memory of the people, their power diminished. </p><p>Webby was forced to watch as the seed of Willabella’s own grew into a small family, stretching throughout Hatchetfield history, giving her now three of the most sensitive people to the Black and White that she’d ever seen. Of course, it was a cruelty of fate, which she could only watch and not control, that all three of them had ended up on the other side. </p><p>Of course, she only needed the seer. </p><p>The little one. </p><p>
  <em> Hannah.  </em>
</p><p>The little girl’s first breath had caught her attention. The cries that had announced her birth had demanded the Lords in Black to take notice.</p><p>She was such a small and unassuming thing, but Webby could see so much potential. </p><p>People like Hannah didn’t just <em> happen </em>to be born in a place like Hatchetfield and just catch her attention.</p><p>The girl was powerful. More powerful than anyone Webby had ever seen. </p><p>At first, she’d thought if she played her cards right she would be able to create another Willabella Muckwab out of her descendent. After all, she’d never lost track of the Muckwab lineage. </p><p>When Hannah Foster was born, however, there was a great deal of power that Webby had sensed. </p><p>If Webby knew enough about the girl, and how to groom her into the person she wanted her to be, she could have someone worth a hundred Willabella Muckwabs. </p><p>The girl would have been a very powerful ally.</p><p>The fact that she was now convinced that Webby was a monster was not enough to make her shy away. </p><p>The fact that Lex Foster had been chosen as a pressure point was very intentional. </p><p>Soon enough, Webby would eliminate that threat, and Hannah would be theirs. </p><p>She wasn’t integral to Webby’s plan...but it would have definitely added salt into the wound. </p><p>She wouldn’t find her family in the dark anymore.</p><p>It was bad enough that her family had been split in two across different expanses of the universe, but when Hatchetfield, a place that had been a major fixation for both her and her siblings suddenly became a place where nobody knew their names, Webby was determined to make them remember. </p><p>She and her siblings would never be forgotten. </p><p>Never again. </p><p>And they’d succeeded. </p><p>She smiled to herself as she stared at the island, the rot and ruin upon which she and her siblings had built their thrones. Hatchetfield had become the capital city in an empire that they’d built for themselves. </p><p>On the other side of the Witchwoods, she could see the glow from the purple painted amusement park that Blinky had claimed for his own. She could hear the screams coming from it, which rather than being the screams of enjoyment from the human inhabitants, rather it was the screams that would bring Blink amusement. Since he’d sacrificed so much during the last round of the game they played with the people who were hiding beneath the earth, he’d been a bit more excited. She figured it had something to do with the fact that he’d finally picked a favorite, and coincidentally, he had been one of the chosen...so naturally her little one-eyed brother was in a little bit of a better mood. </p><p>Through the wind, she could hear Apatha sing and Wiggly’s laughter, all of them conducting their own chaos while Tinky and Nibbly played on the other side of the island. </p><p>She knew how anxious her siblings were to continue on with the next stage of the plan, but she knew that being patient was the best thing for them to do. </p><p>After waiting for centuries to retrieve her siblings and be back in the world they’d once loved to walk in, she could afford to wait a little while longer. </p><p>Tinky’s bastard had done his job, and though she could hear his screams from where his soul was trapped in both the box and where his body was stationary, she knew that it would be a while before they’d need him again. </p><p>He was a puzzle to human beings, but when it came to his purpose, it was pretty straightforward. After all, the venom was delivered properly. All that remained was for it to foster and grow. And soon, they’d have what they needed. </p><p>The heart was something that was easy to break, and after choosing the six victims, Webby was sure that there was no way they’d fail now. Already the first waves had begun, the souls would soon be drawn into a trap they’d never be able to escape...but then again, the souls they’d picked were strong enough to last long enough for them to get what they needed...to break what needed to be broken before they were gone for good. And the impact...it was fantastic to her…</p><p>The people they would leave behind would be broken. That was enough for their fight to be won. </p><p>Maybe they wouldn’t even have to kill one of the people that would be left behind. </p><p>After all, with as many times as Paul and Emma had defied the laws of the Black and White, defied the laws of existence...pulling one another back from what death should have made final...it made sense that the loss of one -made permanent- would lead to the loss of the other.</p><p>And their child…?</p><p>The child’s life was inconsequential...if anything it would make their eventual destruction be something all the more devastating. </p><p>Take out Apatha’s favorite, and Webby knew that Emma and the child would follow. </p><p>The fact that they’d already picked several members of people within a self-proclaimed familial unit would allow for the pressure points of the group to fail. This was a personal fight, she knew. This war wasn’t something that was impersonal. Once the favorite of Apatha and the brother-in-law of Emma were to fall, the deaths of Emma and her child would follow harshly, and very soon the family itself would be decimated, and in its crumbling, would open up the doors for the correct and swift means by which they’d all be wiped out...permanently. The loss would compound upon itself, the souls too weak to hold the burden. It was simple, death or banishment. Banishment would be the fate of the six, while death would fall to the others. This would add insult to injury...and prevent those who’d been banished, serving a higher calling, from ever seeing their loved ones ever again. </p><p>It was simple, their family or hers. </p><p>And hers never would die. </p><p>She’d not let them win.</p><p>They’d defied their rule for far too long. Their deaths deserved to be slow and painful, leaving them all shell-shocked. It was a very meticulous process by which she’d planned this, and she would make sure that they would suffer.</p><p>The fragments of what remained of those who were now absent would never help them completely again. Within a few short weeks, she would watch as their pain and suffering made itself known. She'd watch as the foundation on which they built their survival crumbled, swallowing them whole.</p><p>She’d see them destroyed.  </p><p>All that was needed was a little patience and swift, strong moves. </p><p>Then they’d undoubtedly win. </p><p>She had her plan. The next step was clear, and would only take a little while longer to execute. After that, a little more waiting, and then everything would collapse beautifully. </p><p>A perfect stack of dominoes in her perfect plan. </p><p>The gambit was done. </p><p>A work of art.</p><p>The seeds of their plan were sown. </p><p>Just a little longer before they grew beautifully, entwining those who dared to defy them in a forest of death and fear. </p><p>She grinned as she breathed in the scent of death and rot in the air. </p><p>All she needed was to wait. </p><p>Then she’d watch as they did nothing but run.</p><p>If they wanted….if they dared.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...in case you didn't know...Webby’s evil.</p><p>Wonder how her plan will impact them.</p><p>I really hope you all enjoy Nightmare Time!! I'm super excited to go back and watch it so I hope you like it!!!</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like to, and happy valentines day!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!!</p><p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Sorrow Has a Human Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucy gets ready for another normal day<br/>Paul and Emma give Bill the good news<br/>Xander thinks a lot</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song for this chapter's title comes from the song 'Sleeping Sun' by Nightwish</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of mental abuse, manipulation, nosebleeds, attacks, mentions of death, etc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: April 11, 2019</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The soft breeze of Hatchetfield greeted her as she stepped off of the plane, the chill of the Michigan air making her smile. She straightened her neat mauve blazer as she stepped down the stairs, Rupert having already carried her bags down to the car, which he’d prepared for her. The old runway at the small local airport was a familiar sight to her as she took it in for all its worth. Of course, she’d not been there in a while, but every single time she found herself in the town she was overtaken by a childlike sense of giddiness.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello, Hatchetfield,” she whispered, “I said I’d return again, didn’t I?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lord, it had been too long since she’d last been in town. This small town on an island in the middle of a lake had somehow become her happy place over the course of time since she’d begun visiting it as a child, all those years ago. All of those years when she’d merely been a silly schoolgirl with an affinity for exploring places her family probably didn’t want her to visit. The thickness of the silver woods had so entranced her as a little girl, that traveling around the tall trees seemed to beckon to her the further she went in. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then, of course, there had been that one fateful trip. She was probably about nine or ten years old and it had been her second trip to Hatchetfield, hadn’t it? Her mother had never understood what her father had found so appealing in the small town, but Lucy had immediately been so entranced with it. She was enamored with the way the town differed greatly from the world she was so used to. Rather than being met by the pompous aspects of society, she was met by a small town filled with people who loved it. In some ways, there was a certain joy around the town which she adored. The way people enjoyed partaking in everyday activities, whether it was getting coffee from one of the many coffee shops down the street, going to work, celebrating local anomalies, such as that pocket-sized squirrel, and even just doing mundane activities made Lucy smile. The charm of the town was something that had drawn her to it as a child.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, that second trip had given her another reason for visiting the place, hadn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d been exploring the forests again, running far out of the sight of her doting parents. If she thought long and hard about it, she could still hear her mother and father calling for her to return back and keep in their sights, but she’d been too excited by the idea of exploring those lovely woods again that she’d run ahead anyway. Halfway through her own exploration, she’d been peering up into the lovely intricate web-like branches of the trees and had spied a nest, nestled deeply in between two branches. Excitedly, she’d remembered what her father had told her of the Hatchetfield native birds, the nighthawks, and how this time of the year was usually the time when nesting would occur. Naturally, climbing the tree and seeing if she could spy any hatchlings had been her immediate idea. She’d wanted nothing more than to climb up the twisting branches of the lovely trees, their delicate limbs holding her small weight, since she was very small for her age at the time, and look to see any baby birds. Hatchetfield’s Witchwoods had always been able to capture the beauty and gloriousness that nature had to allow, so it seemed like a perfect idea to her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She climbed up the tree quickly, scrambling up the branches and trunk with ease, as climbing trees had been one of her favorite pastimes back in London, and quickly found herself high above the ground, peering through the canopy of branches to see if there were any babies she could look upon. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see the nest, but from the angle she was at, she couldn’t see the opening in the nest. She shifted her weight across the branches, stretching herself across the trees. She was very high up, but she was unafraid, the tree branches would support her enough as it was. Gripping the branches tightly, she shifted her weight, extending herself further so that she might see the nest more clearly. To her amazement, she could hear the small peeping of what must have been baby birds from the nest...if she could just…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy, darling?” her father’s voice echoed from somewhere in the woods, startling her slightly, “Where are you, dear?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>SNAP!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy felt her stomach plummet as the sound of the branch on which she was standing snap slightly beneath her weight. She glanced down to find that it was forming a few small cracks in the wood. Her breathing became ragged, as she suddenly felt herself starting to sink the longer the branch bent. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She felt as though her insides were flying as a scream unlike anything else left her. She knew she was plummeting to the ground, her stomach soaring as she fell to the earth. She braced herself, still crying out as she fell. When suddenly…  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Got you.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook as she suddenly realized she hadn’t hit the ground. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When she’d tentatively opened her eyes, she’d seen the face of something she’d never thought existed. Of course, in her previous visit to Hatchetfield, she’d heard a couple of the legends of what dwelled in those woods, but never had she expected this…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a man...she was pretty sure, with thick black fur and strong arms which held her as she suddenly realized that she’d been caught. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her first instinct would have been to scream as she took in the figure of what she could only presume was Hatchetfield’s infamous Ape-Man...the Wooly Foot...had it not been for the kindness in his eyes as he gently lowered her to the earth. Those eyes were dark, like soil moistened by the early morning dew as they looked at her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You okay?” he whispered, his deep voice making her flinch as she stared dumbstruck at him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She managed a small nod, her jaw hanging slack as she regarded him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Without another word, he was gone, leaving her frozen for her parents to find. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When she’d told her parents what had happened, what she had seen, they thought she’d hit her head in the fall. That the man she’d seen had been a delusion of sorts, but right then and there she’d decided that she’d find him again. After all, she never thanked him for saving her life and it was improper for her to not thank someone for such an important act.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So, it had been her intention to return to Hatchetfield, which she’d done every year since then, spending around two weeks to see if she could find the Wooly Foot, her savior. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years had passed, and now she was a woman. Both of her parents were dead, and she was to be married to Jonathan Brisby next month, stepping into the proper duties that came with being the Duchess of Stockworth. This could be her last chance to find the Ape-Man. The last chance to properly thank him for all that he’d done for her. Her last chance to see Hatchetfield, the town she’d grown to love. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she stepped off of the jet and breathed in the Hatchetfield air, she murmured slightly to herself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This time, Lucy, this time for sure.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy groaned and rolled over, her hand fumbling for the alarm clock on her bedside table. She cracked a sleepy eye open and was met by the sight of the thick black curtains sectioning off her room in the survivor’s warehouse in the underground base. It was strange how this had become her life now. Just a few months ago, she’d been working to discover the man who’d saved her life all of those years before, and now, here she was, having found him and now working as a schoolteacher in an underground base. When one considered the fact that she’d had a long day the day before, she found herself feeling rather calm and collected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she stood and got dressed, first ensuring that her curtained-off door was sealed shut, she tried (and failed) not to think about the image of Jonathan that had appeared in her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why had it seemed so real? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know where Jonathan was now...but everything pointed towards the fact that he was most likely dead. She’d tried not to let her thoughts of him occupy her mind during her time with Chumby, and she’d mostly succeeded, only thinking of him when she would tell Chumby about her life before the apocalypse, but it puzzled her that now he was there, appearing in her mind. But why did it look like he’d been shot? Jonathan was a hunter, yes, with little respect for nature lest it earned him some respect in return. The fact that she’d seen him with two bullet wounds was something of a mystery to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonathan was a hunter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not the hunted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook those thoughts away as she left her small room to head to the communal bathrooms so she might brush her teeth, moving between the rows of curtained-off homes and rooms belonging to the small number of people who’d been able to escape the Hatchetfield madness. John had mentioned trying to construct better homes for the people, see if they could establish more permanent and better-quality apartments for them to live in, but she knew that logistically it would take a while. In some ways, everyone was a neighbor in their own right, finding places where they’d get to know more people, redistributing rations and goods where it was needed. It was truly a shame that the number of survivors was extremely small in comparison to the number of people that had been lost and the people that were still missing. It was difficult for her to believe that so many people had lost their lives in such a short span of time. She didn’t know if the world outside still remained or if they too had fallen to the wrath of the Lords in Black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook those thoughts away as she made it to the rows of sinks in a large bathroom, taking out the toothbrush she’d been supplied with as well as the small toothpaste ration she’d been given for the month.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tall teenager with russet curls tucked under a yellow beanie walked up alongside her, brushing her own teeth as well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Hey, Lucy,” The girl tiredly greeted her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, Deb,” Lucy smiled warmly, “Did you sleep well?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deb shrugged as she brushed her teeth, “Alright enough, but I was up late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Lucy spit into the sink, “Seeing Alice again?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deb smiled, “Yeah, she was reading some stuff for her Dad and she likes it when I’m there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is Mr. Woodward?” Lucy inquired, remembering the man who’d also been attacked by Ted Spankoffski. Her heart had broken for the man when it was revealed that he’d gone blind as a result of the attacks. He’d seemed like a perfectly lovely fellow. What’s more, he was friends with Paul. Though she might not have known the man all that well, she knew that he had good taste in friends, and from what little she knew about Mr. Woodward, it was that he shouldn’t have been attacked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand went quickly to the spot on her neck, where the cold, painful object had been jammed into the base of her skull as she failed to fight back against the man who’d done something to her. While all of the appointments that she’d had with Dr. McMurray, following the incident had come up empty in terms of whether or not she’d been impacted, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deb shrugged, spitting her toothpaste foam into the sink, “He’s still optimistic that this isn’t permanent, which is good, I suppose...but he’s learning braille, which will be good since he likes to work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Lucy nodded, “How’s Alice handling it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deb sighed, “She’s scared to leave him...after the attacks, she keeps worrying that something will go wrong if she’s not there with him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy nodded, looking down. It made sense, she supposed, that a dutiful daughter like she perceived Alice Woodward, Deb’s lovely girlfriend, to be, would be afraid to leave her father’s side after an attack on his life had occurred, much like the one in February had. It was odd. Two months had passed since the attack had occurred, and yet, Lucy herself was still afraid to find herself wandering about in empty places. It made sense that Alice would want to take care of her father again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why had this attack happened to them?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had the man who’d attacked her been hoping to accomplish? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, she trusted Dr. McMurray’s opinion that she was physically healthy, but what was it that was eating away at her? Why could she not shake the overwhelming feeling of dread that seemed to overtake her when she thought about that horrible day? Why did those worries and thoughts consume her endlessly-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deb raised an eyebrow, “Lucy, you okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Lucy was snapped out of her reverie, “Oh...oh yes, I’m fine!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was not fine. Her legs were trembling for reasons she couldn’t explain and she couldn’t get herself to stop. It felt like her heart was about to burst from her chest the longer the image of the man with the mustache, in the hospital gown, holding the dark object to her neck plagued her mind. She tried taking deep breaths as she forced a smile, nodding along with her own sentence, “No worries at all!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deb didn’t seem convinced, “Lucy, your nose is bleeding.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy’s hand went instantly to her nose and the scent of iron hit her full force as she felt something wet and warm touch her fingertips. She glanced down at her fingers and found the aforementioned red fluid covering her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What on earth?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muttering a curse under her breath, she held a hand to her nose as she tilted her head upward, her other hand blindly fumbling around for a towel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Deb handed her a towel and instantly she pressed it to her face, sopping up the red mess. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She muttered a muffled thank you as Deb looked on her with concern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where had this come from?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while, she removed the towel from her nose, the bleeding stayed by the looks of it. The towel was almost completely covered in blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you’re okay?” Deb asked as she handed Lucy a damp rag to help clean up the dried blood that was caked over her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be honest, Lucy wasn’t entirely sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was probably just a mess after the stress of the previous weeks. Between work and strange dreams, it made sense that such a life would leave her a little off-balance. Besides, she’d used to get random nosebleeds all the time when she was a child. There was nothing to worry about, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she nodded, wiping away the dried blood, “Yes, I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She only hoped that it wasn’t a lie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul fidgeted nervously at the cafeteria table, his eyes nervously searching the several entrances for the two people he and Emma were expecting to meet. His hand went to his pocket, where he was holding their printed-out sonogram from Phillipa, his hand having shocks sent through it as it brushed over the material.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today was going to be the day they told Bill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For whatever reason, he couldn’t stop himself from being somewhat nervous. He shouldn’t have been, he knew. Bill was his best friend, after all, so there was no need for him to worry as much as he was...yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of his stomach doing cartwheels as he kept glancing at the clock and the doors, his hand gently brushing over the image.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll be here, Paul,” Emma muttered, taking a sip of the tea she’d gotten, looking up from the notebook she’d documented a few of her ideas surrounding her and Hidgens’ work to smile slightly at him, “It’s all going to be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he murmured sheepishly, “I just can’t help it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the worst that’s gonna happen?” Emma grinned at him, “He hugs us both so tightly he accidentally squeezes the baby out?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross, Em,” he smiled, shaking his head, “Nah, I think the worst is that we both end up crying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh he’ll cry for sure,” Emma smiled, closing her notebook, “But it’ll be a happy cry. It’s not something to be worried about. You brought the sonogram to show him, right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled and nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they’d both gotten back from their appointment with Phillipa from the day before, they’d been unable to get back to what little work they had for the day and instead found themselves staring in wonder at the pictures that Phillipa had printed out for them. It was so strange for him, to be looking at the face of their child. They’d stared at it for what felt like an eternity, both of them just holding one another while absentmindedly discussing baby names (which had come up rather empty when it came to success). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, where had the time gone? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed like it was only yesterday that they’d been told that they were expecting a baby, and now they were already past the first trimester.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was still bizarre to him that he’d been allowed to have this wonderful opportunity with the woman he loved more than anything. God, he’d always considered kids as a small (very small) possibility for his future, but he’d never imagined that it was going to happen. After all, who would want to have a kid with him? Much less spend their lives with someone as dull as he? And then Emma had come along and shoved all of those worries aside and destroyed them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still spent plenty of nights worrying about the baby itself. After all, they were in the middle of the apocalypse. What kind of life would they be giving their baby? He didn’t want the only world their child knew to be the metallic walls of an underground military base. Their child deserved to see the sky, the sun, the world around them. Though he’d never taken the time to appreciate it in his life as he should have, he knew that their child should have at the very least gotten the chance. And that chance had been stolen from them by the Lords in Black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew well enough that the world itself wasn’t fair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it was very likely that they’d be raising their kid in a world underneath the world he and Emma knew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t mean that he would stop fighting. That either of them would stop fighting. What mattered was that they kept fighting to make the world a better place for their kid. A better world for their family. He already had a small amount of outrage that Ethan, Lex, and Hannah were growing up in a world that was taken away from them. They were all just kids. God, they deserved a better lot in life than what they’d been given. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma nudged him gently, “They’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked to one of the entrances to see Alice and Bill walking towards them. Bill was using his cane, as per usual, Alice holding onto his arm as she led him in their direction. She said something to Bill that Paul couldn’t hear and Bill smiled greatly. Alice waved happily over at them as she led Bill over to their table, holding a container of what Paul could only assume were lunch rations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d changed plans from having dinner that week since Bill needed to schedule an appointment with his specialist for that day, so they’d decided to meet up and have </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Uncle Paul!” Alice greeted him, smiling brightly as he and Emma stood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice pulled him into a tight hug, reminding him of all the times he’d watch her when she was younger, and he’d run into his arms at the front door with an excited shout of ‘Uncle Paul!’. God, she was so grown up now, how did Bill deal with it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Alice,” he smiled, “How’s it going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Alice grinned, moving to hug Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul turned his attention to Bill, pulling him into a side hug, “How are you doing, Bill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill smiled slightly, “I’ve been better, but it is nice to get out of the apartment for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since Paul and Emma had both started working from home, and Bill had been sent home to recuperate after the attack, the times when he and Emma had seen Bill had dwindled sadly. He often went over to their apartment, bringing them some stuff for their rations and checking in on Bill to see how he was doing, but with as much work as he was given, it was a little difficult. He bit back on a twinge of guilt that rose in his chest. He should have been there for Bill. Or at the very least been there more often. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill hugged Emma before fumbling around and sitting in his seat, smiling softly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice opened up their food and placed it in front of them, “Sorry we had to cancel lunch.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Emma nodded, “Plans change.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill chuckled slightly, “And when they do, it’s rarely in your favor…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul chuckled, “Ain’t that the truth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, they lapsed into silence before Bill turned his face up, his smile gone briefly, “Have you heard anything about Ted?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul was taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bill </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be the one to ask about Ted. With as much antagonism that happened between the two of them, and the attacks that had happened on Emma and then their small group, he would have figured that Bill would be the one to want to forget Ted had ever existed. That the man had ever once considered himself to be a friend of theirs. He didn’t know what to tell him. With as little development that had been made in their case, what was he supposed to tell Bill? That they-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We haven’t found much,” Emma sighed, taking the initiative to answer the question, “Most leads suggest that the portal incident screwed with his mind...Dr. Abadi thinks it gave him some sort of panic disorder with delusions of grandeur, but after what happened…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma paused, her voice going shaky as she considered Ted. Her hand found his under the table and he could feel that she was suddenly shaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the attacks that had happened in February, the mention of what Ted had done to all of them was enough to make Emma look as if she’d seen a ghost. Even talking about his attempt to kill her had made her go shaky, but when it came to him...he could see the worry in Emma’s eyes. It had been something of a miracle when she’d stabbed Ted, even if he still managed to harm himself with the mysterious syringes, which still hadn’t been identified. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s still comatose,” Emma went on, “In regards to the syringes and what he did to...to both of you, we still don’t know. His scans are the same as they were beforehand, and we’re still not entirely sure what happened to him, but we do know that there’s still an unidentified component in his blood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unidentified?” Alice asked, leaning forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma nodded gravely, “We first noticed it the day of the attack and we still have no idea what it is. We’re still in the process of identifying its structure, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Alice looked down, “I can’t believe you guys are still trying to help him...after all he did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alice…” Bill whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she asked, “He could have killed all of you! Hell, didn’t he attack you, Emma, a long time ago?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma looked down and bit her lip, “Well...we’re not trying to help, so much as understand. If we can get the infuriating Ted back...then sure, but there’s no guarantee that he’s still there...especially not after...you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill cursed lowly under his breath, “I can’t believe this is happening...Ted might not have been a good person, but he didn’t deserve...whatever the hell this is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul nodded, “I just...I can’t forgive him for what he did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bruised and bloody image of Emma, after Ted had attacked her appeared in his mind. He’d nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. Both her and their baby were almost taken from him because of his actions. While it was true that Ted’s mind had been put through a great deal of turmoil, he couldn’t find it in his heart to use that for an excuse. Not only had he tried to murder the most important people in his life, but a little while later, he’d attacked him, Lucy, Tom, Bill, and Lex. All of those were </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>people. Flawed people, yes, but they didn’t deserve to be attacked in the manner that they’d been. Hell, Lex was still a teenager. Bill and Tom were both fathers…Bill wasn’t even actively fighting against the Lords in Black like they were. Yes, he worked for the information department, but he’d done nothing to provoke the Lords in Black directly, and he’d lost his eyesight in the process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He did agree, though, that Ted hadn’t deserved what had happened to him. He had no idea what Ted’s mind must have been put through. He couldn’t imagine the pain that he must have gone through. Dr. Abadi had said his mind was being torn apart. How or why, however, he’d never know but it didn’t seem right for him to be suffering. He only hoped that they could figure it out to give the real Ted...the bastard they all knew and semi-liked a real chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma squeezed his hand under the table, snapping him out of his thoughts and looking at him comfortingly. He squeezed her hand back as she spoke, “Anyway, we didn’t come here to talk about him, okay? We’re here to enjoy the first lunch date we’ve had in…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice chuckled and interjected, “Forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, thank you, Alice,” Emma smiled, “So let’s not think about what happened... let’s talk about actually cool things...unlike Ted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul chuckled at her sudden transition to exuberance. She really knew what to say to make the awkwardness and tension go away. He smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead, making her and Alice roll their eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross,” Emma smiled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking gross, Uncle Paul,” Alice said sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill gasped and turned in Alice’s direction, “Language! Both of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Bill,” Emma cracked a grin, “I’m a bad influence.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill nodded, shaking his head with a small smile,  “Anyway, what did you guys want to talk about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh right…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He suddenly looked at Emma, butterflies in his stomach. Why was he so nervous? Bill was his best friend and would be supportive, there was no need for there to be any worries surrounding it. Besides, Bill owed Paul a babysitting job and a half, he’d be the cool Uncle to his and Emma’s child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s with the faces?” Alice asked, looking very confused, “You guys have that disgusting mushy look you get.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on,” Emma urged him, “It’s nothing to be afraid of…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…” he began, sighing deeply, “Okay...well, Bill...um...how would you...what…” he turned to Emma pleadingly, unable to find the right words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma rolled her eyes and smiled softly, her code for ‘you’re such a dork’ before leaning forward, “What Paul is trying to tell you, Bill and Alice, is that homeboy here knocked me up three months ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill straightened, looking very stiff as shock filled his expression. Alice looked equally taken aback. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well...that was one way to let the cat out of the bag.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Emma began, never ceasing in her bluntness, “How does ‘Uncle Bill’ sound to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill stammered on his words, looking like he didn’t know what to think. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You...you mean…” he whispered, looking in Paul’s direction, “You mean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma’s pregnant, Bill,” Paul laughed, chuckling at the words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice’s jaw dropped, the excitement that crossed her face reminded Paul of when she was a little girl and he’d tell her they could get ice cream as long as she promised not to tell her dad (even if he’d end up telling Bill anyway). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Alice smiled wide, “You’re...You’re gonna have a kid?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul nodded, squeezing Emma’s hand as Alice squealed excitedly, looking happier than anything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill was still in shock, his unseeing eyes filling with tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bill,” Paul began, reaching for his friend’s hand, “Are you okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill nodded, his lower lip trembling, “Yeah...yeah...I’m good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took in a shaky breath before looking up at him, “I’m just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>so happy for you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice rubbed her father’s back as he burst into tears, “You’re gonna be parents...I can’t...I can’t believe it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill stood, grabbing his cane and moving around the table. Paul stood to meet him as his friend threw his arms around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so h-happy for you,” Bill was crying, “I’m so happy....”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul suddenly felt like crying, tears pricking the backs of his eyes as Bill hugged him for an almost uncomfortable length of time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they broke apart, Bill clapped Paul on the back, “God...I get to be the coolest uncle, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma laughed, “I mean, you’ll have to fight my brother-in-law, General McNamara, and Major Lee for it, but something tells me they feared the moment you entered the game.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As they should,” Bill laughed, rubbing his eyes, he looked vaguely in Emma’s direction, “How far along are you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three months,” Emma smiled, “I’ll tell you Paul was anxious to tell you the second we found out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul blushed slightly. To be honest, he was a little frustrated with himself for having messed it all up. He just couldn’t find the right words. However, he was glad that Emma had found the perfect words. The joy on Bill’s face was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Bill asked excitedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Paul shook his head, “We wanted it to be a surprise, but we did get the sonogram...if you want to…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trailed off, his heart clenching with sadness as he realized he wouldn’t get to properly show Bill the sonogram. There were plenty of things Bill wouldn’t get to see, especially where his and Emma’s child was concerned. He wanted to show Bill the sonogram. He wanted to show Bill pictures of the baby after it was born, just as Bill had shown Paul every single photograph of Alice as she grew up, back at CCRP. His heart broke for his friend. In some ways, Bill had been the eyes of the office. Though he had the tendency to be relatively oblivious, he was definitely the gossiper. It was ironic and cruel that his eyesight should have been taken from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill smiled sadly, “It’s okay, Paul...I’m too happy to let that ruin this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul nodded, hugging his friend again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides,” Bill spoke, a slightly forced smile on his face, “I’ve still got four other senses to be the coolest uncle with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul laughed, “I’m just happy that you’re happy...besides, I might need some parenting tips in the future.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill laughed, turning to them both, a big smile on his face, “If you’re looking for a good name, Bill’s good for a boy...and Billie for a girl.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma scoffed, “I like Billie for a girl...but Bill? Kinda boring for a boy, huh? No offense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill chuckled, “None taken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They settled down to eat, Bill talking to Emma about the pregnancy and what she was dealing with, undoubtedly embarrassing Alice as he brought up stories from when she was a baby and what he’d done as an early father. Paul could only watch in amazement as he saw a light unlike anything else in the eyes of his best friend. In some ways, the news of the new baby had made Bill excited, less downtrodden than he’d been the last couple of times he’d visited. As he watched Bill talk and smile, laughing as he delivered personal anecdotes from his experiences, Paul squeezed Emma’s hand, smiling at her as she laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, he could get used to a family like this one.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander leaned over his laptop, staring at the more recent reports that he’d received from Emma and Hidgens. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, casting a secondary glance at the watch on his wrist as he analyzed the different slides of cells that had been placed before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d not slept much in the past few weeks, working as much as he could to generate some theories and conclusions that related to the issues of their situation. He was tired, he knew, but he was on a work high, which meant that he would work for as long as he needed to before losing it. He just hoped that this was one of those cases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For two months, he and the others had been working hard to try and solve the multiple mysteries that had inhabited the base, all of them seemingly following a bloodstained trail to the Lords in Black.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First and foremost, there was the mystery of Ted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Spankoffski, a man who, according to what records he could retrieve, half-assed everything except in his efforts to get a hookup, had been chosen by the bastard box (which they still didn’t know what that was) to do several unspeakable acts. His scans indicated that his brain was torn apart and his mind destroyed, which was only supported by the instance in which he’d attacked and attempted to murder Emma Perkins, claiming that she was a robot that murdered him. While his claims hadn’t made sense in the slightest, the few details he was able to provide were intriguing, and even more so, the differences in Ted’s personality that were chronicled after a long period of time. Several times, it had been documented that the irises of the man’s eyes had turned a bright yellow while the whites of the eye were blue, specifically following the portal incident, which brought a seemingly good (although he still hadn’t earned their trust) Henry Hidgens, when he’d attacked Emma Perkins (but that had only been for a split-second, according to Emma), and when he’d broken out of the citadel chambers, teleported around the base, stabbing several civilians and personnel with whatever those black syringe-like objects had been. All of this had supposedly led back to one specific Lord in Black, the Goat...whose name they still didn’t know, and the purpose behind the attacks was still unknown and presumably failed. Regardless, Ted was still in a coma and they couldn’t figure out the cause. From Dr. Abadi’s weekly assessments of the man, he appeared to be recovering nicely from the stab wound that Emma had given him, and his health, other than the indication that the Black and White had most definitely screwed with his mind, was inexplicably normal. In addition to that, the component within his blood had yet to be identified, which made matters all the more difficult for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there was the mystery of Henry Hidgens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Emma had mentioned that some version of Jane had told her to find Hidgens, but the fact remained that Lex had summoned him in a way that was odd for him. Hidgens didn’t seem to understand why he was there, or why he’d been summoned when he’d been summoned. He claimed to be the Henry Hidgens that had died in 1975, having had his body possessed by one of the false Lords in Black…the mask, who’d merely acted as a puppet as it allowed Webby to bring all of her siblings back into the world...their world. The fact remained that the man physically was a human...but that could have been falsified for all they knew- who knew what the Lords in Black were capable of? While he had made himself useful in helping their scientific analysis, as well as aiding Emma in her efforts to discover the biological constituents, she still couldn’t be sure that he was on their side. The fact that Lex had even summoned him without her knowing, without her sound mind at the same time was something that was difficult to understand. Overall, Hidgens still hadn’t proven himself in Xander’s eyes. Not yet. Not when a man who knew he mattered too much to them to get rid of him, but still couldn’t be trusted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, of course, there were the attacks that occurred on February seventh, which therefore made everything all the more chaotic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First and foremost, why would Ted attack all of them with no known motive? Why would he attack them with a mysterious syringe-like object that seemingly had done nothing? He didn’t believe that this would have no end result, but the results of all the blood work, diagnostics, everything that Dr. McMurray had done, with several thorough reviews by Hidgens, Emma, Dr. Abadi, Dr. Kirk, Dr. Hallmark, Dr. Taylor, and himself, had revealed nothing. According to all tests, the victims were perfectly healthy. With the exception of Bill Woodward’s sudden blindness and Ted’s comatose state, the victims were presumably perfectly healthy. He trusted Dr. McMurray’s analysis, especially as it was sent through all of their top doctors, and Emma, all of them knew that the test results indicated nothing abnormal or anything that would warrant worry. But if that were true, then why would he bother attacking them, to begin with? To make matters worse, they had yet to properly analyze the dust-like remains of the weapons that Ted had attacked them with, and the substance that they’d seemingly been carrying. Because of this, they still had a dead-end when it came to knowing what Paul, Lex, Bill, Tom, and Lucy had all been attacked with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In addition to that, there was the matter of Wilbur Cross and the zealots of the Watcher. The fact that Cross had been there, on the day of the attack, on the lower floors where Ted had previously been made matters all the worse. Thankfully, June Schaeffer had been locked in her cell the whole time and no disturbances were detected, but the reason for Cross’s visit. Then there were the carnival-dressed zealots, the bodies of people who’d been overtaken by the Watcher’s power and followed his every whim. Some of the bodies had been identified, like Iris McCauley, but others like the Barker were still something of a mystery to them. They’d put out formal photographs and descriptions, giving them to Myrtle Dawson, who worked at the registration office, but hardly anybody had gone down to see if they could identify anyone. Sadly, Ethan had gone down there once or twice, but that was a matter of pain for Xander as everyone knew he was still looking for his father. It was a mercy that Tony Green had not been among the victimized attackers who passed away on February seventh, but he knew that Ethan was still at his wit’s end when it came to figuring out where his father was. The fact remained that the cellular decomposition of the bodies had yet to proceed in the way they’d all anticipated, and therefore, they had a morgue full of bodies that had yet to rot away. It was all so new and beyond their understanding which infuriated Xander to an extent. They’d found nothing which made their physiology different, only that the cells were extremely stubborn when it came to actively decomposing. Of course, the attack had taken out quite a few of their operatives, but all of the attackers had dropped dead, which seemed kind of counterproductive to Xander. Part of Xander was nervous that at any moment the corpses that were taking up most of the morgue would reanimate at any moment and then they’d have the Watcher’s undead army wreaking havoc on their base...again. He knew it was improbable, but stranger things had happened...and even if they hadn’t, this was Hatchetfield; anything was possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re thinking too hard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander looked up from his place on the couch and saw John leaning against their bedroom doorway, smiling fondly down at him. Xander chuckled to himself and glanced back down at his computer screen, stifling a yawn to make sure he didn’t give John too much power. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” he said nonchalantly, comparing two of Dr. McMurray’s reports on Lucy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” John nodded, walking over and sitting down beside him on the couch, “What are you working on?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed, “I can’t stop thinking that we might have missed something, John.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded, “I think we established that in our meeting with Emma and Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Xander waved him off, “I mean in regards to the attacks as a whole….there’s so much that we don’t yet understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” John nodded, “But we’re not going to get anything done if you overwork yourself, Xander. You know that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Xander sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “I know that there’s gotta be something in here that sticks out...just figuring out what is the real trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John rubbed circles into Xander’s shoulder blades, “We’ll figure it out, Xander.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed, “I know...but I at the very least want to have some control over when we do. We will figure it out whether we like it or not...but I’d like to figure out what kind of game they’re playing before all the people we’ve saved are lying dead at our feet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and buried his face in his hands. The worry that had been eating away at him for the past few months had grown in size with every unsatisfying report they’d received. It was something of a pain for him in the lack of knowledge. Xander was someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know as much as he could...and this was a situation where knowledge didn’t come easily. It hurt for him to know that this was something he wasn’t prepared for, as preparedness was something he’d always prided himself on, but this was a series of situations in which he felt like they were on the wrong end of a balance beam, slowly sinking down deeper and deeper into existence while the Lords in Black rose. This was a puzzle he was determined to solve, and yet, he was missing way too many pieces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed and sat up straight, “You know we have a meeting with them all tomorrow night, right? Lucy’s coming this time...so that’s good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded slightly, still staring down at the seemingly endless document he’d pulled up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xander, there are only so many variables we can control in this scenario-” John reasoned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why we need to control what variables we can!” Xander exclaimed in exasperation, “John, people are frightened...Hell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>frightened. We have a responsibility to these people!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Xander,” John spoke calmly, unfazed by Xander’s sudden outburst, “But we-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we don’t know what’s happening,” Xander went on, “How can we keep them safe. I mean...</span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, John...we don’t know if these survivors are the last people alive on Earth...and what about Emma and Paul? What kind of world are we letting them bring their baby into?  What kind of world do we want to live in?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Xander, breathe,” John said calmly, placing his hands on Xander’s shoulders, “You’re spiraling...you haven’t slept much in the past few weeks-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No time to,” Xander mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” John sighed, “Just...please...let's just get some sleep, and we can both work our asses off tomorrow...okay? We’ll have that dinner, we’ll reconvene...you know. But we all need to be at our best, and you, Major Lee, aren’t at your best right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed and looked down, “John, we can’t let them catch us by surprise...not again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” John spoke softly, “But if we overwork ourselves, we’ll get sloppy, okay? And if we get sloppy it would only make their eventual blows worse...you know that, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed and looked down. He knew John was right to an extent. While there was so much at play that they didn’t understand he knew that they couldn’t understand yet, and it would be better to get a handle on it as soon as they could, he wouldn’t deny that his work ethic and mind was always better when he was well-rested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed and squeezed his hand, “Let’s just go to bed, okay, Xan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed again before closing his laptop slowly, “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” John smiled, holding out his hand to help him off the couch, “Let worries about tomorrow come tomorrow, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander nodded slowly, “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few moments later, when they were both in bed, Xander found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t know whether or not the worries of what he didn’t understand were simply prying away at him, or whether or not they made him a fearful man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the questions didn’t seem to stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like a tornado, they all seemed to spiral about in his mind, making him feel that somehow he’d let their family down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For so long, John had been the only family he’d had. And he was fine with that. John and he seemed to be against the world while they led PEIP together. Then John had disappeared from his life in one of the resets, and Xander was living in a world where John McNamara had never existed...a theoretical physicist who’d been hoping for adventure, but instead found an underfunded secret facet of the government which lacked a permanent leader. Then there had been an anomaly, which had led him to Emma. Then Emma was saved in that car crash by a force unseen, which led him to the three anomalies of that incident, which, in turn, led him to Hannah and Lex Foster, and getting them away from their horrible mother. Then they’d summoned Tom once they’d realized Hannah had a connection with the Black and White, and Tom had a connection with Emma through his deceased wife, all the while Emma suffered numerous blackouts and seizures. This had all led them to the false Henry Hidgens, who postulated that Emma’s condition was as a result of her pulling at memories of a soulmate who’d never existed, which revealed that Xander and Lex also had soulmates who were erased from reality. Then Emma died, but not really, and restored the memories of Paul, Ethan, and John to all of those who knew them. Then Lex and Hannah had brought them back...and though Paul had an attempted infection occur, and several people seemingly wanted them dead, suddenly, Xander had a bigger family than he’d ever known. They’d been torn apart several times but they all had found their way back to one another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It astounded him that only a few months ago, Xander had only had a watercolor portrait of John that had come from his own mind to indicate that he’d ever been a part of his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a child, he’d only had his mother, and by the time John came into his life, his mother had started to fade away too. Now, however, Xander had a larger family than he’d ever expected himself to have. He had several people who loved him and John and expected them to help them survive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander only hoped he wasn’t letting them down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The man was a prisoner in his own mind. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A prisoner in his own body.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For two months his body remained stationary. Asleep. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had only been able to listen to the world around him as they analyzed him, gathering samples for their own gain while he himself could feel nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t even find the strength to speak. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was still a servant of the Master. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>While the world above moved around his still body, everyone believing his consciousness had slipped into nothingness, he could only watch the wrath of his own doing make itself known, relieving that horrible lifetime when it had all gone wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t he have just let it go when he didn’t get an invitation to the wedding?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t he have just not shown up?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t he have just spent one night without getting drunk off of his ass?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t Paul just be capable of printing his own shit out on time for once?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did he fall asleep at CCRP?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did he run?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did he believe he could actually fix things?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t he have just left things well enough alone?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did the Master choose Him?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He knew that when the Master had made him take the venom, he’d known he’d be forced to watch as he murdered the only woman he loved. As he was forced to live in the bitter and ugly truth that the only cause for his misery was himself. He had no one to blame but himself and he was paying the price. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sure, the Box belonged to the Bastard of Time, his Master, but it was Ted who’d done everything to land himself there. He’d been chosen, so every memory was his own. Perfectly engineered for his guilt and pain to prosper. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d done this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If he had a life before this, it all faded away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was...what was his name?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know...the names made him remember...and the Master would not allow that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And so he watched helplessly as Jenny faded off into nothingness, her last words being the only nickname he’d ever liked as she crumbled in his arms. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Teddy…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that his name?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Had he ever had one?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The man sobbed as he no longer could tell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was his life now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was where he belonged. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This...was his Nightmare.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And his Nightmare was reality.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wonder what's up with Lucy, huh?</p>
<p>She's doing amazing though and we love her. </p>
<p>Bill is determined to be the best uncle to baby Paulkins, so John, Tom, and Xander better watch out. </p>
<p>Paul loves his family BTW. </p>
<p>Xander, you're doing amazing, sweetie.<br/>But what about the mysteries of the base?<br/>Surely, this isn't a prelude to something awful happening, right?</p>
<p>Oh no...Poor Ted. </p>
<p>We'll just have to wait and see...won't we?</p>
<p>Please leave comments and/or kudos if you would like! I love reading your theories and feedback surrounding this fic and I really hope you guys are enjoying it!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading! If you're in Texas, or any other state that's being hit hard by all of this snow, please stay warm, safe, and healthy! Wear layers, keep your faucets dripping, and please be safe!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. There Was a Stained Glass Variation of the Truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They discuss their findings...and find connections they can't make sense of.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song 'Neptune' by Sleeping at Last</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: mentions of attacks, self-harm (because Blinky is a bitch), death, car crash, spousal death, mental abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 11th, 2019 </p><p>End Days</p><p>Emma sighed and rubbed at her eyes as she stared at the computer in the dark. She should have been asleep hours before, but she knew that if she didn’t get this done, she wouldn’t want to complete it in the morning, and therefore this was the best option. </p><p>She checked Paul’s bedside clock, craning herself over his sleeping form to make out the blurred numbers. </p><p>
  <em> 11:36 </em>
</p><p>How had it already been over an hour since she and Paul had gone to bed? </p><p>In the dim light from their false window, she glanced down and stared at Paul’s sleeping figure. His eyes were squeezed shut and his brow was furrowed, reminding her of all the times he was deep in thought. His soft hair was a mess and it was almost impossible for her to maintain self-control of herself and not run her hands through it. It was a fucking crime, she thought, for someone to be as cute as he was. </p><p>Since they’d told Bill earlier that day about her pregnancy, they’d both been really excited, but easily worn out as soon as they’d got home, which meant that he fell asleep a lot easier than she did. It was because of this, that her mind remained awake and alert</p><p>Sense told her to close her laptop and cuddle close to him, leaving her mind to sink into unconsciousness and worry about tomorrow's problems when they confronted her, but she felt it was her job to read over what reports existed, at least before they had to have the meeting with John and Xander and the rest of their group to present their findings and hopefully figure out some sort of next step. So far, she’d read over every single one of the autopsy reports and had not found many differences between them...so naturally, she’d go over the first one again.</p><p>She sighed and turned her eyes back to the selection of autopsy reports that she’d looked over. </p><hr/><p>
  <b>PEIP Hatchetfield Command Base- Mortuary Services </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Commanding Officer: Dr. Arnold Taylor</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Autopsy Reports (2019)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Subject: February Seventh Attackers</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Subject Names (Last, First)-Autopsy Date (MM/DD/YY)-Presiding Doctor</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Doe, John-02/08/2019-Taylor, Arnold* </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rennick, Jason-02/22/2019-Taylor, Arnold</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Doe, Jane-03/07/2019-Taylor, Arnold</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Poe, Anna-03/22/2019-Taylor, Arnold</em>
</p><p>
  <em>McCauley, Iris-04/05/2019-Taylor, Arnold*</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> *-Autopsy was witnessed by Professor Henry Hidgens </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Six autopsies throughout the past few months and they had next to nothing.</p><p>She clicked on the first patient’s report and reread it over.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em> <b>PEIP Hatchetfield Command Base: Mortuary Services</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Autopsy</strong> <b> Report</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>Date: 02/08/2019</b> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <b>Presiding Doctor: Arnold Taylor</b> </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> <strong>Name:</strong> Doe, John </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Date of Birth:</strong> Unknown </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Date of Death:</strong> 02/07/2019 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Time of Death:</strong> 15:23  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Unknown (as eyes had been marbled over with purple and yellow at death) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Hair Color:</strong> Bald </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Height</strong>: 6’10 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Weight:</strong> 230-250 lbs </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Race:</strong> Caucasian </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Lord in Black:</strong> Allegedly, the Watcher</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> <strong>Identifying Markings:</strong> Tattoo on the right forearm containing the words ‘Oculis Mille’, which translates to ‘one thousand eyes’ in Latin, as well as some other designs surrounding the message that I cannot make out. The tattoo pigmentation is three different shades of purple, with some slight detailing in black and yellow (barely visible), and indicates that the tattoo was received recently. Scarring and calluses on palms and arms. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Physical Wounds:</strong> Bullet clipping on the left calf (not lethal), bruises on arms, legs, and chest (self-inflicted)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Toxicological Results:</strong> A toxin was located within the subject’s blood. So far, it remains unidentified, but a sample will be sent for further analysis. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Toxicological Results (updated):</strong> The toxin located within the subject’s blood has a structure similar to the neurotoxin, ricin, although there is another unidentified component found. This sample will be sent to Professor Henry Hidgens and Emma Perkins for further analysis. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Summary:</strong> The subject is a man who appears to be within the age range of thirty-seven to forty-six. His physique is very muscular, especially around the limbs, and judging from the clothing he arrived at the morgue in, his position under the control of the alleged Watcher was the position of something of a strong man. This theory is supported by the scarring and calluses that mark the subject’s hands and arms. The subject’s cause of death is unclear, but judging from the marbling of the corneas with the obnoxious shades of violet and yellow, my first assumption would be that the subject died as a result of the unidentified neurotoxin specified in the toxicological results outlined above. It appears that as a result of this toxin, all organs stopped working at the time of death, although no cellular decay has been noted. In addition, though none of the physical external wounds were lethal, it is quite evident that the contusions and bruises noted all over the victim’s body (some older and more severe than others) were self-inflicted, which gives some indication of the nature under which these people were living. Because this person was living under the influence of ‘the Watcher’, this would be a good aspect to add to the developing profile on the Lords in Black (See file LIB000004).  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em><strong>Cause of Death:</strong> Unclear </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Signature:</strong> Arnold M. Taylor </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Additional Witness:</strong> Henry L. Hidgens </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>All of the autopsy reports were similar in that nature. There were reports of little cellular decomposition, unexplained bruises, and an overall unclear cause of death. Of course, Iris McCauley’s profile had only been slightly different in the regard that a tattoo had been found on her arm as well, only it had said ‘<em> Oculis non mentior </em> ’ which translated to ‘eyes do not lie’ and they’d actually found some cellular decay.</p><p>It seemed that all of the Watcher’s loyal followers bore some tattoo with unidentified intricate markings surrounding some phrase in Latin which had to do with eyesight, the most common one, appearing on most of the cadavers they found carrying the phrase ‘ <em> Occulis mille </em>’. She tried to avoid looking at the pictures of the cadavers, as she would have liked to avoid the feeling of vomiting in the obscene hours of the night. Of course, it was a mercy that the morning sickness had begun to subside as she exited her first trimester, but she was still in a stage where the scent of anything overtly strong, like whatever the hell Hidgens had eaten before coming for their hour of lab time the day before, made her puke her guts up. Besides, she’d seen the photographs of the cadavers way too many times and she would have liked to avoid that as well.</p><p>She moved to a separate file, the profiles they’d begun on the Black and White a few months before, and reviewed the information. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>PEIP Hatchetfield Command Base</b>
</p><p>
  <b>File Compilation 09101</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Lords in Black</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> “The Spider”-LIB000001 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The Singer”-LIB000002 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The Creature”-LIB000003 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The Watcher-LIB000004 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The Goat”-LIB000005 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The Smile”-LIB000006 </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The case file compilation had been something she and Xander had started with the assistance of Hidgens a few months before in order to keep track of what little they knew of the Lords in Black as a whole. She scrolled through the fires and clicked on the one for the Watcher, which had quickly become one of the more packed files, especially following the attacks of February. In some ways, this had been their way of keeping track of what little they knew of the Lords in Black and organized it in a way where they were able to keep track of everything. </p><p>Looking over the compilation of files that she’d collected which seemed to relate to the Watcher was something she found relatively easy. Considering how they barely had enough to make the files seem remotely full, there wasn’t a whole lot to review there, only that they knew the Watcher seemingly abused his followers, which she figured would explain the bruises and contusions that they’d found on nearly all of the bodies.  In addition, the tattoos that were present on them...why did Iris have one that was different from most others? Out of the twenty-seven attackers that were implicated in the break-in, why did Iris, and only one other man, have different Latin phrases?</p><p>Of course, Iris’s phrase sort of made sense when it came to it, but there was one body in particular, the only body that had a different phrase that hadn’t had an autopsy conducted on it, primarily because his cause of death was different from most of them. Rather than dropping dead in tandem with the majority of the other zealots, this man had been gunned down by Hidgens when he’d attacked John shortly after Tom had been attacked by Ted. He’d been dressed like something of a Barker, probably working a strength test or some weird shit like that. Judging from John’s description of the man himself, it seemed as though he’d had this strange ability to get into their heads, making him acknowledge all of his weaknesses, making him feel like he was powerless to stop whatever it was that he was trying to prevent. John’s description alone of that occurrence had been enough for Emma to try and steer clear of him, no matter how dead he appeared. </p><p>The man’s tattoo held the phrase “Weve 'iam vos vigilo”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> We’ve been watching you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Emma shuddered at the idea of it. Whatever it was that the watcher was, she had no interest in finding out firsthand what that meant. </p><p>At first, she’d been so sure that the Lords in Black were one unified group, with similar powers under Webby, but now she wasn’t so sure. It was evident that they were all unified through some strange familial bond, but there was something so strange about how they all seemed to affect people. First and foremost, the Goat had led Ted to madness, but his madness had been different from the rage and attacks that the Zealots of the Watcher. The Goat’s attacks were more singular, but effective, while the Watcher was more violent and swift...even if all of his surviving Zealots had dropped dead at the same time. She didn’t know what sense there was to the attacks, or what she was doing to help make sense of it...her only conclusion was that there was next to no sense at all.</p><p>She sighed as she closed out of the Lords in Black Profiles, glancing down at Paul again. She didn’t know whether or not she should be afraid or relieved that they’d not faced any attacks from Apatha or Wiggly. The fact remained that the only names they knew were Apatha, Wiggly, and Webby. She was grateful that Apatha hadn’t come near them so far, seeing as how she seemed to have a vendetta against Paul and nearly killed him a few months before. She didn’t want to think about the blue infection that had kept them apart longer than she dared think about. She didn’t know she could ever go through that again.  </p><p>She glanced down at Paul, who shifted slightly in his sleep, murmuring something she couldn’t understand under his breath. Whatever was going on inside his head, she’d never know for sure, she could only hope that they could all keep one another safe.</p><p>God, she couldn’t think straight.</p><p>She shut her laptop and placed it on her bedside table, grabbing her crutches from where they leaned against the wall to head to the living room. </p><p>Sometimes when she found herself awake, she liked sitting in the living room to think. She didn’t think she’d find herself falling asleep anyway. She figured it was just all part of being pregnant. Settling down on the couch, she ran her hands gently over her slightly protruding stomach.</p><p>She’d yet to feel any quickening, as Dr. Kirk had called it, but the sonogram from the days before had allowed her to remember that she was carrying a living thing. Something that was both her and Paul. If she couldn’t figure out how to make the world a better place for their baby, then what was the point? She knew her baby would be born in the base...but she didn’t want it to spend its whole life here. Sure, this would be the place where they’d be the safest, under the assumption the Lords in Black didn’t kill them first, but she didn’t want to raise her child without it ever seeing the sky.</p><p>Oftentimes she found herself wondering if the baby would be more of her or Paul. It was a question that crossed her mind too often. Would the child be more quiet and collected, always analyzing and slightly hesitant, or would they be hot-tempered or act on impulse. She knew she’d love the baby regardless of what they were, or how they acted, but she knew that for any ounce of Paul that she could see in their child, she’d thank whatever God existed. </p><p>She sat there for a while, her hand resting over her stomach as her thoughts bounced between the Lords in Black and her baby, trying not to find herself worrying about the future or what kind of life she’d be bringing their child into. When…</p><p>“Emma? <em> Emma?! </em>”</p><p>Her heart pounded in her chest as the sound of Paul’s panicked voice reached her ears. </p><p>“Paul?” she called out, grabbing her crutches and pushing herself off of the couch to make her way to the bedroom door when it opened quickly, revealing a shaking Paul, leaning against the doorframe. He looked extremely pale and shaky, as though he’d seen a ghost. She recognized that look all too well.</p><p>His eyes met hers and instantly they filled with tears. </p><p>“Em…” he whispered, his voice shaking, his whole body seemed to tremble as tears dripped down his face. With a start, she realized that tears weren’t the only thing that were falling. </p><p>“Paul,” she whispered, moving to support him, “Your nose is bleeding.”</p><p>He cursed under his breath as he shakily made his way over to the sink, Emma followed him as he made his way to the kitchen sink, leaning over it as the garnet fluid dropped steadily. He pinched the bridge of his nose as Emma handed him a bundle of tissues. Over the slight hum of the running sink water, she could hear the sobs he tried very hard to hide from her. He held the tissues to his face, sopping up the flowing blood, not looking at her as she rubbed his back gently.</p><p>“You’re okay,” she whispered, “I’m right here, okay? You’re okay.”</p><p>After a moment, his breathing evened slightly and his nose stopped bleeding. He threw away the blood-soaked tissues and braced himself against the countertop. She ran her hand up and down his back, bracing herself against one of her crutches as she did. </p><p>After a while, they slowly moved to the couch, Paul not saying anything as they moved. They sat there, them both craning into one another as they did, tears still falling silently down his face. She rubbed gently up and down his arm as they sat there, trying to provide some comfort while he tried desperately to control his breathing. </p><p>“The nightmare again?” she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder as he held onto her as if she were the only thing that was keeping him afloat on a stormy sea.</p><p>He nodded, “Same...but different…”</p><p>His voice was quiet as he tightened his grip on her slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply as he held her. </p><p>“How so?” she whispered, tracing shapes over his arm, as that always seemed to help him calm down. </p><p>Paul inhaled and exhaled shakily before speaking softly, “You’d know if it was me or not...right?” </p><p>She looked at him, “What?” </p><p>Paul’s voice was quiet and shaky, “This is going to sound stupid…”</p><p>“Nightmares are stupid,” she retorted calmly, “It’s okay, Paul…”</p><p>“If I was replaced...by someone who looked exactly like me…” he began, his voice shaky and tired as tears fell down his face, “Would you know it wasn’t me…”</p><p>The question took her aback. It made no sense, but dreams rarely made sense, she knew.</p><p>“What happened, Paul?” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple, “What happened?”</p><p>He sighed and inhaled sharply, shaking his head, “It’s fine.”</p><p>“It’s obviously not, Paul,” she whispered, “These dreams have been bugging you for a while, you can talk to me about them…”</p><p>Paul sighed, looking down, “Just promise that you’d know…”</p><p>“Know what?” she whispered, “Paul, baby, you’re not making any sense.”</p><p>“That y-you’ll know it’s not me…” he whispered, “You’d know...you’d know…”</p><p>Not knowing what else to say, Emma just held him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. He was probably delirious from the lack of sleep he’d been getting, but there was some weight to his words. One of his hands went to her stomach again holding her closer as he slowly calmed himself down. In some ways, this had become normal for him when he would try and calm down after a nightmare. He’d told her that listening to their baby’s heartbeat, as well as hers would always help him calm down, even on the worst of days, and judging from the way he was holding her, whatever he’d seen in his dream had done a number on him.</p><p>Still, she considered his question and she found the answer easily.</p><p>There was no doubt in her mind that she’d know him. </p><p>She knew his face, yes, as everyone else did, but she knew <em> him. </em></p><p>She’d know the real Paul Matthews if she saw a thousand copies of him standing in front of her. She’d know him anywhere. No matter how close anybody tried to get to copying him, she’d know. She knew him with a familiarity nobody else could replicate. </p><p>Not only did she know his face, but she knew his <em> soul.  </em></p><p>Their souls were part of the same puzzle. They belonged together in a sense that their souls completed one another. There was no way any other version of him, no carbon copy, or duplicate could ever make her feel the way that he did. She’d never know anyone but him. If there was another version of herself somewhere out there that couldn’t recognize the difference, then that person was just as much a false imitation of her as the version of him was.</p><p>So, yes...</p><p>“I promise,” she kissed him gently on the forehead, “I’d know you anywhere.”</p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 12th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p>Tom squeezed Becky’s hand as they made their way through the hallway, headed down to John and Xander’s apartment, Tim clutching his other hand. As the trio made their way down the hallway, Tom couldn’t ignore the small fluttering in his stomach. For whatever reason, he was inexplicably nervous for this meeting.</p><p>He didn’t know whether or not it was the worry surrounding the recent attacks, or just his lack of sleep getting to him, but he knew that with each of these meetings he felt as though the world was slowly losing its mind, and he found himself spinning faster and faster into an abyss of facts which made him feel like an idiot.</p><p>Becky squeezed his hand as they approached John and Xander’s door. In some ways, the three of them holding hands as they made their way to a friend’s house reminded him of times when he, Jane, and Tim would go to the staff Christmas parties at the school...only, something about this felt...sweeter. Almost as if he’d just fixed a piece of broken pottery and put it back together again. </p><p>“So,” Becky whispered excitedly, her red hair pulled up into a high ponytail that made her green eyes seem all the more clear to him, “What kinda surprise do you think we’ll get this time?” </p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” </p><p>“Well…” Becky chuckled, “I mean, we found out that Emma and Paul are expecting last time.”</p><p>“<em> We </em> found out,” Tim corrected, smiling mischievously up at them, “ <em> You </em> decided you were gonna be lame and keep it a secret from us.”</p><p>  Becky shrugged with a sly smile, “Guilty as charged. Though, buddy, you have to know that it was Paul and Emma’s secret to reveal.”</p><p>Tim shrugged, “I guess…”</p><p>Tom chuckled lightly, “Buddy, you’d never know how much crap we were able to get away with back in our day.”</p><p>“You got away with stuff?” Tim grinned. </p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Tom nodded, “We were quite the trouble makers back in our day.”</p><p>“Tom!” Becky scolded, smiling softly to herself.</p><p>“Had it not been for your mom, and Becky’s sense of morality,” Tom smiled, “I’m fairly certain that I would have been booted from high school, and then your aunt Cynthia would have killed me.”</p><p>Tim giggled, “Mom used to say you were knucklehead.”</p><p>Tom whistled under his breath, “Well, she was right.”</p><p>“You weren’t so bad,” Becky nudged him, “You just liked skipping a little too often.” </p><p>“Almost failed calc, had it not been for you,” Tom smiled at her, “Cynthia probably liked you more than she liked me…”</p><p>Becky nodded, “Well, see, I actually ate her meatloaf.” </p><p>“Oh come on!” Tom complained, “I grew up eating that my whole life, you can’t hold that against me!” </p><p>“Oh but I can,” Becky smiled, “Besides, she liked that I kept you honest.”</p><p>“Damn straight she did,” Tom nodded, “Well...in regards to the surprise thing, let’s just hope they stay away...just for one night. You know, I think we’ve had enough of those for a few years, huh?”</p><p>Tim laughed, putting Tom’s mind at ease. In some ways, the sound of his son’s laughter was able to melt most of his own fear and pain away.</p><p>Once they made it to the door, he glanced down at his son as Becky knocked softly on the door. He was fairly certain that Tim knew that these meetings weren’t just pleasant dinners with their friends and that the ends they were discussing were beyond their complete understanding. Tim wasn’t stupid, and the endeavor in the caves made it all the more evident, that they weren’t pleasant outings. Though Tim enjoyed seeing their friends and playing board games with Hannah, Tom was certain his son knew more than he let on.</p><p>The door opened and they were met by the smiling face of Xander. </p><p>“Hey, Xan,” Tom greeted, “Ready for another broken brain session?” </p><p>Xander chuckled and nodded, “Well...I’d say that all of us have probably lost some sleep over this. Paul and Emma look exhausted...Lucy too.”</p><p>“Miss Stockworth’s here!?” Tim said excitedly. </p><p>“Yep,” Xander nodded, “She wants to hear about the progress in the case. C’mon in!”</p><p>Tom nodded as Xander led them into the apartment, the smell of something delicious wafting over them. </p><p>“What’s that smell?” Becky asked, “That smells fantastic!”</p><p>“Some people weren’t taking the leftover paprika and tomatoes from the commissary, and the cooks wouldn’t touch em,” Xander smiled, “John’s making paprikash in large amounts, some for us tonight, and Lucy’s gonna take some for rationing to distribute to her students.”</p><p>“That’s wonderful!” Becky smiled, “And if there’s enough, could I bring some to the infirmary.”</p><p>They made it into the living room, seeing Paul and Emma in their usual places on the couch, Lex Ethan and Hannah curled up together on one of the large armchairs, Lucy standing rather awkwardly to the side, looking around like she wasn't sure what to do.</p><p>“Of course!” Xander grinned as they all took their places around the room, exchanging silent pleasantries with the others as they did, “Sometimes good food in vast amounts is rare to come by in times like these...and John’s determined to impress me with his ‘superior cooking skills’.”</p><p>“I will succeed!” John called from the kitchen. Through the entryway to the kitchen, Tom could see John bustling around the kitchen in an apron over his work clothes, his red hair pulled up in a ponytail that seemed to frizz slightly in the vapor from whatever it was that he was working. </p><p>Tom smiled to himself. It was true, in times such as these, community was truly a valued thing. Though most world-ending situations presented the idea that everyone was in it for themselves, in a kill or be killed type of mentality, he was reminded of times such as these, with actions John and Xander themselves conducted, that some unity was maintained...and the fact that leaders such as themselves made examples of this, made everything seem like it was going to be okay as long as they stuck together. </p><p>“God, that smells good,” Emma murmured from her place on the couch, hugging Tim as he approached her, “I tried to teach Paul how to make paprikash once...it didn’t end well.”</p><p>Paul groaned and rolled his eyes, but Tom could see how tired the man really was. Xander hadn’t been kidding when he mentioned that they were tired. </p><p>He glanced over at Lucy, who looked somewhat uncomfortable. Almost as if she didn’t believe she was welcome.</p><p>“Lucy,” Xander chuckled, “I told you that you can sit down...there’s no need to be anxious.”</p><p>Lucy looked surprised, “Sorry...I just...I’ve never done this before.”</p><p>“We’re all family here,” Xander smiled warmly, “And I know it takes a lot...to come here and discuss some of the things that we do...It’s some deep shit.”</p><p>“Xander!” Tom gasped, “Not in front of Tim and Hannah!”</p><p>“I know shit’s a word, Dad,” Tim deadpanned, making Emma burst into a bout of choked-off, stifled laughter, Paul going a hilarious shade of red as she laughed. Tom shot her a joking glare across at her. Emma threw a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. </p><p>Tom turned to Tim, “You’re not allowed to use Aunt Emma words until you’re at least twenty...got it?”</p><p>John emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, “The chicken and the sauce needs to be in the oven for about twenty minutes if we want to get started...Tim, Hannah, I’ve set up a few board games in the other room, if you want to go play?”</p><p>Tim and Hannah nodded, their eyes wide as they both ran over to the entryway to the media room as Xander retrieved his laptop and a set of files from a cupboard.</p><p>For a moment, they were all silent. All of them sitting there, waiting for something to happen</p><p>“Gather round, heathens,” John sighed, pulling a chair from the kitchen table, “Another day, another meeting.”</p><p>Emma sighed and sat up, pulling her laptop from a bag, her prosthetic laying across Paul’s lap as she sat up straighter. Lex and Ethan even began to look like they took more interest, and Tom was reminded of the reality of the situation. </p><p>The silence of the room was almost deafening before Xander inhaled and exhaled sharply, preparing to start the meeting off.</p><p>“Alright,” Xander sighed, “So, I’d first like to invite Lucy to give her account of the February seventh attacks, to see if her point of view is any different from what we’ve gathered. Unfortunately, Bill and Alice Woodward were unable to attend tonight, but Paul was able to gather some information regarding their perspectives of the incident, but I would like Lucy to give us her account first...if she’s comfortable.”</p><p>Lucy shifted slightly, inhaling and exhaling slightly as she allowed herself to sit down in one of the armchairs. For a moment, Lucy looked small, like she didn’t know what else to do. She looked down at the floor before she started to speak. </p><p>“Um...on the day of February seventh,” Lucy began, “I was reading <em> Wind in the Willows </em> to my class...when the alarm went off.”</p><p>She looked down, “In accordance with the protocol that I was given when I took on the position as a teacher, I put my students in the refuge locker, locked it up appropriately, and made sure that the room was properly barricaded.” She swallowed hard, “As I told you back when the attacks actually happened, I retrieved the firearm I was authorized to use in the time of emergency and planned to use it in the event one of the causes of the breach broke through the barricade…” she swallowed hard, “It was then that...that I was attacked, in the same manner, that... the rest of them were...since then, none of my medical reports have come up with anything...umm…”</p><p>She paused and inhaled sharply, her voice slightly shaky, “Yeah...that’s about it…”</p><p>Xander smiled comfortingly at the woman, “Thank you, Lucy...that took a lot.”</p><p>The woman nodded, her eyes trained downward. Tom could admire the woman. When he’d first met the woman, he’d thought the woman was this unassuming, meek young woman, with some false expectation of what safety and life on the base would be, and yet, somehow she’d proven herself to be a certified badass. Despite not being much older than Lex and Ethan, the woman had done everything in her power to keep his son safe during the attacks on February seventh, even bonding with him during a time when their survival in the remains of Hidgens’ basement was unlikely. And now, there she was making sure his son kept up in his learning. Oftentimes when he’d walk Tim back to their apartment after his schooling sessions with Lucy were over, Tim would babble excitedly about whatever it was that they learned that day, and he could thank Lucy kindly for her efforts. Tim had never loved school before.</p><p>Lucy nodded and took a sip of the drink John offered her, her eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. </p><p>“Okay,” Xander began again, “Now, from the sounds of it, the attacks on Lucy were similar to the attacks on all of you, correct?” </p><p>Xander turned to Tom, Lex, and Paul, who merely glanced at one another and nodded. Although all of the attacks had been in different places, different times, and on different victims, they all remembered what it was like for Ted to attack them. A chill seemed to settle over the room as they considered this. Tom remembered how cold he’d felt, the burning chill as if his spine was being set aflame with frost, which made no sense, he knew, but it was all he could think of to describe the scenario. Not to mention the fear. </p><p>When he’d been attacked, he’d been filled with so much fear that he’d failed his son. That he’d never be able to prove to Tim that he was the kind of man worthy to have his son look up at him. He wanted to prove to Tim how much he loved him, to prove to Tim that they were all going to be put back together again after losing Jane. And he almost had. All of that could have ended if Ted had killed him, but he hadn’t. </p><p>“Okay…” John sighed, “Now that we’ve established that all of your experiences were relatively similar, what could we do to establish connections between the victims.”</p><p>Ethan sighed, “Didn’t we do that last time?”</p><p>“We did.” John nodded, “But I think it would be best if we at the very least tried to make sense of some of these victim connections again...try and see why Ted might have targeted them specifically.”</p><p>“Why does that matter, though?” Lex asked, looking up, “We’re all fine, so far. Minus Mr. Woodward’s blindness and the attacker’s comatose state, I’d say we’re all fine, right?” </p><p>“Right,” Xander nodded, “After a look at all of your recent medical reports, Dr. McMurray and I do share the conjecture that they’re all in perfect health.”</p><p>“That may be,” John sighed, “But it would be a great help to us to at the very least look at the connections again...try and understand what the Goat’s motive is….and then Emma can-”</p><p> </p><p>“T’Noy Karaxis.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom turned around to see Tim and Hannah standing in the media room doorway, Tim looking at Hannah with some slight confusion. </p><p>There was a moment of silence before Lex sat up straighter, leaning forward as she looked at her sister, “What do you mean, Hannah?” </p><p>“His name,” she nodded, “T’Noy Karaxis...Tinky...the Goat.”</p><p>
  <em> T’Noy Karaxis </em>
</p><p>Why did that sound so familiar? </p><p>Where had he heard it before?</p><p>John stood, his brow furrowing “You know The Goat’s name, Hannah?” </p><p>“Didn’t…” Hannah whispered, a haunted look in her eyes, “But now I do...don’t know why...Tinky.”</p><p> Ethan scoffed slightly, “You’d think they’d find a better nickname than-”</p><p>“Bastard of time,” Hannah went on, “The Box is his...torturing Ted with it.”</p><p>Paul paled for a moment, his hand going to Emma’s instantly, “Wha-What do you mean, Han?”</p><p>As Hannah moved into the room, looking like she was thinking exceptionally hard, Tim moved and sat down next to Becky, looking equally confused. There was a long pause before Hannah spoke again, each word seemingly sparking a sense of familiarity within him. </p><p>“Pokotho Apatha…” she whispered, “The Singer….Wiggog Y’wrath...The Creature...Nibb-”</p><p>“Nibblenephim…” he whispered before he even realized the words were coming out of his mouth. </p><p>Hannah’s eyes widened as they met his, locking onto his gaze as she spoke. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Becky pale, looking very uncertain.</p><p>Hannah nodded, “The Smile.”</p><p>Before she could speak again, the name left his lips. </p><p>“Bliklotep,” he whispered.</p><p>Hannah sighed and nodded, “The Watcher.”</p><p>For a moment, they were silent. He and Hannah just stared at one another. How had he known those names? Where had that come from? He certainly was no expert when it came to the mystical aspect of this whole case, and yet, he’d known. How had that happened?</p><p>It was Ethan who broke the silence. </p><p>“Um...what the fuck?” he whispered, “What...what the hell was that?”</p><p>John straightened, snapping Tom out of his haze, “Tom...how did you know those names?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he whispered, “I...I don’t know how I knew them...I just did.”</p><p>Hannah seemed to know the answer, as she looked down guiltily, her eyes trained on the hardwood floors of John and Xander’s apartment as she spoke, “Jane.”</p><p>
  <em> Jane? </em>
</p><p>“Jane?” Emma asked, sitting up, her dark eyes wide, “As in...my sister Jane?”</p><p>Hannah nodded sagely, “She’s in his dreams…”</p><p>Becky’s hand went softly to Tom’s as he refused to look at her, “You mean…”</p><p>“The nightmares,” Tim whispered, his own brown eyes wide open, “You’ve been dreaming about Mom…”</p><p>Tom felt like the wind had been knocked out of him at the sound of how small his son’s voice sounded...but the word...the nightmares. </p><p>Oh, God. </p><p>“The tapes,” Hannah whispered, “The names...you know them...because she did...or didn’t.”</p><p>The tapes. The dream. The Jane that wasn’t Jane.</p><p>Flash. </p><p>Bang. </p><p>Hannah shook her head, her eyes growing panicked, “Can’t see them...don’t know what you saw…” Tears filled the little girl’s eyes as she turned to Lex, “Can’t read him either...I can’t-”</p><p>Lex held out her hands for her sister to take, “What do you mean, Banana?” </p><p>“Can’t hear them…” Hannah whispered, her eyes filled with a haunted look which broke Tom’s heart, “Can’t hear his either…”</p><p>Xander leaned forward, a soothing but concerned look in his eyes, “What’s wrong?” </p><p>Hannah looked at Tom, “Bad dreams...right?”</p><p>Without thinking, Tom nodded.</p><p>“What do you mean ‘bad dreams’, Hannah?” John asked, his eyes focused and intense, “What does that have to do with this?” </p><p>“He knew the names…” Hannah whispered, “Before I did...how? What happened to him?” she whipped around and gestured to Paul, Lex, and Lucy, “To all of them?” </p><p>There was a moment of silence before she began to pace around the room in circles, her eyes wide. For a moment, everyone just sat there, looking at her as wheels turned in her head that they didn’t possess. After a while she turned to Tom, looking at him with big pleading eyes. </p><p>“Please tell us about your dream,” she whispered, “You’re good, Tom. Bad dreams. Good Tom.”</p><p>All eyes in the room turned to Tom, who suddenly felt a sense of dread settle over them.</p><p>“Take your time, Tom,” John murmured comfortingly. </p><p>“Time…” Hannah whispered, shaking her head like she was trying to ward off flies or bugs that were circling around her head, “Lord of Time...Lord of Sight...”</p><p>Tom chuckled humorlessly under his breath, shaking his head slightly “It was just a dream.”</p><p>“Not,” Hannah shook her head, “Something else...don’t know...<em> can’t know… </em>”</p><p>“Tom, please…” Xander whispered, “If it helps us…”</p><p>Tom felt a small hand squeeze his own. He turned and found that both Becky and Tim were holding one of his hands. </p><p>“You can do it, Dad,” Tim whispered, offering him a small comforting smile. </p><p>Tom sighed before looking up at the tearful expression worn by Hannah Foster. In the young girl’s eyes, he could see a form of desperation that seemed to cut through his soul. He knew the last thing he wanted was for him to revisit that horrible dream...and all the dreams that had followed, but he knew that Hannah always had a meaning behind something. This had to be something important if it had drawn Hannah’s attention. He might not have understood it...but Hannah did. That was what mattered.</p><p>He inhaled and exhaled sharply before glancing at John, “Hey, could I get a small glass of that good whiskey? I’m gonna need it if we’re really going here.”</p><p>John nodded silently and moved to the small liquor cabinet to make Tom his drink, while Tom leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. </p><p>After a few moments, John passed him the glass and Tom nodded in thanks, taking a sip of it before looking at Emma, “The dream was about...that night.”</p><p>At the words ‘that night’, Emma paled, her eyes widening as he inhaled and began his account of the dream from a few nights before. Everyone in the room seemed to understand his meaning as he sighed, staring down into his glass. </p><p>“It was of...that night,” he began, “But it was different...We were in my Mustang...driving back from my...my parent’s house at Christmas…”</p><p>“But…” Tim began, his voice sounding very small, “Dad, didn’t your parents die when you were younger than me?” </p><p>“As I said,” Tom nodded, “It was different...we were listening to some shitty Christmas music while Tim slept in the back seat...she...Jane...had enough of it, and turned it off. I could tell she was thinking about work. You know…” he looked up at Emma, “She always had this...this face when she was deep in thought, y’know?” </p><p>Emma nodded with a soft chuckle and nodded, but her eyes were filled with a slight sense of dread. He took notice of the way her hand seemed to be gripping Paul’s. </p><p>He sighed and looked down, “I ask her what it is...since I know her face, and she says that she can’t violate patient-doctor confidentiality...that sort of thing...but she dug out a few cassette tapes… you know, she liked recording her sessions so she knew how to best treat people.”</p><p>“What was the tape of, Tom?” Xander asked softly, his dark eyes filled with something that bordered on both amazement and dread. </p><p>“It was some Professor,” Tom shrugged, “He had a mental breakdown or something like that...but then he started talking about how he worked at the Natural History Museum...the one we used to take Tim to all the time...then he starts to talk about the archives...and then he mentions...this…” he trailed off as he remembered the fear in the man’s voice. The dream-tape-recording seemingly replaying in his mind. </p><p>“Mentions what?” Becky whispered lightly, her hand now softly rubbing circles into his back. </p><p>“A…” he began, “A black book...of some sort...he didn’t know what it was...but he told her about it… I wondered if that book was what was bothering her...but then as he started to talk about what he found, I noticed something wrong…”</p><p>“Wrong?” Lucy whispered, raising an eyebrow softly, her green eyes filled with concern, “What do you mean wrong?” </p><p>“Jane,” Hannah whispered, making Tom look up at her and nod. </p><p>“Yeah…” he whispered, “It was Jane...but not my Jane...not the Jane I knew...or anyone for that matter.”</p><p>Emma raised an eyebrow, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” </p><p>Tom sighed and looked down, “Our Jane had brown hair and brown eyes, right?” he glanced up at his sister-in-law, “I didn’t just make that up?” </p><p>Emma nodded, “Yeah...that’s right.”</p><p>“Well,” Tom began, his voice cracking slightly, “<em> This </em>Jane had auburn hair and blue eyes...and as I was noticing this...the guy on the tapes, he said- he was saying the names...he knew the names...and he was spouting off some nonsense like ‘la dee dah dah day’ or something like that...and because I was so freaked out…I didn’t see...I couldn’t...”</p><p>
  <em> Flash. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bang. </em>
</p><p>He shuddered as the memory of the Jane who wasn’t his widening her eyes as he impulsively pulled through that fateful intersection. The sound of the metal screeching and clunking echoed in his ears. His breathing grew ragged the longer he thought about it. </p><p>“I’m sorry…” he breathed, looking down, trying to swallow his guilt and his grief. He couldn’t bear to look at Emma or his son. He couldn’t make eye contact with them and hope that he’d have their forgiveness. Though Jane had been dead for well over a year, he couldn’t forgive himself for that night, whether it was a dream or not. </p><p>A soft hand squeezed his shoulder and he looked up to see Becky, offering him a soft smile. In some ways, he knew that she didn’t judge him for his mistakes. Though she wasn’t directly impacted by Jane’s loss, despite the death of a friend from high school, she offered him some solace from the guilt that preyed on his mind. </p><p>John whistled lowly under his breath before looking at Hannah, “What do you think?” </p><p>Hannah looked at Tom, offering him a slightly comforting smile, her dark eyes not leaving him, “Not just a dream…”</p><p>He looked up at her, “What?” </p><p>“Is a dream…” Hannah whispered, “But not...I don’t understand…why did he attack you? Why you?”</p><p>She turned to Lucy, “Seeing things? Jonathan?” </p><p>Lucy paled, “How-How’d you…” she trailed off as Hannah looked down, “How’d you know about that?” </p><p>“Who’s Jonathan?” Emma asked, looking over at the woman, who suddenly looked very small. </p><p>“He’s-um...he’s my fiance...or he was…” she trailed off, “I don’t know if he’s dead or not, but he...um...I thought I saw him yesterday.”</p><p>“Dead,” Hannah whispered with an affirming nod. </p><p>“Y-Yes,” Lucy nodded, looking down, “But it’s only happened once...I think I’ve just not been sleeping well, you know?”</p><p>Tom remembered how Lucy had looked when he’d gone to pick Tim up from his lessons the other day. For a moment, she looked like she’d been caught in a daze, but now that Tom thought about it, it had almost looked like the woman had seen a ghost. </p><p>“Where are you going with this, Han?” Paul asked, leaning forward, his hands not leaving Emma’s.</p><p>Hannah shook her head, “Don’t know...but I couldn’t hear Lexi, either…”</p><p>Tom turned to Lex, “Have you been having bad dreams too?” </p><p>Lex looked taken aback before sighing, “Really, they’re just weird...I mean...Ethan and I got arrested for some stupid shit because of my mom...but that’s it.”</p><p>“Couldn’t hear her,” Hannah insisted, “Just like I couldn’t hear the two of you...she gestured to Lucy and Tom.</p><p>She turned to Paul, “You too, huh?” </p><p>Paul paled before sighing and nodding, “Yeah...me too, Han.”</p><p>“You’ve been having bad dreams, Paul?” Xander asked. </p><p>“Sporadically,” Paul whispered, “But yeah...and the thing is, they shouldn’t be that scary...but there’s something about them…”</p><p>“Different,” Hannah whispered. </p><p>“Y-Yeah…” Paul murmured, before looking down and going silent. </p><p>Hannah paced around the room again, her eyes searching almost everywhere and nowhere. </p><p>John sighed, “So...everyone’s been having strange dreams...and we now know the names of the Lords in Black?” </p><p>Hannah nodded, “Couldn’t hear them until now...ancient names. Childish nicknames. Webby taught them.”</p><p>Tom raised an eyebrow, “Webby taught them what Hannah?” </p><p>“Her forest,” Hannah whispered, almost as if she didn’t understand the meaning, “She taught Apatha how to sing. Wiggly how to breed chaos. Blinky how to see. Nibbly how to smile. Tinky....” the girl shuddered, “They know how to harm people. Souls at risk…”</p><p>John nodded gravely and leaned forward, “So...Webby is truly the mastermind behind it all, then?” </p><p>Hannah nodded, “Web’insa....that’s her ancient name. Oldest of them...smartest.”</p><p>“And what of this forest?” Becky asked, “Do you mean the Witchwoods?” </p><p>Hannah shrugged, “Don’t know...could be something else...dreams are not dreams...not what it seems.”</p><p>She glanced at Emma, “Jane...daydream...when did you last see her?” </p><p>Emma looked taken aback, “What...what do you mean?” </p><p>“In the daydream,” Hannah whispered, “The pocket...the flowers changed, right?” </p><p>Emma and Paul shared a wistful glance before she turned back to Hannah, “Y-Yes...they were some...weird-looking flower.”</p><p>“Love Lies Bleeding,” Hannah whispered, “Hopeless, but not heartless.”</p><p>Emma’s eyes widened, “Y-yeah...that’s right. That’s exactly what she said.”</p><p>Hannah hummed slightly under her breath, looking at everyone in the group, “Not right.”</p><p>Lex looked at her sister, her green eyes filled with confusion, “Hannah, what do you mean?” </p><p>“Not right,” The girl repeated, “Something isn’t right... I can’t hear it or see it…” her eyes widened suddenly, “<em> She’s blocking me…” </em></p><p>“Who?” Xander asked, his eyes wide, “Who’s blocking you, Hannah?” </p><p>“Webby,” Hannah whispered, going pale, “She doesn’t want me to see...she’s afraid I’ll find out...afraid of finding out her plan…”</p><p>The girl’s hands flew to her head as if she was trying to block out the sound of something she was hearing. With a chill that seemed to settle over the room, everyone realized the girl was crying, her whimpers stifled under her breath. </p><p>“Too much,” she whispered, “Too loud…”</p><p>“Hannah?” Lex asked, quickly scooting over to her sister, “Are you okay?” </p><p>Suddenly, Hannah’s eyes flew open, widening as she stared into nothingness. With a sharp claw at his heart, Tom realized that the girl’s irises had gone completely black. </p><p>“Hannah?!” Tim asked, his voice shaky as tears filled his eyes. He stood up quickly, looking at his friend, “Hannah, what’s wrong?” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> You can run, but are you fast enough?” </em>Hannah whispered rhythmically, her voice suddenly sounding as if it was a combination of several different voices at once. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with her?!” Ethan asked, panic in his eyes rushing over to join Lex at Hannah’s side, “Hannah, snap out of it!”</p><p> </p><p> “<em> You can hide, but I will find you.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Do something!” Lex shouted at John and Xander, who’d jumped to their feet, unsure of what to do. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Close your eyes, if you don’t doze off.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hannah!?” Paul called, looking at the little girl with panic, “Hannah, c’mon!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hold your breath so I don’t hear you.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“What is this?!” Becky shouted, “What’s happening to her?!”</p><p>“We’ve got to help her,” Tom jumped to his feet, unsure of how exactly they could do it. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> The trail of tears that you will leave me…” </em> Hannah whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks as she spoke, “ <em> Will lead me straight to those who fear me.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hannah!” Lex shouted desperately, her hands on her sister’s arms, “C’mon, Hannah girl...c’mon…”</p><p> </p><p><em> “You can run if I don’t catch you,” </em> Hannah whispered, her voice growing shaky, “ <em> But the- </em> NO!”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone jumped at the sudden scream that sounded in Hannah’s own voice. </p><p> </p><p>“NO!” Hannah screamed again, tears dripping down her face, “<em> YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!!!!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> WHOOSH!! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, before anybody could consider the meaning behind the words, a burst of powerful wind, almost as if a twister itself had started in the apartment sent everybody falling back with a chorus of surprised shouts. Tom instinctually reached for Tim and Becky but was unable to find them as Xander’s files burst into a flurry of paper that was sent swirling around the little girl.</p><p>And then it was all silent, save for the ringing in Tom’s ears.</p><p>Tom opened his eyes and found himself lying on the floor of the apartment, the occupants and furniture thrown about. </p><p>It looked as if a mini-bomb had gone off in the apartment. </p><p>“Everyone okay?” John’s rough voice echoed through the room as their lights flickered on and off. A chorus of groans and </p><p>Papers and files were thrown about various places and the furniture was thrown about aimlessly. His eyes instantly searched for Becky and Tim, who he found curled up together in a corner. John and Xander were leaning up against the toppled-over couch, Lucy a few feet away from them, holding her hand to her head. Lex and Ethan were a few feet away from him trying to get to Hannah who was kneeling in the center of the carnage, while Emma and Paul…</p><p>Oh no. </p><p>He could see Paul forcing himself up into a sitting position, Emma lying two feet away from him, her good leg curled in close to her as she held herself in a fetal position. Paul’s eyes widened as they fell on Emma, he scooted closer to her, panic filling his eyes. </p><p>“Emma? Oh, God, Emma!?” he moved over to her, his voice sounding panicked and rapid as he gently, but frantically, tried to help her up, “Emma, sweetheart, <em>look at me!</em>”</p><p>Becky jumped to her feet rushing over as Emma let out a small, pained groan, her eyes scanning over them furiously. </p><p>“I-I can still hear the baby’s heartbeat,” Paul whispered, “But I don’t know what to- What do I...?”</p><p>“There’s no bleeding,” she told Paul, although that information did nothing to calm him as he frantically helped Emma sit up, “Emma, do feel any pain right now?” </p><p>Emma nodded slightly, her eyes cracking open, Tom could see that her teeth were clenched, “Just a little, <em>nhh...</em> it’s not too bad.”</p><p>Becky nodded, before turning to John, “I don’t think she’s miscarrying, but I’d like to get her to the infirmary as soon as possible.” </p><p>John nodded, “Go.” </p><p>Becky tossed a look over at Tom as she helped Paul get Emma up, the both of them supporting her as they hastily made their way out of the apartment. As they left, Tom prayed to whatever God might exist that they wouldn’t take his sister-in-law’s child from them. </p><p>“Dad?” Tim whispered in panic, crawling over to Tom instantly and wrapping his arms around him. </p><p>“Hey, hey, Tim,” Tom whispered, his own voice, “It’s gonna be okay...we’re okay.”</p><p>“What about Aunt Emma?” Tim whimpered, “And Uncle Paul? What about the ba-” </p><p>“They’ll be okay,” Hannah whispered, suddenly drawing everyone’s attention to where she was kneeling, her eyes wide and haunted as she shook, “The baby too.”</p><p>Tom found himself trusting her, despite all of the fear and anxiety that filled his heart at that moment. He held his hand out to Lucy, helping her stand as she did, Tim clinging to his side as he did.</p><p>Xander narrowed his eyes, “Is something burning?”</p><p>John cursed suddenly and ran to the kitchen, presumably turning off the oven, before wearily making his way back, leaning in the kitchen doorway, his eyes filled with some kind of worry.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” he chuckled humorlessly before kneeling to start kicking away the mess of papers and files that littered the floor, “Dinner’s saved.”</p><p>Nobody laughed as they all started to help one another up, making sure nobody was wounded.</p><p>“What the hell was that?” Lex whispered, her eyes wide as she crawled towards her sister, “Hannah are you alright?” </p><p>Hannah shook her head, tears pouring from her eyes, “W-Webby…”</p><p>Anger filled Tom’s gut as Lex placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. </p><p>“Webby did this?” Xander breathed, sounding like he was shocked beyond disbelief.</p><p>Hannah nodded, “Talking to me...talking to you...through me…”</p><p>Hannah let out a small sob before looking down, crawling into Lex’s open arms as she cried. </p><p>John, Xander, and Tom all shared a look of horror as Hannah whispered another set of words that sent a chill over the room again. Making all of them feel far more terrified than before. </p><p>Perhaps he should have listened to his gut before the meeting started.</p><p>“Warning.” </p><p>---</p><p>Webby smiled in satisfaction as she watched her warning leave its scars.</p><p>All she wanted was to frighten them...and it seemed that it had done just that.</p><p>The seer was so close...she could almost taste it. </p><p>If the seer had gotten too close, then she could have solved the puzzle her peers had spent the past two months grappling at aimlessly. </p><p>Then the seer would know everything. </p><p>And Webby couldn’t have that. </p><p>The warning and the burst of energy that she’d sent had done enough to scare the group out of its wits, even threatening to take the unborn child away from them. </p><p>The child wouldn’t die, of course… its blood was too strong for that. </p><p>No...this next stage of the plan would be handled delicately...and swiftly. </p><p>By the end of the next week, the next phase of the plan would have started…</p><p>And she could only smile at how delectable her plan was, to begin with. </p><p>Blocking the seer hadn’t been an easy task, of course, not when the girl’s power was so strong. </p><p>Even blocking the seer from seeing what her own sister had seen was difficult. </p><p>Still, their futile attempts to gain some semblance of understanding had failed, and they were left with only the babblings of a child. </p><p>The most powerful child in the world. </p><p>She would have made a good and powerful ally. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!!!!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Still, the girl had made her choice...and Webby had made hers. </p><p>There was no way to turn back. </p><p>Hannah Foster was an enemy. </p><p>And if she had to die for Webby’s plan to succeed, then so be it. </p><p>After all, war was an art, and she was a master. </p><p>Anybody who’d mastered war knew that there was no such thing as entirely black and white. </p><p>Ironic, wasn’t it?</p><p>That sides supposedly differed on the matters of good and evil, when in reality, there was no absence of variation when it came to morality. </p><p>She prided herself on being knowledgeable of that fact. </p><p>She turned to her siblings, all of whom seemed so insistent to get the next stage of the plan to begin, as soon as they could. </p><p>They’d waited long enough, she knew, even if this stage of the plan would occur, and then result in another few months of waiting and preparing.</p><p>She glanced out at the world they’d claimed for their own, and whispered, her words bringing smiles to all of their faces. </p><p>“And so it begins.”</p><p>And she was unable to keep her own smile at bay.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well then...that was a lot.</p><p>First and foremost, I'm going to take this time to reassert the fact that Paul and Emma are in love.<br/>Thank you. </p><p>So...what we expected was them making sense of what facts they already had...what we got was them making connections where they didn't know there'd be any...</p><p>Also, DON'T KILL ME THE PAULKINS BABY IS OKAY </p><p>Protect Hannah Foster 2021<br/>(Also, protect all of them honestly 2021)</p><p>Webby is a duplicitous bitch.</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!! I really appreciate your feedback!! I am also still taking asks pm my tumblr (which is included below), so if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask. </p><p>We've got a whole lot of snow where I live, so I've had a whole lot of free time to crank these chapters out. I really hope you are all staying safe and warm during this unexpected weather! Please be safe and help others where you can! It's in times like these when community really matters.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Once again, I'm sorry for the really long chapters, but we're getting to one of my favorite arcs that I planned for this fic (which is over the word count of OTOLI, btw).<br/>I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!</p><p>Once again, please stay safe, warm, and healthy!!!<br/>Thank you so much!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Carried with the Madness and Scars: Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I can't think of a summary for this one other than...</p>
<p>Part One of 'Welcome Back to Shit Hitting the Fan'</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter is going to match the next one because it is going to be a two-part chapter, which I might have the other half posted later today or earlier tomorrow, and comes from the song "Dark Matter" by Les Friction.</p>
<p>Originally, this was supposed to be one big chapter, but because I have the tendency to describe a whole lot of stuff, it ended up being longer than planned.</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Blood, medical stuff, infections, Ted is an overtly sexual asshole, Cyclops bitch, goat bastard, Spider bitch.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p>
<p>Date: April 25th, 2019</p>
<p>End Days</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> His heart stopped again as he found himself bleeding out in that alleyway, the chill of the pavement contrasting greatly with the blood that seeped from his body. He watched as Paul and Emma...both of them false versions of themselves... walk away, leaving him for dead. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He’d relived the past fifteen years of his life so many times, but he knew he was reliving it...he knew the Master would make him see these days over and over again...until the reckoning came. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How many times had he taken his last breath?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How many times had he watched as Jenny had taken hers? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How many times had he made the same mistake, unable to change it no matter how hard he tried? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> This cruel trick of the Master’s brought him nothing but pain and fear.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That was the aim, he knew.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As he felt himself take his last breath, he could still hear people from the world above working around him, taking note of what little progress he’d made as the Master had abandoned him within his own mind, the laughter of the Master playing on repeat in the back of his mind.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How long would it be before the Master was satisfied?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How long before the Master’s voracious and terrifying appetite was subdued?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He inhaled and exhaled again.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And then it began. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Unlike every other time he’d had to restart the whole process of dying, he felt a jolt of something he couldn’t identify run through his body.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “He’s crashing!” someone from the world above was shouting.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ah...yes </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Death.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe this time he’d be granted the blessing and release of it.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe the Master had taken pity on him.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe the Master would let him go. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> But...he didn’t want to die? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He was a coward, that much he knew.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He feared death immensely...how could anyone not? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> But he couldn't find the strength to plead for mercy. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He couldn't find the strength to hope that fate would be kind to him and allow him to breathe for just a little longer. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He found himself completely swallowed in darkness, all sights of his permanent fate fading away. The sounds of the world above were nothing to him as he waited...and waited… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Waiting for him to die. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>OH, YoU’Re NoT DeAD yET, TedDY BeAr</em> </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Like always, the horrible voice of the Master struck fear through his veins. He felt like he was being torn apart over and over again.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He could hear the shouts of the medical staff trying to bring him back to life, but it was nothing in comparison to the sheer power of the Master’s laughter.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>DId YoU ReALLy ThINk I’d MaKE iT ThAT EaSy?</em> </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Clear!” he heard someone in the world above shout.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>I’m NOt DoNE wITh YoU yeT!</em> </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “We’ve got a pulse.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>We’Re NoT DoNE wItH yOU YeT!</em> </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> If his body were his own, he would have pleaded with the Master for mercy. He would have wished for some form of ownership over himself.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Then again...he’d never really had that. Had he? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The darkness around him began to recede as the Master’s laughter thundered in his ears. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As the darkness began to crumble, he found himself surrounded by light. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His heart pounded in his chest as the sounds of the world above faded.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He couldn’t even find it in himself to scream as the world around him faded.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The voices.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The names.  </em>
</p>
<p>His name. </p>
<p>
  <em> It was gone.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The darkness was swallowed in a wave of light...and suddenly, everything was… </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Gone. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Ted sighed as he put his car in park, lifting his sunglasses to see his destination.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The natural history museum was framed nicely by the auburn colors of the autumn leaves. With its distinct architecture and the crystalline dome structure marking the atrium, Ted found himself squinting as he stared up at it, not entirely recovered from the drinks he’d had the night before. The entryway to the museum was decorated with lovely flowers he’d never be able to recognize. Much to his relief, there was nobody at the door checking for invitations, since he didn’t have one, it would make his pursuit of free drinks and a pity hookup all the easier.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Leave it to Paul and Ella not to invite him.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Paul was his best friend!  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Why wouldn’t he invite Ted to the best pickup destination as a favor?  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He sighed and straightened his clip-on tie as he made his way up the stairs.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Of course, a geek like Paul would be getting married at the natural history museum.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As he made his way up the stairs, he took note of the sporadic amount of people filing into the museum, carrying wedding gifts with them as they did. Should he have brought a gift? Whatever... he could probably give Paul a gift card or a box of condoms when he got back from the honeymoon. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He pulled open the big doors and was met by the sight of the open foyer and atrium of the massive Natural History museum. The fact that Paul and Erica had even managed to book this place had been something of a mystery to him. Maybe Emily’s brother helped out, or Bill, or even Hidge (the only person Ted had found worthy of talking to at the bar, other than anybody who was mildly attractive and just as horny as him). Whatever the case, Ted knew that he didn’t want to miss this event.  </em>
</p>
<p><em> Bright sunlight filtered through the dome-structure of the atrium, casting light and color around the wide-open space. The marble pillars of the front foyer gave the room the impression of being a great deal larger than it really was, and were decked with the signature ivy and flora which gave the museum an almost whimsical look that Ted was certain Elisa (fuck it, he couldn’t remember her name) loved. The elegant tile made the room look warmer as he took in the sight of the several rows of chairs leading up an aisle, already decked with flowers. It was clear that the color scheme they’d decided on was a dark blue of sorts with a sage green, which made the room look both dark and light at the same time. He tried not to gag as he passed a small table near the door, which was decorated with flowers in shades of dark blue and cream with greenery strewn delicately about, drawing attention to pictures of Paul and Emma (?). In every single one of the photographs they were smiling and happy, Paul looking like he’d actually learned to have fun in his boring mayonnaise life. The pictures were arranged on a lovely collection of what looked like birch stumps at varying heights, each one containing a single word that spelled out “Paul and Emma, Forever and Always- 2019” (Oh, so her name </em> was <em> Emma). </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “Fuckin’ sap,” Ted shook his head, taking only a second to glance back at the smiling faces of Paul and Emma, before turning his attention to the setting. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The room was already relatively full, with several guests who looked far better dressed than he. With a smirk, he recognized Hidgens standing at the end of the aisle, straightening a collar that made him look like he was a man of the cloth rather than a man of science. He seemed to be taking his position very seriously as he spoke in hushed words with… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Bill?!” he called out with a smirk, looking at the well-dressed man in the lovely navy blue tuxedo, his tie a shade of gold. The man turned from his conversation with Hidgens, his eyes widening as they fell on Ted. Quickly, he excused himself from his conversation with Hidgens and moved towards him, suddenly looking like he was five seconds from having a heart attack.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As he approached Ted, he glared at him, “What are you doing here?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ted shrugged and held his arms out, “I’m here to see Paul and Emma get hitched, what’s it look like I’m doing?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re not supposed to be here,” Bill hissed, his eyes darting around as if he were trying to avoid making a scene.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “What are you gonna do, Woodward?” He challenged, “Kick me out?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Is there a problem here, Bill?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They turned around to see a tall, burly man with curly russet hair. Ted recognized him as Emma’s brother (or was he her brother-in-law? Honestly, Ted didn’t care) from some of the pictures of Emma’s family that Paul was showing around work. The man was dressed nicely, wearing a suit, but with a weird choice in a dress shirt, seeing as how it was a completely buttoned-up flannel, which only accentuated the man’s appearance, making him look like he belonged on a paper-towel brand wrapping.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Bill eyed Ted, who only gave him a smirk.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “No…” Bill sighed, “No, Tom...everything’s fine.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You sure?” the man- Tom, apparently- raised an eyebrow.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Bill nodded, shooting a warning look at Ted from the corner of his eye, “Is everyone ready?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Tom nodded, “Paul texted and said he was ready...I called Emma, and she’s ready too...if everyone’s here, we can get started.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Great,” Bill nodded, “Thanks, Tom.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> With one final quizzical look at Ted, Tom nodded and headed to his seat, sitting in the front row, next to a few seats marked with a sign that read ‘reserved’. Also in that row, he could see Sylvia from the top floor, and Alice sitting there, both of them looking very nice.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Please,” Bill whispered as everyone started to settle down, “Just please don’t make a scene...and maybe...sit in the back. Don’t mess this up for Paul.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ted sighed, “Don’t worry Woodward, it would be no fun to fuck up the noodle’s wedding anyway.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Sure,” Bill sighed, “Just...go sit down...please.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> With that, Bill walked away, moving to a side door where Ted assumed some people were waiting to get the whole shindig started.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> With a sigh, Ted moved to one of the back rows. Not the actual back row, of course, just to piss Bill off, but the row right before it. It wasn’t that the room itself was packed. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, collectively, Paul and Emma had barely any friends.  He did see that one hot barista from Beanies, dressed nicely in a sage green dress, her dark hair done up in a neatly braided updo as she sat a few chairs away from Charlotte and her asshole husband. Although it did shock Ted that the redhead man who wore a trench coat no matter what the weather outside was like had been invited (did the man even have a name? All Ted thought of him was that he always seemed to be in a hurry). Besides, Paul and Emma didn’t have many family members, besides the maybe-brother-in-law.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He sat back in the chair, already bored, despite the soft instrumental piano music that was playing from somewhere Ted couldn’t see, he already found himself counting down the minutes till the reception.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Suddenly, the music changed, and everyone turned their attention to the front of the room where Paul was walking out, dressed very nicely in a manner that was somewhat similar to Bill’s, only he was wearing a floral boutonniere made of yellow and dark blue flowers with sage green leaves surrounding it. Vaguely, Ted recalled Paul bragging and blushing about how Emma was going to do their floral arrangements, somehow the knowledge of that only made their relationship all the more disgusting to Ted.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As Paul stood there, exchanging hushed words with Hidgens, he surveyed the room. Ted waved, and for a moment...only a moment...Paul’s expression wavered. Much to Ted’s dismay, however, Paul kept smiling. He supposed that was how it was supposed to be on one’s wedding day. Ted had been to his fair share of weddings where the groom was always smiling like an idiot, and Paul seemed to give that new meaning.  </em>
</p>
<p><em> The music changed and everyone froze, all attention going to the doors from which Ted had entered. Ted himself looked around and turned just in time to see Bill entering, clearly the only choice for Paul’s best man, as he’d overheard them discussing how the wedding party itself was supposed to be small. He sighed slightly in relief as he realized that this meant the ceremony would begin without the unnecessary processions that would only hinder the reception and his eventual hookup (he’d specifically worn his best cologne for this occasion and he was </em> NOT <em> about to let it go to waste). </em></p>
<p>
  <em>Following Bill, there was a little boy, about nine or ten, dressed in a navy suit with a green tie. He was grinning wildly as he walked down the aisle, holding a pillow with both rings, as well as a basket filled with blue and cream flower petals and dried green leaves. The boy, who strangely resembled Emma’s maybe-brother, looked very focused as he threw the petals and leaves about, decking the aisle with them. When he reached the end of the aisle, Paul held up his hand and high-fived the boy, smiling as he retreated to sit beside Emma’s lumberjack relative.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Hidgens stepped forward as the audience waited with bated breath. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Please stand for the bride,” he directed them, gesturing to the doors.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Almost in tandem, everyone stood, turning to the doors as a soft piano began to play again, something that wasn’t quite the bridal march signaling that the other half of their reason for being there had arrived.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Once everyone turned to the doors, two employees of the museum pulled the doors open, revealing Emma. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>  As she strode forward, holding a bouquet of dark blue and cream-colored flowers, decked with lovely sage greenery, the whole room seemed to hold its breath, staring in awe at Paul’s blushing bride to be (God, he’d never thought Emma was capable of blushing as much as she was).  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Her dress was absolutely stunning, made of wispy cream fabric. He didn’t know what kind of fabric it was (wait...did the dress have pockets?), but it made Emma look almost as if she was floating as she gracefully made her way down the aisle.  The bodice was lovely, with flowy sleeves and an illusion neckline that revealed embroidered flowers, which looked like they were almost painted onto her skin and arms through the gauzy material. Though most of the embroidery was white, Ted could make out the same flowers near the hem of the dress. Her dark hair was braided into an intricate hairstyle with the same dark blue flowers and baby’s breath from what he could tell. Regardless, she looked almost unearthly, and was smiling...which was something Ted hadn't thought the woman capable of.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As Ted watched her make her way down the aisle, her skirt sweeping up some of the petals her presumable nephew left behind, he could only wonder how the hell Paul of all people had gotten a woman like her to marry him. God, the man was as boring as vanilla ice cream and was as awkward as a baby giraffe taking its first steps. How he’d managed to get Emma (who was probably a seven on a scale from one to ten, in his opinion, where Ted would have put Paul at… point six) to marry him...or even date him...hell, even sleep with him...Ted would never know. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ted cast a glance over his shoulder as Emma continued down the aisle, looking at Paul. The man was smiling so wide, wiping at his eyes as they continued to fill with tears. He looked like he couldn’t breathe as his eyes were trained on Emma and Emma alone.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As Emma made it to Paul, she handed her bouquet to the flower boy/ring bearer and took Paul’s hands, both of them smiling like complete and total idiots.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ted scoffed as Hidgens spoke.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You may be seated,” Hidgens held a bible out in front of him, making Ted have to stifle another, much louder, scoff, “To use a phrase of my own...as Paul himself may hate…” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ted sighed, already bored with the ceremony itself.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “It’s showtime!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p>
<p>Reset No. 6</p>
<p>Date: April 26th, 2019</p>
<p>End Days</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why wasn’t I alerted about this sooner?” Xander fumed as he and John made their way down the hallway, Phillipa leading them through the infirmary.</p>
<p>“I was just alerted,” Phillipa said calmly, straightening her lab coat, “Kam said she was gonna be working late...she planned on taking another spinal tap with Spankoffski. She said it happened at the turn of midnight...just came out of nowhere.”</p>
<p>“Christ,” Xander sighed.</p>
<p>It was 12:15 AM and he and John had been roused from their bed less than ten minutes before. The alert had come from Kamaria, saying that there had been an immense change in  Ted’s condition. </p>
<p>“He crashed?” John questioned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Phillipa nodded, “But we got him back...so whatever it was that bothered Kam…”</p>
<p>“<em>It c</em> <em> an’t be good, Dr. Kirk </em> ,” a familiar voice called from down the hallway, making Xander freeze and nearly roll his eyes, “ <em> That’s for sure! </em>”</p>
<p>They all turned to see Henry Hidgens running after them down the hallway, nearly slamming into several medical personnel and looking more majestic than any of them would ever look in their lives. </p>
<p>When he reached them, John sighed, “Don’t you ever sleep?”</p>
<p>“That’s irrelevant,” Hidgens responded, “What matters is the fact that we’re now on the precipice of the next stage of Webby’s plan.” </p>
<p>“Precipice?” Xander asked, “Wait...how’d you even know we were down here?” </p>
<p>“Your transponder frequencies were really easy to hack,” Hidgens deadpanned, “But that’s beside the point...we need to get to Mr. Spankoffski immediately.”</p>
<p>Phillipa sighed, starting to lead them through the infirmary again, “What do you think we’re trying to do?”</p>
<p>“I’m only trying to offer my assistance, Doctor,” Hidgens spoke calmly as he kept up with them.</p>
<p>“How’d you make it out of the brig?” John asked, not even bothering to stop the man and looking more annoyed than he did concerned. </p>
<p>“Again, that’s irrelevant,” Hidgens sighed, “But you will want my eyes on Spankoffski if it’s truly as serious as all that.”</p>
<p>“It is,” a new voice spoke. </p>
<p>They all looked up and saw Kamaria Abadi, looking exhausted as she stood outside of one of the intensive care unit rooms, the door sealed with a keycard lock, despite there being several windows that allowed them to peer into the room. </p>
<p>“Kam,” Phillipa kissed her wife on the cheek as they arrived at their destination, “What happened?” </p>
<p>Kamaria sighed, her eyes filled with uncertainty- an emotion that Xander had never once seen on her face, “He just...crashed...but his brain activity...and his heart! Phil, I have no idea what to make of it.”</p>
<p>Hidgens moved to look through the windows, his eyes going wide as they landed on something, in particular, muttering an overdramatic “My God…” under his breath as he did.</p>
<p>John and Xander joined the old man at the door, peering into the room as he did. For a moment, Xander caught his husband’s eyes, recognizing the means by which he was stifling whatever exhaustion and apprehension associated with the situation at hand. It was this ability of his that had made him a good leader. While some people would have expected that he stifled emotions and feelings such as that, he used them. He used emotions such as that to uphold his sense of morality rather than what was most advantageous. This didn’t mean that he went off of his own personal belief system more than what he was ordered to do. Rather, John used his perception and emotion associated as well as the situation at hand to make sound decisions. He could see all of this in his husband’s eyes as they turned and looked into the room.  </p>
<p>Xander had to hold back a curse as his eyes landed on what was inside. </p>
<p>He could see Spankoffski, lying in a bed, his eyes were open, but rolled back, revealing the whites of his eyes. Though he was still decked in the appropriate life support systems, Xander could see that his skin looked exceptionally pale. </p>
<p>“Good lord,” John whispered, “Kamaria, do you know what this is?” </p>
<p>“If I did, do you think I would have called you?” she sighed, “He crashed, we resuscitated him...the next thing we know, he’s in v-tach and his brain activity is off the charts.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Xander raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off of the man as he spoke, watching the medical staff work around the man. </p>
<p>“With activity such as this,” Kamaria began, “We should have seen him wake up. But he didn’t. We didn’t even get any response out of him before his eyes rolled back.”</p>
<p>“Has he seized?” Hidgens asked. </p>
<p>“No,” Kamaria spoke clearly, “He hasn’t...but I wouldn’t be surprised if it got to that.”</p>
<p>For a moment, they all just sat there in silence, all of them looking at the man in amazement.</p>
<p>“Two months,” Xander whispered, “Two months and there’s been next to nothing. It looked like just a plain coma, right?” </p>
<p>Kamaria nodded, “His brain activity was so low, we thought he might never wake up again...but then this…”</p>
<p>Xander couldn’t understand this. First, there was that warning from Hannah when Webby had briefly done something to her at their meeting and now a man who’d done nothing but lay unresponsive in a hospital bed was showing brain activity that their head paraneurologist couldn’t understand? What the hell was happening?</p>
<p>He glanced at John, unsure of what to think. Since the meeting the week before, they’d done their best to make sense of the oddly lyrical poem that Hannah had spouted off. All that they’d been able to find from the best of their memory was that it was a song of sorts, and whatever it had meant, Webby was certainly not going to stop in her effort to root them out. </p>
<p>Since that fateful meeting, they’d been put through quite the emotional ringer. </p>
<p>Mercifully, Emma hadn’t miscarried as a result of the fall she experienced after Webby delivered her warning, but it was noted that she was at a heightened risk for placental abruption, and as a result, they were keeping an eye on her activity. Lucy had almost received a concussion as a result of her own fall, but she was still working with the children on base, reporting no more sightings of her frivolous fiance, Jonathan Brisby, another name that had been on the missing person list for far too long. Lex and Ethan were both okay, but Hannah had remained widely nonverbal since the meeting, not talking when she was in the presence of most people. While they were mostly physically unharmed, the mystery still remained predominantly unsolved, and much like the previous two months, everything was quiet. </p>
<p>Until now. </p>
<p>It was Hidgens who broke the silence. </p>
<p>“May I take a look at him?” he asked, turning to Dr. Abadi. </p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow and turned to John, “Is he even authorized to be down here?” </p>
<p>“No,” John deadpanned, “But if he can shed any light on this case…”</p>
<p>“I have a hypothesis,” Hidgens whispered dramatically, “But I’m praying to whatever God that might exist that I’m wrong...but if I’m right.”</p>
<p>“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Phillipa sighed, sliding her keycard through the scanner, “Please shut up and just do your thing.”</p>
<p>The door slid open and Hidgens nodded at Phillipa in thanks, stepping into the room and walking towards Ted with much gusto. </p>
<p>John and Xander shared a look of ‘what the hell just happened?’ before following him into the room, being hit with the scent of saline and antiseptic. </p>
<p>Hidgens walked cautiously around the man, who remained frozen, the whites of his eyes looking like he’d been possessed by a demon of sorts. Xander could only watch as the old man shuffled around him, muttering hushed words under his breath, almost getting uncomfortably close to the man as he inspected him. </p>
<p>“Professor?” Kamaria asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you looking for?” </p>
<p>The Professor didn’t answer as he knelt down, getting eye-level with the man’s stagnant body. </p>
<p>“Professor…” Phillipa asked, her hazel eyes tracing over the man who was hard at work, “What the hell are you doing?” </p>
<p>“Turn him over on his stomach,” The Professor spoke quickly, shocking everyone with the abruptness of his voice. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry?” Kamaria asked, standing a little taller.</p>
<p>“If you can’t do that, just lift up his torso,” Hidgens said, still examining the man intently, “I need to check for something.” </p>
<p>“Exactly what are you looking for?” Xander asked, stepping forward. </p>
<p>“Something that will either make our jobs easier or all the worse,” Hidgens spoke. </p>
<p>“Please,” John groaned, “Give us a straight answer. What are you looking for?” </p>
<p>Hidgens stood, “General, you don’t trust me...I know...but I’m not going to give you something more to worry about in the event my suspicions are worse...so please do what I ask.”</p>
<p>Not liking the answer, Xander turned uneasily to John. </p>
<p>They both didn’t trust him, he knew. But for whatever reason, he knew that they both understood that desperate times called for desperate measures. If ever there was a time for the man to prove that he was on their side, this was it. </p>
<p>John nodded at two of the orderlies who stood aside, unsure of who to answer to. At his urging, they moved forward and gently lifted Ted’s stiff boy upward, almost in a sitting position. Hidgens maneuvered himself around them and glanced at Ted’s neck, his eyes quickly growing grave. </p>
<p>“Good God…” he whispered, “It’s even worse than I theorized.”</p>
<p>Hastily, Xander moved over to where the Professor was standing and peered down at the skin of the man’s neck as Hidgens held some of Ted’s overgrown hair away. </p>
<p>“What the hell is that?” he whispered, suddenly feeling a terrible sense of dread overtake him.</p>
<p>At the base of the man’s skull, there was a definite signal of swelling, the red skin puffy and contrasting with the overall pallor of Ted’s skin. Against the swollen red of his skin, Xander could make out a white dot, which marked the center of some sort of infection, looking black and spreading only slightly around the man’s neck. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Xander realized it looked exactly like a spider web.</p>
<p>He turned to Hidgens as the man signaled for the orderlies to lower him, “What is it? What’s happening to him?” </p>
<p>“The same thing that I fear is happening to some of the most valuable people to us,” Hidgens spoke, “You need to get into contact with Miss Lucy Stockworth, Mr. Bill Woodward, Captain Houston, Miss Lex Foster, and Paul.”</p>
<p>“Why?” Xander demanded, “Nothing you’re saying is making any…”</p>
<p>
  <em> Sense… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> None of what had happened made sense… </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The February seventh attacks.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The victims were seemingly fine.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Unless they weren’t. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Oh no. </em>
</p>
<p>He turned to John, “We need to find them. Now.”</p>
<p>“Why?” John asked, “Xander, what’s happening?” </p>
<p>“The attacks,” Xander breathed, “The syringes, whatever it was that he did to himself, its gotta be happening to them...if we hurry we can get them he-”</p>
<p>Suddenly, Ted lurched up, his body spasming suddenly. His head jerking awkwardly as he fell back, blood suddenly pouring intensely from his nose. </p>
<p>One of the nurses sprang into action, quickly wiping up the man’s blood as it poured down his face, soaking into his hospital gown and his mustache. Though he stopped lurching, the blood didn’t stop, almost pooling around his face as he did. </p>
<p>As Kamaria and Phillipa jumped into action cleaning up the blood and making sure that Ted was stabilized, John grew pale, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. He quickly picked up his transponder. </p>
<p>“You get Lucy and Woodward,” John nodded, “I’ll run to get Tom, Lex, and Paul.” </p>
<p>Xander nodded, his heart thundering in his ears. He turned to Hidgens, “You stay with Spankoffski… Once we’ve retrieved them, we need a ward set up for them.” he turned to Phillipa, “Could you get on that?” </p>
<p>Phillipa nodded, “Of course.”</p>
<p>With that, Xander ran for the door, moving as quickly as he could to go find the people he was looking for. </p>
<p>He quickly typed in Lucy’s transponder code running alongside John as they desperately hoped they could get there in time. </p>
<p>“Lucy?” he shouted into his transponder, hoping that she heard wherever she was, he could hear her warning. He knew that it was the unholy hours of the night, but he knew that whatever it was, it couldn’t wait, “Lucy! Respond!”</p>
<p>He cursed under his breath at the sound of static. Woodward, since he was a civilian, only employed by the information department, he didn’t have a transponder, which meant he wouldn’t be able to get in contact with them in time.</p>
<p>He continued to run as he and John parted ways, both of them trying desperately to quickly locate those who were possibly in danger, his mind racing.</p>
<p>He hoped that Hidgens was wrong. </p>
<p>He hoped that they weren’t too late.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>
  <em> BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! </em>
</p>
<p>Lucy sighed as the sound of her alarm woke her. </p>
<p>She couldn’t tell why, but her pajamas were sticking to her like they were wet paper, making her feel like she’d stepped into a sauna in the middle of the summertime. </p>
<p>She fumbled around in the dark, her hands aimlessly searching for her alarm. Her vision was blurred as she rolled over, trying to stop her alarm from making its incessant noise. She cracked open a sleepy eye as she fumbled for the alarm clock, but found that in the blurred darkness that it was barely even five minutes past midnight…</p>
<p>
  <em> What on Earth? </em>
</p>
<p>Then where was the beeping coming from? </p>
<p>
  <em> BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! </em>
</p>
<p>She sighed and pulled herself out of her bed, picking her legs, which suddenly felt like they held the weight of lead with them, her bare feet making contact with the chill of the floor.</p>
<p>God, why was she…</p>
<p>She tasted the blood before she realized it was running down her face. </p>
<p>She cursed lightly under her breath, resolving to find the source of the beeping later. She stumbled to the small chest of clothes that she’d been provided with, knowing that some of the blood was undoubtedly dripping down onto her shirt, pulling free a shirt, before stumbling into the hallway, trying to be quiet as not to wake up what neighbors of hers were sleeping, trying to make her way to the bathroom. </p>
<p>Lord, why did her head hurt so much?</p>
<p>“Lucy?” she turned to see her neighbor, Deb, standing just outside of her own small room, looking groggy, a cigarette in her hand, “You alright?” </p>
<p>Lucy nodded and covered her face slightly, “Yes...just woke up with a nosebleed again…”</p>
<p>Deb raised an eyebrow, “You may need to get that looked at or something.”</p>
<p>Lucy chuckled, “It’s just a nosebleed…” she sighed, “A major annoyance, yes...but I’ll live.”</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Deb nodded, before her expression brightened, “Oh! That reminds me! I was wondering if it would be okay for me and Alice to teach some of your kids some time with art and creative writing?! Alice and I were talking and since we don’t have a lot to do…”</p>
<p>“Of course!” Lucy smiled without hesitation, slightly trying to hurry along the conversation, while also admiring Deb and Alice’s initiative. Had it not been for the blood dripping down her face, she would have loved to stay and listen to the girl’s exploits, especially as to how they’d both expressed an interest in helping Lucy out before, “May we discuss this later, Deb?”</p>
<p>Deb’s eyes widened, “Oh yes, of course! Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” Lucy smiled, pinching the bridge of her nose slightly, “I’m glad people like you and Alice have the initiative to help out like this.”</p>
<p>Deb nodded, “That means a lot, thank you...do you need any help?” </p>
<p>“No, I’ll manage,” Lucy smiled, turning around, “But thank you! I’ll be sure to meet with you and Alice to talk about it later, though.” </p>
<p>“Sounds great,” Deb grinned, “Alice is really good with kids...she’d be really excited  to help...but that’s another discussion for another time.”</p>
<p>Lucy nodded, smiling at the teenager, “Goodnight, Deb.”</p>
<p>Snuffing out her cigarette with her feet, Deb smiled, “Night, Lucy.”</p>
<p>Turning quickly, Lucy began to make her way towards the bathrooms again, walking a little bit faster as the blood flow didn’t cease, to the point at which she could taste it in her mouth...almost as if she was breathing the blood. </p>
<p>The bathroom was in sight as she made her way through the hallway, the rows of curtains seeming to go on forever as she moved forward. </p>
<p>Why was it taking so long for her to get to where she needed to be?</p>
<p>Faintly, she heard someone saying her name. As if it was coming through her transponder, which she’d left back in her room...why...what…</p>
<p>Why did the world seem like it was spinning?</p>
<p>What was happening?</p>
<p>“Lucy?!” she could hear Deb shouting, but it sounded like she was miles away.</p>
<p>Before she realized what was happening, she felt herself falling, almost as if her insides were floating and tumbling, as she herself began to plummet through empty space.</p>
<p>She was falling.</p>
<p>Falling. </p>
<p>Falling. </p>
<p>Fallen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> “Miss Lucy?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She snapped out of her daze and looked up to see Rupert standing in front of her, smiling softly and respectfully as per usual, his brown hair, greying at the temples combed back neatly.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She was standing under a large black umbrella, the light rain and the overcast sky of Hatchetfield matching her mood with her sendoff. This, the last time she might lay her eyes on the small town of Hatchetfield. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hmm?” she hummed, “Oh...yes, Rupert?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Any luck this year, Miss Lucy?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She shook her head as she looked up at the large private jet before her, preparing to whisk her back home to England, back to a life lacking the excitement and joy she truly desired. The loud beep of the private jet as it moved backward, almost in position to receive her and take off ceased, signaling to her that her journey was at its miserable end. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Another year.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Another failure. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She knew it was silly, having held this dream for as long as she did,  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Not this year, Rupert,” she sighed, shrugging her shoulders as she pulled her lavender raincoat around her shoulders.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Shame,” Rupert sighed in his usual sense of propriety. It was in moments such as this that she found him comparable to Sir Michael Caine, “A dreadful shame.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I suppose, there’s always next year,” she offered Rupert a hopeful, albeit disappointed smile, before glancing down at her gloved hand, a small ridge in the material concealing the engagement ring she was wearing, “If...other things don’t get in the way.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> God, she’d been so certain of this year. She’d been so sure that she’d find him just before she was called back to marry Jonathan. She’d been so sure that she’d even agreed to do that interview with that nice lady from the local news station, a Miss Donna Daggit, who’d been polite, but Lucy could see how the woman judged her. Lord, as if she already wasn’t the laughingstock of the aristocracy back home, she didn’t want to be that here. True, she’d spent several weeks in Hatchetfield since her father’s death, trying to prove to the world that she wasn’t some woman who was surviving off of some childish fantasy… and yet, here she was.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Somehow she found herself wondering if it truly was a childish fantasy. If her vision of the Ape-Man had been some way of her rationalizing a traumatic event, just as every doctor who’d seen her after the incident had insisted. Everyone had told her she’d been running a fool’s errand, even Jonathan (although, that was no surprise, seeing as how he always looked his nose down at her).  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Rupert seemed to notice her distress and tilted his head inquisitively, “Are you alright, Miss Lucy?”  </em>
</p>
<p><em> Fighting back tears, she smiled softly at him, swallowing whatever amount of disappointment she was feeling, “Yes...It’s just the rain...It makes me sad.” Casting another glance at the town she loved so much she whispered softly to herself, “Maybe this </em> is <em> just a childish dream. Goodbye, Hatchetfield...maybe forever.” </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Rupert nodded softly and moved to retrieve Lucy’s bags from the car, when suddenly.  </em>
</p>
<p><em> “You might be done with Hatchetfield, Miss Stockworth,” a crisp and clear voice rang through the air, catching her attention, “But Hatchetfield is </em> not <em> done with </em> you<em>!” </em></p>
<p>
  <em> She turned to see a solitary figure standing a few yards away from her, in the middle of the runway with no umbrella as the rain drizzled down around him. A sudden crack of lightning illuminated his figure and made him more clear to her.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It was a man, possibly in his early sixties, with white hair and piercing eyes. He wore no raincoat as he approached her, his black turtleneck clinging to his body as he strode towards her, despite being slightly wet from the rain, his appearance was unfrazzled and put-together, almost as if he’d been carved from stone.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Excuse me,” She began, unsure of how to perceive this strange man, “Who are you?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He smiled politely, a hint of madness in his eyes. He held up his hands with dramatic gusto as he spoke, almost looking like a trained actor with his poise and appearance.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “My name is Professor Henry Hidgens,” he smiled, “And if you’ll indulge me, and accompany me back to my home and laboratory on the edge of town, I’ll show you something that’ll knock your stockings off!”  </em>
</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Dad?”</p>
<p>Bill was roused from his sleep at the sound of Alice’s voice. Though he was met by darkness, he could hear Alice’s voice clearly enough, as well as the creak of his bedroom door in order to know that she was there, and judging from the urgency in his voice, something was wrong. He threw back his bedcovers and searched with his hands for his cane. His head throbbed slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Alice sounded distressed.</p>
<p>“What?” he asked, standing once his hands had found his cane, “What is it, sweetie?”</p>
<p>He took a few steps forward when Alice’s soft hands found his own. Her hands were cold in his, and she was shaking.</p>
<p>“It’s Major Lee,” she whispered, “He’s here to see you... h-he said it couldn’t wait.”</p>
<p>He picked out the fear in Alice’s voice like he used to be able to pick out a red sock among white sheets. </p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Are you crying?” </p>
<p>“No…” Alice whispered, squeezing his hands, her voice shaky, “He just said it could be life or death...and I…”</p>
<p>He pressed a kiss to his daughter’s temple, knowing her height in comparison to his by heart now, “I’m sure everything’s okay, sweetie. We just need to see what he needs.”</p>
<p>Alice helped him out into what Bill knew to be the living room, judging from the scent of the leather, mixed with those citrus and melon wax cubes that Deb had gotten for Alice a few weeks before. He could tell that someone else was in the room...probably Major Lee as Alice had said...but judging from the pacing of his footsteps, his reasoning for waking them up in what Bill could only assume was the middle of the night.</p>
<p>“Mr. Woodward?” he recognized the sound of Major Lee’s voice, the official, yet somehow friendly tone sounding more worried and relieved than normal. </p>
<p>“Major Lee?” he asked, “What is this? It must be really early for you to be…”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for the earliness of the hour, sir,” Major Lee spoke officially, “But it’s imperative that I get you to the infirmary immediately.”</p>
<p>“What?!” Alice’s voice was panicked, “Why?! What’s going on?”</p>
<p> “Miss Woodward, I’ll explain everything as soon as I get you there,” Major Lee sounded almost...apologetic in the way he spoke to Alice, “But it has to do with the February Seventh attacks.” </p>
<p>“What?” Alice sounded panicked, her voice rising in octaves, “But they’re fine! They’re all fine! I saw Lucy today! And Uncle Paul! They’re all fine!”</p>
<p>“I know, ma’am,” Major Lee whispered, “But right now it looks like it might not be that way.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Bill was unable to comprehend the shakiness of his own voice as he spoke, “What happened?” </p>
<p>“As I said,” Major Lee continued, his voice urgent, “I’ll explain to you as soon as we get to the infirmary, but we need to go <em> now </em>.”</p>
<p>A chill ran over Bill’s spine as he pictured Ted’s face...the absence of his former coworker in eyes that had been painted blue and yellow….the last thing he’d seen in forever. He hated that <em> that </em> was the last thing he’d seen. He’d much rather have seen Alice’s face...or hell, even the sonogram of Paul and Emma’s soon-to-be-baby. </p>
<p>And then, it was almost as if he was reliving that fear all over again. </p>
<p>Why was this happening to him? </p>
<p>He’d done nothing wrong, had he?</p>
<p>The voice...from that dream. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>It’s time, Billy-boy!</em> </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As if he’d spoken of the devil, the voice had suddenly appeared in his head. He fell to his knees with a terrified shriek as his ears suddenly seemed to ring. Something warm and tasting of iron seemed to drip down his face as he did. </p>
<p>“Dad?!” Alice’s voice was panicked and tearful...but it seemed to echo, almost as if she were standing on the other end of a tunnel, the message taking its time to reach him.</p>
<p>“Mr. Woodward?” the Major’s voice sounded concerned. Like Alice’s voice. It was echoing.</p>
<p>“Dad!” Alice shouted, her voice filled with tears, “Dad!? <em> What’s wrong with him </em>?”</p>
<p>“Shit,” Major Lee cursed before muttering some more words to a crying Alice that Bill couldn’t hear. </p>
<p>He could hear nothing as his insides were turned inside out. </p>
<p>And he felt like he was falling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He sighed and inhaled sharply at the sensation of his old AMC pacer’s transmission backfiring again as the old car puttered through the winding roads of the Witchwood. A soft song was playing over the old radio, allowing Bill to drum out the rhythm badly as he hummed along with it.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It was around ten in the morning, but the Witchwood always seemed a great deal darker than what he was used to, making it almost difficult for him to see the roads ahead. He heard a heavy sigh from beside him and turned to see Alice sitting there, staring at her phone as she slouched in her seat.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He was very excited that he’d remembered Watcher World. He couldn’t exactly remember if he’d ever been there, but he did know that Alice would love it, and therefore, taking her to the old amusement park would be a good choice.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lydia was right when she’d told him that Alice had changed a great deal since last he saw her,  but that was all her own fault. He’d never understand why Lydia would allow Alice to dye her hair that light shade of blonde. What were Lydia and Deb doing to Alice if she thought her natural hair color wasn’t lovely? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That didn’t matter to him. Today was all about him and Alice, bonding after too many days apart.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He looked at her again, “Whatcha lookin’ at?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She shrugged, “Nothing.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ah...this was normal. The single-word answers made talking to Alice something of a challenge. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “That Instagram?” he asked, trying to poke at the potential for a conversation with his daughter.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She nodded, still not looking up from her phone, “Yeah.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He smiled, “What’s on Instagram?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She sighed and shook her head, still not looking up from her phone, much to his disappointment, “Nothing.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Okay…so today wasn’t one of her talkative days. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He could make conversation. He could do that. He was a cool dad.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Okay...so, uh…” he began, struggling to find the right words as they made their way through the Witchwoods, expertly navigating the winding roads as if he’d driven them a thousand times before, “I hear Watcher World’s got the tallest roller coaster in the midwest...the Tear-Jerker!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Alice wasn’t listening, her eyes still trained downward on that phone. He inwardly cursed Lydia for convincing him to get Alice a phone. He’d thought that Alice shouldn’t have had a phone before she was twenty, and already she was addicted to that thing. It was already bad enough that Lydia had removed all of the screen time management applications.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Alice sighed, “Ugh...this is gonna be so fun.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> There was some progress! He could get her hooked while there was still time! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “It is!” he smiled, returning his enthusiasm into his voice, “Isn’t it?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “No, Dad…” Alice whispered, almost meekly, “Deb’s throwing a party tonight at her parent’s lake house. There’s gonna be a jet ski and a keg...and I’m missing it.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He didn’t answer. How Deb had managed to capture his daughter’s attention in the ways that she did, he’d never know.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Why would she throw a party when she knows that I’m stuck going to Watcher World?” Alice asked, sparking a little bit of indignance in him.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I don’t know,” he began, trying to keep his enthusiasm present, “Maybe she’s just jealous of all the fun we’re gonna have! Huh!?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The only response he got was a frustrated huff, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alice frown even further down into her phone.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Al, It’s one party,” he fumbled around with his words, trying to convince her of how much fun she was going to have with him, and why she didn’t need to worry about missing whatever shady business Deb and her delinquent friends were getting up to, “You’ll catch the next one.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Alice scoffed, sinking into her seat with further annoyance, “There’s not gonna be a next one. Deb’s grandmother is taking her to Amsterdam on Monday. Then she’s going to early orientation at her art school…” she froze, her eyes wide as she spoke, “I might never see Deb again!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hey, here’s hoping,” Bill began before he realized how harsh the words really were. He inwardly cursed himself and backtracked on the words, “That...that doesn’t happen...But even if it does, and life takes you two in different directions, that’s probably for the best. Deb’ll go be a starving artist and you’ll be a doctor.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Another frustrated huff came from the passenger seat, “I’m gonna be a playwright, Dad.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t support his daughter’s dreams, it was more like he didn’t want her to starve. Besides, Doctors and Lawyers earned a great deal of money, and Alice would be far better at that than she would be a writer. He was convinced of this and knew that Alice would come to understand one day. It was his hope that she realized it sooner rather than later.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Well,” he sighed, “You don’t know what you’re gonna be. You got time to figure it out.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shift and open her mouth to speak, but he jumped back in before she could.  </em>
</p>
<p><em> “The point is, you gotta give Deb some space to live out her own life,” he nodded, “It’s like I always say: If you love her, let her go... </em> let her go… <em> ” he smiled at her as he began to sing. </em></p>
<p><em> Alice rolled her eyes as he began to sing the song from </em> Frozen <em> , shaking her head, “You are so full of…” </em></p>
<p><em> “Love and wisdom,” he nodded, glad that he managed to get the ball rolling with his teenager, ‘Hey! Your Uncle Paul said that someone </em> died <em> on the Tear-Jerker! I mean...they had a pre-existing heart condition, but still...we gotta ride it now!” </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Alice said nothing as the old amusement park came into view, a lovely sight of shades of yellow and purple, the garish park appearing before their eyes as they pulled out of the vast expanse of the Witchwoods. Bill whistled under his breath as he caught sight of the various rides, slightly visible over a bright, colorful fence decorated with intricate patterns in yellow and purple.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He smiled at the sight of the big ‘welcome’ sign, the weird little furry cyclops mascot welcoming them in as Bill parked the car, ready for a day full of fun with his daughter.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As they both got out of the car, he wrapped his arm around his daughter, who was still engrossed in whatever Instagram was offering her, but he didn’t care. They were going to have an amazing time. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You ready for this?” he smiled down at her as they began to walk towards the ticket booth. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Alice merely shrugged, offering a small whisper of “Sure” under her breath, extricating herself from his grasp as they walked.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He grinned as he dug his wallet out of his back pocket.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> This was going to be so much fun! </em>
</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Webby smiled again, seeing and hearing how much pain and panic her plan had caused these people. </p>
<p>Oh, it caused her so much joy to hear it going down.</p>
<p>The tune of an old song they’d all heard before but couldn’t remember, one Apatha had put on the lips of a girl who’d fallen victim to her Apotheosis, appeared in her mind. </p>
<p>Webby smiled as she went to her favorite part of the song, singing it perfectly as she listened to the chaos unfold. </p>
<p>Three down. Three to go. </p>
<p>“<em> Look what happens, Nightmare Time.” </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...there's part one...</p>
<p>Wonder what this means for them...whatever it is, it's not good.</p>
<p>Ted, Lucy, and Bill have fallen...but what does this mean for the others?</p>
<p>*ominous singing* Look what happens, Nightmare Time. </p>
<p>On to part two!</p>
<p>(Also, yes, Webby is a bitch)</p>
<p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like, as I would love to hear your opinions and feedback! I really appreciate you guys for reading my really long chapters! </p>
<p>Please stay tuned for part two, as well as stay safe and healthy!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Carried with the Madness and Scars: Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Buckle up.</p><p>I fully expect you to hate me by the end of this chapter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AAAND WE'RE BACK</p><p>This chapter title is the same as the last one and it comes from the song 'Dark Matter' by Les Friction</p><p> </p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Blood, medical terminology, mentions of stabbing and murder, sadness, mental abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 13th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Something wasn’t right.</p><p>Hannah lay awake, staring at the ceiling of their living room, unable to get comfy on the trundle-bed that Tom had made for her months before. </p><p>She knew there was something wrong but she didn’t know what.</p><p>She was hearing everything and nothing, the thoughts of the people on base were a mix of both screams and laughter, and she couldn’t tell which was good and which was bad...in fact, she couldn’t separate whether or not any of this was good or bad. </p><p>She sighed and turned over on her side. </p><p>Lexi had said that Webby had been just trying to worry her when she sent the warning, trying to give Hannah something to focus on that didn’t mean anything, but Hannah couldn’t let it go. </p><p>How could she?</p><p>She’d <em> felt </em>Webby’s presence when she’d delivered the warning, almost as if the spider herself had spoken through her the week before. </p><p>She couldn’t forget those words...the words she’d spoken but had no idea where they’d come from...or what they’d meant. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You can run, but are you fast enough? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You can hide, but I will find you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Close your eyes so you don’t doze off. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hold your breath so I can’t hear you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The trail of tears that you will leave me… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Will lead me straight to those who fear me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You can run if I don’t catch you… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But the-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannah shuddered, internally cursing herself for not listening to the end of Webby’s warning. Something told her that if she had listened, she would have been able to completely understand the meaning. She would have more information as to what was happening...she could be of more use to those who mattered to her...to her family.</p><p>They’d all assured her not to worry about it, that she was doing wonderful in what she offered them, but sometimes she found herself worrying that what she offered them wasn’t enough. </p><p>Never enough. </p><p>She wanted nothing more than to keep them all safe. </p><p>But she couldn’t do that. </p><p>There were too many words circulating around in her head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Scream.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Poison.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Forest.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lies. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bleeding. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Loss.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fear.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Taken.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Watched.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eye.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Webs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One-thousand.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Twenty-three. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hopeless.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Heartless. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Marriage.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> False.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Amusement.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Venom. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nighthawk. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Myth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lost.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fallen.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She knew what the words meant individually...but in the context of what they were going through and how they were interconnected? She found herself at a loss. </p><p>The mere thought of it made her head hurt. </p><p>What was Webby planning?</p><p>She sighed. </p><p>She wished she could provide them with the answers they knew...before it was too late. </p><p>She felt responsible for her family in a way, and she knew they depended on her, even if they never said it outwardly. </p><p>She was powerful, she knew...powerful enough to make people look down at her as if it was strange that such power should reside in such a small person like herself.</p><p>She knew she was given these gifts for a reason...so why couldn’t she use them? </p><p>How could she know something was coming, but not be able to understand what exactly was happening? Or how she could stop it? </p><p>Why did she feel like she was failing her family?</p><p>This wonderful, beautiful, broken family who’d welcomed her and Lex into, and even brought back Ethan. This family who loved her and never made her feel like she was the ‘useless runt’ her mother had insisted that she was. </p><p>She wanted to protect them with everything they had.</p><p>They’d given her and Lexi the family they’d wanted so badly...the family, she knew, that would keep them safe. </p><p>She owed them that much. </p><p>And yet, here she was, feeling like she could make no sense of whatever it was that was going on inside her head. </p><p>She sighed and rolled over on her side, trying to at the very least filter out some of the words.</p><p>What was she doing? </p><p>She was just a little girl going against some of the most powerful forces in the world.</p><p>Power. </p><p>Power.</p><p>Power. </p><p>She had power...didn’t she?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Do you think you have power, Little Seer?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannah let out a small shriek as the sound of the Spider’s voice, echoing in her mind as loud as it had been the first time she’d ever heard her. </p><p>“N-no…” she whispered, “L-leave me alone…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>You’ll never be able to save them, Little Seer.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Leave me alone,” Hannah whimpered, curling in on herself, “S-stop.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Little Hannah.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Please…” Hannah whispered, dragging her blankets over her head as if that might protect her from the power of the Spider, as if this were only a bad dream,  “Please leave us alone….”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>You’ve let them all down.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“St-Stop…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Do you know why?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Liar...Liar…” Hannah whimpered, “L-leave me alone…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Because you’re too late… Little Seer.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“NO!” Hannah screamed, unable to stop herself as tears dripped down her face, ‘Don’t hurt them! Don’t hurt them! <em> Leave them alone!!! </em>”</p><p>“Hannah?” </p><p>Hannah’s eyes snapped open as the sound of a familiar voice seemed to break through all of the fear. Reluctantly, she peeked out from behind the blanket to see the silhouette of Ethan as he approached her, rubbing his eyes in the dim light cast from her night light. </p><p>“E-Ethan?” she whispered. </p><p>“Yeah…” he whispered, sitting down on the couch, a foot or two away from her, “You alright…?”</p><p>Without thinking, she let out a sob and rushed forward, jumping off of her bed and into Ethan’s arms. Almost instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, providing some instant comfort in comparison to the wrath that Webby tried to inflict upon her. </p><p>“Hey...hey,” Ethan whispered softly, his arms cuddling her close, “You’re okay...I’ve got you, Banana...you’re okay.”</p><p>“T-Too late…” Hannah sobbed, her voice muffled slightly into his shoulder, “T-Too late.”</p><p>“Whoa, shh,” Ethan soothed, “Shh...slow down, Banana...breathe...breathe...it’s okay.”</p><p>She shook her head, “She’s gonna hurt you guys...Can’t...can’t…”</p><p>“Who?” Ethan asked softly, “Banana...are you sure this wasn’t just a nightmare?” </p><p>“N-No..she’s…” Hannah began before she caught herself, “What did you say?”</p><p>Ethan’s eyes softened, “Was...was it a nightmare?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nightmare. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her heart thundered in her chest suddenly, her mind racing as the lyric she'd cut off finished itself for her. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...You can run, if I don't catch you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the Nightmare Time is gonna get you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Lexi…” she whispered, gripping Ethan’s shirt tightly, “Where’s Lexi?”</p><p>“Hannah,” Ethan sighed, a small smile on his face, “Lex’s asleep...she’s fine…”</p><p>
  <em> No.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Taken.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Trapped. </em>
</p><p>She couldn’t hear her...she couldn’t hear Lex’s thoughts...</p><p>Hannah shook her head, “Taken away. Taken...can’t read her...Trapped.”</p><p>“Trapped?” Ethan asked, “Hannah, what do you-?” </p><p>“Attacks,” she explained, pushing herself away from Ethan before running for his and Lex’s rooms, “Condemned to Nightmare Time.”</p><p>She threw open the door to her sister and Ethan’s room, quickly running for Lex’s side of the bed, “Lexi!” </p><p>In the dark of the room, she could barely make out the lump of her sister’s form, curled up in fetal position. Blindly, Hannah fumbled for the lamp as Ethan came into the room. </p><p>“Banana? What are you trying to- ah! Shit!” </p><p>Ethan cursed as Hannah found the switch for the lamp, light flooding the room. Hannah hissed under her breath as light flooded the room but she didn’t care, she immediately turned her attention to her sleeping sister. She was turned away from Ethan and Hannah, but from the look of it, she was sleeping normally. </p><p>“Lexi!” she shook her sister, but got no response, “Lexi!! Wake up!”</p><p>Ethan seemed to catch on to the seriousness of the situation and gently touched Lex’s shoulder, “Hey...hey, Lex…”</p><p>No response. </p><p>“Lexi!” Hannah shrieked, “Lexi….wake up!” </p><p>Gently, Ethan turned her sister over and had to stifle a gasp as they both caught sight of Lex’s face. </p><p>Her face was covered in blood, her eyes closed, but smeared over with the red substance. Some strands of her hair were sticking to her face in the already dried blood, and around her neck, Hannah caught sight of some black-looking veins. She couldn’t ignore the strain of panic that overtook her at that moment.</p><p>“Oh my God,” Ethan whispered, “Lex! C’mon, babe...” </p><p>He gently shook her, his voice growing more and more frantic as he did. Hannah couldn’t stop the tears from falling. </p><p>“Lexi! Babe!” Ethan shouted, tears filling his eyes, “Wake up!”</p><p>She could have prevented this. </p><p>She’d failed.</p><p>She couldn’t save her sister. </p><p>As Ethan ran around, grabbing his transponder and trying to get a hold of John or anybody in the infirmary, Hannah allowed the tears to fall, Webby’s words echoing in her mind as she stared at her sister. </p><p>Her sister was trapped in Nightmare Time. </p><p>Her sister, whom she couldn’t save.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Too late, Little Seer. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Paul opened his eyes to find that Emma was sitting up in bed...again, peering over her laptop as she worked. The soft sound of her typing was soothing to him, as was the expression of her face which appeared so deep in her work. So intentional as she typed up her next report for Xander.</p><p>They’d talked about it over the course of the day since both of them worked from their apartment now. She’d mentioned how they were surveying the bodies for any more tattoos and preparing for the next autopsy, which they had yet to select the next subject for. Sometimes they’d discuss what numbers he’d be running, usually keeping track of the population, what resources they had, how their security systems were holding up, but for the most part, he organized the information they’d receive at the meetings, much like the one they’d had a week before.</p><p>In spite of how vexing their work was, or how terrifying their circumstances were, he knew they were still happy...and they wouldn’t give up until they had the answers they needed. Even if the answers they received weren’t what they wanted, they knew the circumstances demanded they have the truth, and Emma had committed herself to it.</p><p>He smiled softly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he rolled over to check his clock on the side of his bed. </p><p>
  <em> 12:14 </em>
</p><p>He hummed slightly under his breath before he turned over once more to look at Emma, her beautiful face illuminated by the light from her laptop screen as she typed furiously.</p><p>“You planning on sleeping any time soon?” he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep. </p><p>She sighed and looked over at him, one of her hands brushing a few strands of his hair out of his face gently, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”</p><p>“So are you,” he retorted, “Don’t make me call Phillipa on you.”</p><p>Emma laughed under her breath, her attention turned back to the screen, “I’m sure she’s got better things to do than yell at me about sleeping habits.”</p><p>“Emma…” he whined, scooting over to bury his face in her side, one of her arms curling around him as he did, “Phillipa told you to rest. Both you and the baby need it!”</p><p>“I will!” she exclaimed in false exasperation, “I just need to finish this paragraph.”</p><p>“I’m calling bullshit,” he muttered, knowing exactly where the ‘one more paragraph’ excuse was coming from.</p><p>He tried to crack open one of his eyes, but the light from the laptop suddenly sent a sharp stab of pain to the back of his eye, making him feel like he suddenly had a migraine. He winced, burying his face in his pillow as he did. </p><p>“You okay?” she whispered, looking down at him as he winced. </p><p>“Yeah...m’ fine,” he mumbled, “My head just hurts…”</p><p>“We still have Tylenol if you need it,” Emma murmured. </p><p>He shook his head, “It’s fine...it’s nothing.”</p><p>“Mm-hmm,” she hummed sarcastically, finally closing her laptop with a sigh. She looked back down at him before placing her laptop to charge on her bedside table and nestled closer to him, “You sure?”</p><p>“Pretty sure,” he responded, keeping the eye that had the most pain behind it closed. </p><p>“Paul, it’s rarely ever nothing,” Emma hummed, pulling herself close to him and closing her eyes as she got comfy, “Taking a pill or something will definitely help you sleep better.”</p><p>“Yeah, probably,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around Emma and pulling her closer to him, “I don’t want to get up, though.”</p><p>She sighed, “I get that.”</p><p>For a moment, they both just sat there, indulging in the warmth that they shared since it certainly felt to him like their apartment was freezing. </p><p>Emma hissed slightly, drawing away from him, her hands finding his where they were wrapped around her, “Why are your hands so cold? Usually, that’s my job.”</p><p>He pulled his hands back slightly, trying not to cause her any discomfort, “Sorry.”</p><p>“I didn’t say to let go of me,” she whispered, grabbing his hands and placing them back on her as she moved to wrap her own arms around him, “Weirdo.”</p><p>He scoffed slightly under his breath as she nuzzled her head into his chest, “Weird...Emma, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were being affectionate.”</p><p>“Damn straight,” she retorted, “And if you tell anyone, I’ll skin you.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes as she settled into him, her small body fitting perfectly against his as they settled into comfort. Despite how crazy their world had become, he’d never felt more at peace. With her in his arms, he felt as if he could never have been in a more perfect or wonderful place. He could never have felt more strong or safe with her in his arms, or by his side. He’d do anything to stay at her side as long as he would let her...and he wanted to be worthy of her. </p><p>The question he’d been contemplating since he’d gotten her back all those months ago reappeared in his mind. </p><p>It was a question a lot of people asked other people. </p><p>
  <em> Will you marry me? </em>
</p><p>Honestly, with the divorce rates as high as they were, Paul figured more people asked the question than they should have, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a common question. </p><p>And it was a question he’d been meaning to ask Emma for a very long time. </p><p>The fact that he’d been wrestling with popping the question on the exact same day they found out they were going to have a baby must have meant something. Maybe it meant that they’d be a family regardless of whether or not he asked her, or maybe it meant that the question shouldn’t be asked, after all. He didn’t know what to make of it.</p><p>All he was certain of was the fact that he loved Emma with every part of himself. </p><p>He knew that he loved her and their child with everything he had and that he didn’t want to be parted from them for as long as they wanted him. </p><p>He’d wanted to marry her for a very long time, knowing that he would have loved to show the world that he was Emma’s Perkins husband, that she’d agreed to be his wife, with a pair of rings, but he knew that Emma might not have been the marrying type. If that were the case, of course, he’d respect that, but the fact remained that he’d never know until he asked.</p><p>He knew he’d essentially known Emma for <em> lifetimes </em> and the fact that they always found their way to one another definitely had to mean <em> something.  </em></p><p>So why was he so hesitant to ask her?</p><p>He knew he loved her, and she reminded him every day that she loved him. They’d been through hell together in past resets, crossing paths more times than he could probably count. Hell, they’d torn apart the fabric of reality to be together. No matter how much pain and death that they’d both seen, they’d pulled each other back. It was almost as if loving her and being loved in return by her kept him alive, and he’d do whatever he could to protect her. Now they were even going to start a family together...the small life that was growing every day within Emma was a combination of both Emma and him. What he’d ever done to deserve someone like her...to deserve the <em> family </em> he’d found with her...he’d never know.</p><p>Her hand went to his hair and she hummed against the skin of his neck, “What are you thinking about?”</p><p>He felt something that wasn’t entirely panic shoot through his veins. He wanted to tell her the truth...the question he was considering asking her. Though he lacked a ring, or anything to present her with that would convey the question properly, he wanted so badly to ask her right there. All he had to offer her was himself...he just wished he could convince himself that that was enough. </p><p>“Hello?” she chuckled softly, “You awake in there?” </p><p>He glanced down at her, at her soft, sleepy smile that crossed her face. </p><p>God, she was so beautiful.</p><p>“Nothing,” he mumbled, “I just love you...a whole fucking lot.”</p><p>She wrinkled her nose, “Disgusting.”</p><p>“I know,” he laughed softly, “I can’t help it, though.”</p><p>“Damn...sounds serious, huh?” she smiled up at him. </p><p>“Pretty serious,” he nodded, smiling back at her, “You could say I’m crazy about you.”</p><p>She sighed and shook her head, making him raise his eyebrow as she smiled, “Too much?” </p><p>“A little,” she pulled herself up slightly so her head was right next to his own, “But for what it’s worth...I love you too.”</p><p>She smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips that he didn’t want to end. He smiled into the kiss as his hands went to her hair, gently holding her closer and feeling the softness of her messy brown waves. She smiled back and cupped his face, pulling back slightly to breathe before kissing him again, making him feel like his insides were flip-flopping all over the place. He’d never felt so alive than he’d felt the moment she’d walked into his life. God, every single time he kissed her it was like this.  </p><p>He just loved her.</p><p>Suddenly she pulled back, “Paul?” </p><p>He opened his eyes and peered down at her face in the dim light, “What?”</p><p>As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see Emma’s face, but her eyes were wide as she pushed herself into a sitting position, “You okay?” </p><p>His eyes trailed up to where her hand was on her face, tracing around a dark splotch he couldn’t entirely see. It was then that the scent of the iron hit him.</p><p>“Shit,” he muttered, his hand flying to his nose as he recognized the feeling of the warm blood dripping down his face, sticking to his skin. He flung back the covers and quickly swung his feet over the side of the bed, Emma sitting up and moving to stand as well, reaching over and grabbing her prosthetic, getting it on as quickly as she could. He stood quickly, being met by a wave of dizziness as he did, spots dancing in the dark as he tried to steady himself against their dresser.</p><p>“You alright?” She asked as she stood, somewhat shaky on her prosthetic. </p><p>He nodded, suddenly unable to form any words at all, as his ears were ringing and his nose was still pouring blood. Through his blurred vision, he stumbled aimlessly to their bathroom door, flicking on the light before leaning over the sink, just as he had done these past couple of nights. Emma followed him, picking up a tissue and wiping away at the blood on her own face. </p><p>Suddenly, the stabbing in his head returned and he winced, flinching and almost losing his balance as the blood began to pool in the sink. Emma grabbed onto his arm.</p><p>“What is it?” she asked him, her eyes slightly wide, “What’s wrong?” </p><p>He grit his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut at the sudden light which felt like it was making the pain in his head worse, “I’ll take that Tylenol, now,” he whispered, one of his hands going to apply pressure to his skull as his nose continued to drip the ruby fluid. </p><p>Emma nodded and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly before walking to their medicine cabinet where she kept her painkillers and whatever it was that Phillipa had sent them home with for the sake of their baby, when she turned back to him, her eyes growing wider.</p><p>“What the hell is that?” she asked, sounding somewhat afraid, her voice shaking “C-can I touch you?”</p><p>At his nod, she reached out, her fingers gently tracing at the back of his neck, almost as if she were examining a specimen. As soon as her fingers made contact with his skin, however, a wave of cold pain suddenly shot up his spine, eliciting a small, stifled cry of pain from him before he even knew what had happened. Emma immediately withdrew her hand and grabbed onto his arm as he almost fell backward, “Paul? Paul!”</p><p>Why did her voice suddenly sound like it was underwater? </p><p>Why did it sound like she was so far away?</p><p>The pain at the back of his neck began to spread, making him stumble away from Emma’s arms, almost crumpling to the cool tile floor, crawling away from her. </p><p>“What the hell!?” Emma whispered, her eyes wide and growing panicked as she knelt to the floor, partially crawling after him, “<em> Paul, what’s happening?!” </em></p><p>“<em> Stay back!” </em> he whispered, his voice breaking. He didn’t know what was happening, but whatever it was, he needed her to stay away from him, no matter how much it broke his heart, “ <em> Don’t come close!” </em></p><p>“Paul…” Through his blurred vision, he could see Emma’s eyes were filled with tears as she scooted back slightly. Her eyes widened, “I’m gonna call John...W-we’ll get you help!” </p><p>She jumped up and ran for the bedroom, he could hear her cursing under her breath as she rummaged around in the room, frantically searching for her transponder.</p><p>He felt his consciousness slipping away from him. He didn’t know what was happening, but he felt like he was falling. He felt as though his body was turning into lead and he was sinking to the bottom of a deep blue sea. He wanted her to come back. He wanted so desperately to reach out and take her hand, but he couldn’t find the strength to as darkness tried to pull away at him.</p><p>“John!” Emma was shouting as she ran back into the bathroom, holding her transponder, her voice filled with so much panic and pain, “John, something’s up with Paul...I don’t know what’s happening…”</p><p>He could hear John say something back, but the words were all blurred, only getting a panicked nod out of Emma, “We’re in the bathroom, off of the bedroom,” she whispered, “I don’t know...I couldn’t...okay…”</p><p>She set down the transponder, her eyes never leaving him as tears fell from them. Her hand went to her stomach as she fought against tears, breaking his heart.</p><p>“Emma…” he whispered, his hand reaching out for her weakly, “Em…”</p><p>“It’s gonna be okay, Paul,” she whispered, “We’re gonna be okay…”</p><p>For a moment, it looked like she was only saying that to convince herself of the fact. He could see the doubt and fear in her eyes as she looked at him and winced. </p><p>He tried to listen for her heartbeat...hers and the baby’s...but his senses were so blurred he couldn’t get anything. He sighed as he felt his wakefulness slipping from him.</p><p>“Em,” he whispered, trying to reach for her again, “Emma…”</p><p>“I’m here…” she sniffed, her hand finding his own despite him trying to get her away from whatever it was that was trying to claim him, “I’m here, Paul…”</p><p>“I…” he whispered, trying to get the words out before he was gone, “I lov-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Please stand for the bride.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of an aisle, already decked with blue and cream flowers, in the middle of the foyer at the Natural History Museum. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Miserably, he sighed and glanced over his shoulder, where the man who’d stabbed him to death, the man who looked impossibly like himself, stood. Smiling and looking nervous as he straightened his own navy suit, the crisp jacket covering the tiny tattoo of the number twenty-three which betrayed his true identity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah right.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was at the wedding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not his own, of course...but his murderer’s wedding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked down with a sigh and found that he was still wearing the blood-stained work outfit that he’d been wearing when his doppelganger had replaced him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Death hadn’t been final for him, it seemed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Since that fateful day when he was replaced, he’d found himself following his murderer,  who wore his face, around. Not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was forced to follow the man around, see everything, but never be seen. He was a ghost, he was fairly sure. And he was forced to watch as the false version of himself did everything he never could.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Including marrying the love of his life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d been dreading having to watch this day since he’d watched that false version of Paul pick Emma up from work and pick up where he’d left off like it was nothing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No matter how much he screamed, or cried, or pleaded with Emma that the man she was so certain was him wasn’t him, nobody could hear him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could only watch.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Watch as the man who’d murdered him lived his life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The life he’d stolen.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The life he’d wanted so badly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The life Paul wished he could have had with Emma.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When the false-Paul (whom he’d taken to calling 23, due to the tattoo) had first bought the ring, Paul had been unable to do anything but watch. Unable to scream out and cry at the notion that the happiness that he’d wanted for himself and Emma was stolen from him. He was forced to watch as 23 proposed to her, and Emma, unknowing that 23 was a false version of him, accepted, kissing him and loving him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The worst part of it all was knowing that Emma didn’t know it wasn’t him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could never blame her for it, for he knew it wasn’t her fault. But every single day, he found his heart being broken just a little bit more with the knowledge that he couldn’t be the one to love her and make her happy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt tears prick his eyes as 23 straightened his jacket and looked expectantly at the doors.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul couldn’t tear his eyes away from the false version of himself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This thief.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How could he have done something like this? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d stolen Paul’s life and didn’t exhibit a single ounce of remorse. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Granted, Emma had never been Paul’s to steal away...she was always her own person, and agreeing to marry 23 had been her own choice...but that didn’t take away how much pain he felt.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t right.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t fair.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was ironic, he knew, that he should feel such pain after being dead. He figured this was supposed to be his own personal hell, feeling the pain of loss as he watched the life he’d wanted to be his own play out in front of him, just beyond his grasp, but being lived by another person. A person who’d taken it all away.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, 23’s eyes widened, filling with tears as a disbelieving smile crossed his face. Hidgens, even, who was dressed as a minister, smiled and clapped 23 on the back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a deep breath, Paul turned around, and almost instantly his breath was taken away.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was Emma, standing on the other end of the aisle, looking beautiful as ever.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She slowly made her way towards him, seemingly gliding down the aisle with the material of her dress, beaming down the aisle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For a moment, Paul felt as though his heart would sing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was almost as if she was smiling at him...as if he was the man who’d asked her to marry him. As if he was the man she’d agreed to spend the rest of her life with. As if he was the man she wanted to love for the rest of her life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And for a moment he found himself believing it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then that moment ended, and Emma...beautiful, perfect Emma...glided through him, continuing past him to join 23 in front of Hidgens.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt like his insides were being torn apart as Emma handed her bouquet to Tim and took 23’s hands in front of Hidgens, the both of them smiling at one another. The look in her eyes was filled with so much love and joy...he wished he could have been the one to make her feel that way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Hidgens began the service, Paul fell to his knees, unable to tear eyes away from Emma, his heart feeling like it was being broken over and over again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he watched the wedding unfold, the vows almost about to start, he found tears dripping down his face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As much as he wanted to run the other way, he knew he’d just manifest once again to watch it, making his eternity all the more painful.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was excruciating, he knew, knowing that his eternity would be spent watching theirs. </em>
</p><p><em> Unable to do anything to stop it, or at the very least let Emma know that it was </em> him <em> , he cried, and cried, whispering softly to himself.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “I love you, Emma.” </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! </em>
</p><p>A harsh knock on his apartment door roused Tom and Becky from their sleep.</p><p>Tom cursed and fumbled for the lamp in the dark as Becky groaned and sat up, her messy red curls falling around her as she rubbed her eyes.</p><p>“What time is it?” Becky mumbled, rubbing her eyes with a small hiss as Tom found the switch of the lamp, her red hair and light blue pajama set restoring Tom’s sense of color to him. </p><p>“Dunno,” he shrugged, groaning as the annoying knocking continued, “But someone better be dying for someone to wake us up at this hour.”</p><p>“Tom,” Becky sighed, rubbing her eyes as she pulled a robe over her pajamas, “I’m sure it’s serious.”</p><p>
  <em> KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! </em>
</p><p>Tom muttered something under his breath about Becky being a much better person than he was before sitting up. The loud knocking continued and he cursed under his breath.</p><p>
  <em> KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, yeah...we’re coming!” Tom shouted, lowering his volume when he remembered that Tim was still asleep in the small side room.</p><p>Becky pulled open their bedroom door, quickly making her way in front of him, “I’ll open the door...I’m a lot friendlier than you in the mornings.”</p><p>“Be my guest,” Tom sighed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. For a moment, he just leaned in the bedroom doorway, wondering what the hell someone would be doing waking them up at...he glanced at their clock.</p><p>
  <em> 12:16 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, fuck no.  </em>
</p><p>He tried to swallow whatever anger was building in his stomach at the knowledge that they’d been woken at the most obscene hours of the morning. His head was already hurting, and waking up to extremely loud banging on his front door had done nothing to help him.  Why the hell hadn’t he taken aspirin or something before he’d gone to bed? He really hoped that there wasn’t going to be anybody of importance before God, this better have been good, because if it wasn’t…</p><p>“Dad?” </p><p>Tom snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the door to Tim’s room, where his son was leaning against the doorframe, rubbing sleep from his eyes, “What’s happening?”</p><p>Tom sighed, “I don’t know, buddy...I don’t know, why don’t you go back to bed? Alright?” </p><p>Tim shook his head, “Who’s here?” </p><p>“I don’t know, bud,” Tom sighed, stifling a yawn. </p><p>“John?” he could hear Becky say from the front door, “What are you doing here?”  </p><p>“Evidently,” Tom sighed, “It’s your Mackie.”</p><p>“Tom…”</p><p>Tom whirled around to see the man in question, looking exhausted although he was in full uniform and standing as stiff as a board as he normally did. The look in his eyes was grave and Tom didn’t like it one bit. Judging from the urgency in the man’s eyes, something was very bad. </p><p>“Tim,” Tom began officially, keeping his voice as low as he could, “Go back to bed, please…”</p><p>“Why?” Tim began, his voice small and somewhat scared, “What’s wrong?</p><p>“Tim, please,” John spoke, his voice quiet as he did. For a moment, Tom could see John’s expression waver, almost as if he were begging the boy to obey. </p><p>Tim nodded, his eyes scanning the room in a way that was extremely comparable to the way Jane used to, back when he knew something was wrong. Slowly, Tim slinked backward and closed his bedroom door. </p><p>Wincing at the dull throb in his head, Tom turned to John, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” </p><p>“Ted seized at the turn of midnight,” John explained,  “And Hidgens made an observation that made it seem like you have to come with me...now.”</p><p>“What?” Becky asked, her eyes wide, “There are a lot of variables you’re leaving out there, and I’m not sure I like it.” </p><p>John sighed, “I know...I know...you’ll just have to trust me.”</p><p>“Can you give it to me straight,” Tom began, ignoring the sudden slight ringing in his ears  “What’s the problem exactly?”</p><p>John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “We think what happened to Ted has something to do with the February seventh attacks...I sent Xander to go find Lucy and Mr. Woodward, my job is to retrieve you, Lex, and Paul.”</p><p>“Why?” Becky asked, her voice growing slightly annoyed, “What’s happening to them?”</p><p>“Hopefully nothing,” John sighed, “But we found an infection on the back of Ted’s neck and his heart rate is sky-high. We don’t know what this means...but for precautionary measures, we’re getting all of you to the infirmary. He’s in real bad shape.”</p><p>John raised an eyebrow, “Can I check for something?”</p><p>Tom took a step back, “What? What exactly are you looking for?”</p><p>Without another word, John went behind Tom, making Tom run aside and hold his hands out, his world suddenly spinning, “Whoa...whoa...what are you doing?” </p><p>John sighed, “Where Ted stabbed you...on February seventh...he had an infection...it looked kind of like a...web.”</p><p>John’s words suddenly began to sink into nothingness and the colors that surrounded Tom began to blur.</p><p>He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat. </p><p>He could hear his breathing grow ragged as the throbbing of his head grew. </p><p>“Tom?” Becky asked, “You okay…?”</p><p>“Mnnh…” Tom muttered, waving her off slightly, “I’m fine…”</p><p>“No,” John shook his head, “No, you’re not.”</p><p>“What are you…” Tom whispered, suddenly feeling out of breath before he felt himself falling to the ground. </p><p>He hit the ground hard, but he couldn’t find the strength to react or </p><p>He could hear several people at once saying his name, but he couldn’t discern who was saying what. The world around him became blurry as he started to scramble aimlessly across the floor, his every limb feeling heavy and weighted.</p><p>“<em> DAD!”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Tim… </em>
</p><p>He could hear his son’s voice through it all. Through all of the pain that he was suddenly feeling. Although the world suddenly felt like it was spinning, he could hold onto Tim. </p><p>“What’s wrong with him?” He heard his son ask Becky in a panic, “B-Becky, what’s wrong…”</p><p>He couldn’t hear Becky’s sweet voice, or what she was saying. All he could feel was the pain and the fear that his son felt. </p><p>His mouth formed the beginning of his son’s name, poised to call out to his son, to give him the false idea that everything was going to be okay, but as darkness pulled at him, he felt like he was being dragged deeper into something he couldn’t understand. </p><p>He could feel two soft hands gripping his own, one smaller than the more delicate larger hand as if Tim and Becky were trying to physically pull him back. </p><p>He could no longer hold on as he sank into darkness. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Dad?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hmm…” he muttered, snapping out of his daze to see Tim sitting across from him, his half-eaten peanut-butter sandwich looking abandoned on his plate, the crusts peeled off in a way that would have made Jane protest, “What is it buddy?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim raised an eyebrow, his beanie pulled over his head, concealing his messy mop of brown hair, “Are you gonna get that?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He gestured to the space on the table in front of Tom and he looked down to see his cellphone in front of him, vibrating against the table. The caller ID displayed the name Tony Green.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah. Probably something about the car.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He picked up the phone and hit the answer button, “Yeah?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey Tom,” came Tony Green’s voice from the other end, “How are ya?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m doing fine, Tony,” Tom smiled at the sound of his old friend’s voice, “How’re you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Just fine, man,” Tony spoke with his usual polite casualness, immediately putting Tom at ease, “Listen...I’m calling about the Mustang.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom sighed and stood, moving to open the backdoor and stepping out onto their back porch. While Tim had known that the car they’d crashed a year and a half ago had been sent in for extensive repairs, Tom knew that the mention of the car itself had been something of a sore subject for them both. Tom would be lying if his stomach didn’t twist painfully every time he thought of the last time he’d driven the car...back when Tim had a mother and Tom had been married. Still, Tom was fairly certain that having the car repaired would do them some good. There were a lot of good memories in that car, memories of his past with Jane, and the potential for new memories with Becky. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Becky… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled at the thought of his favorite redhead nurse. It had been chance that they’d reconnected. One fateful trip to ToyZone after Thanksgiving, trying to find a Christmas present for Tim, when he’d bumped into his highschool sweetheart. Though it had been over a decade since he’d seen her last, since they’d dated, just seeing her there was enough for him to remember how it felt to be totally in love. It was almost as if the door from his high school years that he’d tried to lock shut had suddenly fallen open, and everything he felt for Becky all of those years ago had come flooding back to him. They’d had lunch a few times since then, talking often on the phone, just like they had back when phones still needed to be attached to walls, and it seemed like for the first time since Jane had died, Tom had found happiness with someone in the ways that Tim couldn’t provide.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’d made plans to go to Pizza Pete’s that night, so she could meet Tim. He hoped, with everything he had, that Tim would like Becky...which was a silly fear, he knew, everyone loved Becky, and if you didn’t, you were either a fucking coward or jealous of her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, the fun they’d had in his Mustang when they were in high school… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, right...the Mustang. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pushed away the thoughts of Becky and answered Tony, “Yeah? What’s up, Tony? With the...with the car?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tony chuckled from his end, “Well, the car should be ready for you to drop by and pick up in a few days, but I was wondering if you wanted me to make any alterations?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alterations?” Tom asked.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Tony chuckled, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this car is...to quote Ethan, ‘Fuckin’ old’.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom laughed, “Yeah...Leave it to Ethan to say something like that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Tom could tell Tony was smiling, “But the radio is really old, and still kind of battered up...especially the cassette player. If you want, I can replace it with a more modern stereo-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” Tom shook his head, “No thanks, Tony...I want it in the exact same condition as it was before…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He trailed off and winced as the memory of that fateful night appeared in his mind again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Flash.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bang. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You still there, Tom?” Tony’s voice cut through the silence, snapping him free of his reverie.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom sighed and nodded, despite the fact that Tony wouldn’t be able to see it, “Yeah...yeah, I’m here…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” Tony sounded like he was back in business mode, but still mindful of the distress he was experiencing, “I should have the car ready in two or three days, we just need to finish some paint touch-ups and testing the engine...Ethan and Lex have been helping me out though so it shouldn’t take long.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Thanks, Tony,” Tom smiled, “You’re truly a miracle worker.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey,” Tony took on the usual modest tone that he always used when complimented, “Anything I can do for an old pal.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ll pick the car up on Sunday,” Tom nodded, “How does that sound?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sounds great,” Tony responded, and Tom could hear the smile in his voice, “I’ll see ya then. Say hi to little Timmo for me, okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Of course,” Tom smiled, “And you say hi to Lex and Ethan for me...I miss seeing them every day, they’re good kids.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “They really are,” Tony replied, his voice sounding as though it were filled with pride, “I’ll see you Sunday. You take care of yourself, Tom, okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Will do,” Tom sighed, “See ya, Tony.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, he hung up the phone and went back into the house where Tim was playing with the remnants of his sandwich crust in front of him, making shapes with it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Was that Mr. Tony?” Tim asked, not looking up from his sandwich crusts.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Tom nodded, “He just wanted to ask me a few things about the car- and quit playing with your food.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim sighed and dropped the sandwich crusts, which looked like they’d formed the beginnings of a flower, “Are we still going to Pizza Pete’s tonight?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom smiled as the memory of Becky’s smiling face returned to his mind, “Yeah, buddy...I’ve got a friend I would really like you to meet.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A friend?” Tim looked up, furrowing his eyebrows, “What kind of friend?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She’s just…” Tom wrestled with the words on his tongue, not wanting Tim to think that he’d suddenly rushed into a relationship so soon after Jane had passed on, “She’s a friend I knew in high school.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She?” Tim raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face, “You mean you have a girlfriend?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He put emphasis on the word girlfriend, and suddenly, Tom felt like he’d been lowered to a middle school level, being teased by his friends because he blushed about a girl they knew he liked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” Tom began, tossing his son a playful glare“Not really...she’s just a friend.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sure…” Tim nodded in a way that reminded Tom way too much of Jane, “Can she play Zombie House with me?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t know, bud,” Tom shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to figure it out when we get there.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I hope she can,” Tim sighed, “I would have beaten Aunt Emma last time, but Uncle Paul cheated and told her where they were coming from.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pouted down at the table with a small laugh he tried very hard to conceal, before looking up at Tom, a soft contemplative look in his eyes, “What’s her name?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom smiled down at his son, “Becky. Becky Barnes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was strange, just saying her name made him want to smile.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim noticed this and nodded with a small smile, “That’s a good name. I’m sure I’ll like her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom could only smile at his son and think to himself… </em>
</p><p>‘God, I sure hope so.’</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t want Tim to think that he was replacing Jane. He never wanted to replace her, or erase memories of her from his son’s mind. Just as some part of him had always loved Becky, he would always love Jane. She was simply unforgettable, and he knew that she would always be in his heart, but he couldn’t deny everything that he felt for Becky.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Regardless of how long they’d been apart, it felt almost as if those feelings he’d had for Becky had never gone away...rather, they’d just hibernated.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane wouldn’t want Tom and Tim to be alone for the rest of their lives, right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane would have wanted them to move on and heal in their grief. In some ways, the reemergence of Emma a year and a half before had started that process, especially with the addition of Paul to their family. Since Emma had come back, Tom had noticed the light that had returned to his eyes. Tim adored Emma and Paul, who he’d already taken to calling Uncle, even before Paul and Emma had gotten married a few months ago.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Admittedly, it had taken a while for Tom to warm up to them both, but after a few months of beating around the bush with Emma, he’d known that they would never heal until they started living with the living and not with the dead. That had truly started the process of healing and made all the difference when it came to the happiness of his son and himself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe Becky coming into their lives was the next step to all of that.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Becky was soft and gentle in all the ways Jane hadn’t been...and in times like these, maybe that was just what he needed. Maybe that’s what Tim needed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he smiled down at his son, he nodded, hoping that his son truly would like Becky.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe this was the perfect start of their new future.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A fresh start. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A clean slate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe this was a perfect new beginning. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Emma couldn’t bring herself to breathe as she sat there, holding Tim’s hand in her own.</p><p>She couldn’t believe what was happening, and was fighting against a sense of deja-vu as she found herself in another infirmary waiting room with Tim, Ethan, Hannah, Alice, Deb, and Becky...all of them waiting for information on their loved ones who’d mysteriously collapsed less than twenty minutes before.</p><p>She couldn’t get Paul’s terrified and pain-filled face out of her head. He’d been fine in the moments just before it happened, only complaining of a mild headache. The next thing she knew, they were kissing and his nose started bleeding, which lead to her noticing a strange black marking on the back of his neck, which lead to him collapsing and losing consciousness before she knew what to do with it.</p><p>John had sent medical personnel to their apartment, and the next thing she knew, she was watching them take Paul away, once again leaving her in the chilly waiting room while God-only-knew what the hell was going on with him. </p><p>She hated feeling this way.</p><p>She hated feeling so...so powerless. </p><p>Not only had Paul collapsed, apparently. Lucy, Tom, Bill, and Lex had also collapsed within the same time frame as the rest of them. She didn’t understand it. </p><p>They’d all been fine. </p><p>All of the medical tests that they’d regularly undergone following their attacks back in February hadn’t shown anything abnormal or worrisome. Their conditions had been normal, and they’d certainly never complained of anything other than those strange dreams, and even then, those weren’t nearly as frequent as she thought would have been worrisome.</p><p>She should have noticed how bad things were getting, even if there weren’t many indicators to show her that something was wrong. </p><p>Love Lies Bleeding. </p><p>The image of the red, strange-looking flowers appeared in her mind, almost as clearly as they had appeared when she’d had that dream with Jane all of those months ago.</p><p>Whatever it was that her and Paul’s shared daydream dimension was, it had a really fucking sick sense of humor.</p><p>Her love had been bleeding on their bathroom floor and she’d been unable to stand there uselessly while it happened. </p><p>Tim had stopped crying a few moments earlier, one of his arms stretched out to hold Becky’s hand while his other hand held hers. He’d not said much since he and Becky had come in, following the stretcher that carried Tom, looking exactly like Paul had when he’d collapsed. </p><p>In some ways, she was reminded of how terrible it had felt when they’d all been in this position all of those months ago like it was a sick repeat of the terrifying ordeal they’d all suffered. </p><p>She couldn’t stop the churning in her stomach, feeling like her baby could sense the pain and panic that made itself known. Her leg was shaking, and her hands felt so cold, she couldn’t understand it. </p><p>Sitting a few chairs down from her was Alice, who was sleeping fitfully in Deb’s arms. Apparently, Xander had been tasked with alerting them to the problem and had been in the process of getting Bill, before Bill collapsed. Deb, however, had been there when Lucy collapsed in the residential warehouse, the two of them being neighbors. Of course, Becky had been there when Tom collapsed, Tim apparently half-asleep and eavesdropping on a conversation she, Tom, and John were having before his father collapsed, bleeding and unconscious as the others, which had brought them all there. Ethan and Hannah, however, had been spared the pain of watching Lex collapse, since they’d found her in that state. That didn’t make the situation any less painful, but she was grateful that they didn’t have to watch as it happened. </p><p>The silence was broken only by Hannah’s inaudible whispering, her body shaking as she sat up straight beside Ethan, whose eyes were red and puffy. Emma’s heart broke for the little girl. She and Tim were the youngest in their family, with the exception of her and Paul’s unborn child, and they’d seen so much pain and trauma. She was brought back to the desperation to protect Tim that she’d felt when they’d been trapped in the caves, back when she’d been writing mental letters to Paul in hopes that somewhere out there in the world he could hear them. Eventually, he had heard them...but something told her that he was beyond any place where she might reach him. </p><p>In the end, it was Becky who broke the silence, her exhausted voice was shaky and lacking the optimism that had made Becky Barnes, well...Becky Barnes.</p><p>“Th-They were fine,” she whispered, sounding like she was holding back every emotion known to man, “They were fine. How could this have happened?” </p><p>Ethan sighed and shrugged, his own voice raw from emotion, “I dunno…” </p><p>“Trapped,” Hannah whispered mournfully, “Waiting.”</p><p>Emma sighed and leaned her head back against the wall, “How could we not have seen this coming?”</p><p>Becky glanced over at her, “You did everything you could…”</p><p>“Obviously not!” she exclaimed with a humorless laugh, “If we had just done something they’d be okay...they’d not...they wouldn’t…” she sighed and took a deep breath, trying so desperately to hold back the tears that tried to make themselves known to her. </p><p>“Not your fault,” Hannah whispered, her eyes staring blankly ahead, “No blame.”</p><p>Somehow, Emma couldn’t find it in her heart to believe the girl. She and Hidgens had been tasked with analyzing everything related to those attacks. Be it bloodwork, cerebrospinal fluid, urine, tissue samples, autopsy reports, toxicology results, or anything remotely related to the attacks, she and Hidgens were supposed to be the ones to locate any anomalies. And if what was happening around them was any indication, they’d failed. </p><p>She’d failed. </p><p>And now the person she loved more than anything else was suffering because of it.</p><p>Her head had started to hurt, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the baby, or because she was stifling all of her pain, trying to keep it all together for the sake of the others. She wondered if her baby knew what was happening. If it understood that their father could be dying because of what she’d done. She was trying so hard not to think fatalistically, and yet, every time she found her mind wandering to Paul, she found herself looking at the entry doors to the main infirmary and wondering if he was dead.</p><p>Suddenly, the doors to the main infirmary opened, and a weary-looking Hidgens stepped out, his usual flawless appearance looking tainted by exhaustion and emotion she couldn’t understand. </p><p>His eyes landed on her and he moved to stand in front of her, “Emma…”</p><p>“What’s happening?” she demanded of him. “What happened to them?” </p><p>“Wish I could say,” He whispered, looking regretful, “But I can’t tell you anything until the General and Major return.”</p><p>“But you do know something?” she asked, imploring silently with him, “Hidgens please…”</p><p>“Is my Dad alive?” Tim whispered, his big brown eyes filled with tears.</p><p>“I-” Hidgens began. </p><p>“What about mine?” Alice asked, snapping up from where she’d been dozing against Deb, “Or Lucy?” </p><p>“And Lexi?” Ethan asked, his voice broken. </p><p>Hidgens looked incredibly regretful and uncomfortable, looking down with a sigh, “They’re all alive.”</p><p>A small collective sigh left everyone in the room, except for Emma...she knew that the fact that they were alive was the bare minimum when it came to situations like this. They were alive, yes...but what else was there to worry about? What was Hidgens keeping from them?</p><p>“That’s all I can give you for now,” Hidgens whispered, “But I have to wait for the General and Major before I say anything else.”</p><p>The man sat down with a sigh after casting an apologetic look at everyone in the room. For whatever reason, Emma found herself feeling sorry for the man. Even if they were still uncertain of where the man’s allegiance lay, he was still trying to help them. Emma could usually read people very well, and this was certainly no exception. In some ways, she could see the hopelessness in the man’s eyes, the same kind of powerlessness that she felt.</p><p>“You okay?” he whispered, looking back at her.</p><p>She scoffed, stifling the tears, “What do you think?” </p><p>“Sorry,” he looked back down, “It’s truly been a taxing evening on all of you.”</p><p>“You think? She sighed, rubbing at her eyes and breathing deeply trying to keep the tears at bay, “How could we have missed this?” </p><p>Hidgens sighed, “I wish I knew, Emma...truly I do.”</p><p>As much as every instinct in Emma’s body insisted that she get angry with him, that she should yell and fight and demand that he explain what had happened to Paul, she couldn’t find the strength to do so. All she felt was tired.</p><p>She wanted Paul to be okay. </p><p>She wanted him to be alive and well, and back to whatever normal state they could manage. </p><p>She wanted to go back to that brief moment of peace that they’d shared, just before the world had seemingly crashed down around them. She’d felt so warm, so at peace in his arms, in the domesticity of it all. The peace she’d felt as they prepared to go to sleep was something she’d wanted to be feeling for the rest of her life. </p><p>She wanted him to be in her life until it ended. </p><p>It was funny. There’d been a moment before everything had gone to shit where she’d considered seriously asking him to marry her. </p><p>It was strange that such a thought could pop out of the blue in her mind. In fact, she’d never considered herself the marrying type. Just in that moment of peace and quiet and warmth, with him holding her, staring at her with so much love, the idea popped into her head. It was spontaneous and all at once, the thought just filling her and making her feel like she should ask. Of course, she didn’t have a ring to offer him or anything like that, but she could’ve taken care of that later. At that moment, she’d wanted nothing else but him, with only herself to offer in return.</p><p>So what had stopped her? </p><p>Usually, when it came to spontaneous things like this, Emma was a spitfire. She was probably two seconds away from popping the question before his nose had started bleeding, but something else had stopped her. Something she couldn’t explain. </p><p>She figured it was because she didn’t want to make him feel like he had to marry her because he’d knocked her up, or something like that, and she didn’t want to pressure him into doing anything big, especially with as easily flustered as he was. Hell, if she’d asked him to marry her right then and there, he probably would have had a heart attack right then and there. </p><p>Still...it was strange that she’d realized how much she wanted him to be in her life. </p><p>Permanently. </p><p>As long as he would have her. </p><p>Hell, she’d never had a real family. Sure, she had Jane and her shitty excuses for parents, but she’d never had a  <em> family. </em>It wasn’t until she’d let Paul into her life that things started to look up for her in that regard. He’d helped her find her way to Tim and Tom, supporting her and not letting her run the other way when confronting them was something that scared her. In some ways, he’d helped her heal all the still-raw wounds of her childhood and Jane’s death. Heck, she was literally going to start a family with him in a few month’s time….and she didn’t find herself scared about it.</p><p>But now she was terrified.</p><p>The doors to the main infirmary opened again, making everyone jump up to their feet as John and Xander walked out, the both of them looking terrified and exhausted. They were followed by Dr. McMurray and Dr. Abadi, who also wore grave expressions, but carried themselves in the usual manner of professionalism. </p><p>John cleared his throat, “Okay, guys, as you’re all aware, we’re here due to unforeseen complications in the health of your loved ones due to what transpired on February seventh.”</p><p>“No shit, Johnny,” Ethan whispered, leaning up against the wall and holding Hannah close to his side. </p><p>John sighed, “I’m going to pass the talking stick over to Dr. Kamaria Abadi, who will shed some light on the situation.”</p><p>With another heavy sigh, John gestured to the woman behind him, who stepped forward, straightening her lab coat. With a sickening thud in Emma’s stomach, she realized that the woman had bloodstains on what was usually pristine white material. </p><p>“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Kamaria began, her voice official and almost apologetic, “At approximately midnight tonight, Mr. Ted Spankoffski, who attacked your loved ones during the attacks on February seventh, coded. We managed to get his pulse back and stabilize him, but not before we noticed some stark differences in his vitals. Unlike his usual comatose state, his heart rate was spiking, with elevated brain activity, though we were unable to get any response out of him. It was then that I summoned my wife, Dr. Phillipa Kirk, who is now tending to your loved ones, as well as General McNamara and Major Lee. Shortly thereafter, we were joined by Professor Henry Hidgens, who determined that the source of Spankoffski’s ailment had come from the mysterious substance that was inserted at the base of his skull during the February seventh attacks. Because of this, Major Lee and General McNamara went out in hopes of retrieving your loved ones before they could demonstrate any of the symptoms. As anticipated, all of the above patients exhibited a severe nosebleed as well as a web-like black infection around the injection site on the neck.”</p><p>Alice laughed bitterly, “Where the fuck did that come from? Why are we just now finding out about this?”</p><p>“I understand your frustration, Miss Woodward,” John began softly, “Trust me when I say that we wish we all had this all under control. The only solid conclusion we can now form is that they’re all comatose. Exhibiting similar vitals with a few exceptions, they appear to be deep in some kind of active state of mind...but Professor Hidgens will explain that later.”</p><p>Ethan raised his hand, “Did you determine what’s actually wrong with them?” </p><p>Xander sighed, “Professor Hidgens presented us with a few theories, but he said one of them is the more likely-”</p><p>“And,” Hidgens interrupted with dramatic gusto, “It is up to the little girl to determine whether or not it is true.”</p><p>He turned to Hannah, whose eyes were puffy and filled with tears, “My girl, can you help me, please?” </p><p>Ethan put a protective arm around Hannah, his mouth drawn back in a snarl, “Like hell, I’m letting you come near her, old man.”</p><p>“Ethan…” Xander sighed, “Please.”</p><p>Without any words, Hannah stepped forward, ignoring Ethan’s silent protests. She stood in front of Hidgens, her puffy brown eyes staring up at him. </p><p>With a heavy sigh, Hidgens knelt before the little girl, getting to be eye level with her. Rather than looking at her dramatically, Emma noted that the man just looked...defeated. </p><p>“You know what it is that I’m thinking?” he asked her. </p><p>She nodded. </p><p>“You were visited by the spider…” he asked softly, “Weren’t you?” </p><p>There was a flash of hesitancy in her eyes before she nodded again. </p><p>He sighed, “I’m sorry...she should leave children such as you out of her war.”</p><p>A scoff came from Ethan on the other side of the room, but neither Hidgens nor Hannah moved, nor did they waver. </p><p>Hidgens inhaled and exhaled, “Am I right?” </p><p>There was a pause, a moment of silence in which Hannah just stared at the man, her deep eyes taking him in as she contemplated his question. Seconds ticked by as the two just stared at each other, before the silence was broken by a single word. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Hidgens cursed under his breath and stood, the anticipation in the room growing. </p><p>“Yes, what?” Ethan asked, “What the hell does that mean?” </p><p>Professor Hidgens sighed and turned to face the members of the room, his face filled with regret and pain. </p><p>“It seems,” he began, “Your loved ones were injected with a substance concocted by the spider herself.”</p><p>“Venom,” Hannah nodded, “Tinky’s bastard delivered it.”</p><p>“Why?” Alice asked, her voice shaky, “Wh-What does it do?” </p><p>Hidgens sighed again before delivering the most damning words imaginable.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid your loved ones have been trapped in Nightmare Time.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a moment of silence, before the words sunk in. Emma felt like she couldn’t breathe. </p><p>The metaphysical forest in which someone’s worst nightmare was revealed to them. A nightmare that could result in death if one wasn’t careful.</p><p>A nightmare that Paul was now trapped in. </p><p>She shuddered when she thought about all of the recent nightmares that Paul had been having...all of those dreams in which he would wake up crying or holding onto her like she was the only thing tying him to reality. </p><p>She felt sick the longer she thought about it. </p><p>“N-Nightmare Time?” Alice asked, “Wh-What...what is that?” </p><p>“I’m afraid,” Hidgens began, “It’s a prison of sorts...a dimension which traps you in your own worst nightmare...Webby’s venom can condemn people to dwell there...any normal soul would be dead within moments of inoculation with it, but for some reason, your loved ones remain alive.”</p><p>“Then we can get them out,” Becky offered, “Right? There’s gotta be a way to save them!”</p><p>Emma looked at Henry hopefully, “Right? We can find a way to save them...right? There’s still hope…”</p><p>Henry sighed, “We can try...but right now we don’t know of any way to get them back.”</p><p>Alice unleashed a horrible sob at the man’s words, burying her face in Deb’s shoulder. Tim squeezed her hand before crawling over to wrap himself in Becky’s comforting embrace. </p><p>Emma wanted to cry. </p><p>She wanted to scream. </p><p>She felt like she wanted to get sick and crawl into a hole. </p><p>There had to be hope. </p><p>She couldn’t lose these people. </p><p>She couldn’t lose <em> Paul. </em></p><p>Silent tears dripped down her face without her consent as her mind spun. How could this be? How could they be presented with this and have no hope? They’d been through so many impossible positions before...so how </p><p>“C-Can…” Tim whispered, “Can we see them?”</p><p>Dr. Abadi’s face softened, “Yes...but only for a little bit. We have them all in the same ward, but mind you, it’s not going to look pretty.”</p><p>Tim stood, pulling Becky with him, “I want my Dad.”</p><p>John nodded softly, “If you’ll all follow me...I can take you to them.”</p><p>Emma felt as if she wasn’t in control of her own body as she stood, walking slowly behind everyone as they filed out of the waiting room and into the hallway. She felt like dragging her feet as she walked slowly, feeling like she was part of a funeral procession rather than a visitation. </p><p>As they made their way through the labyrinthine hallways of the infirmary, the shades of light blue and white seemingly fading to grey as they got deeper and deeper into it, she ran a hand gently over her stomach, wishing she could hold Paul’s hand. Wishing she had the strength for this. Still, she knew if she didn’t see them, she was going to regret it. If she didn’t see just what the spider bitch had done to him, to all of them, she was going to hate herself for it. She couldn’t live with not knowing. </p><p>They came to a stop before a set of double doors, and Emma immediately recognized one of the quarantine bays. The place where they’d all been kept when they’d broken through the barrier and returned to their loved ones. God, why did that seem so long ago?</p><p>Dr. McMurray stood in front of the doors, addressing them all with a grave expression, “You must understand that all of your loved ones are in a very fragile state right now. We don’t know enough about their conditions to make a clear conclusion about what’s happening to them, or enough to know what contact with them would do to you. Because of this, we’ve put them in their own pod, and we ask that you simply look,” she sighed and her eyes softened with regret, “I understand how difficult this will be, but we ask that you comply with us until we’ve figured out more...understood?” </p><p>Everyone managed to give the woman a tired nod before she pulled open the doors. </p><p>They were greeted by a strong wave of an antiseptic smell, which seemed to overwhelm Emma’s senses and made her feel like she was about to vomit. She couldn’t believe this. Part of her cursed herself for feeling so weak as people began to quietly filter into the bay. She could handle this. She was strong. She needed to know what had happened to them. </p><p>With a deep breath, she found herself following them into the quarantine bay. </p><p>The first thing she’d noticed was how much larger than the other quarantine bay this one was, and how the sterile scent of it matched the clean white color scheme despite the dim blue lighting. </p><p>At first, it looked like six large plastic cubes had been lined up along the walls, lit only by some form of white light, but when she saw Alice let out a sob and run towards one, she noticed the hospital beds that were inside them and the figures that were within. As she walked, she took note of Bill, who was closest to the door, and Ted, who was across from them. Both of them had breathing tubes in their mouths and several monitors surrounding them. Alice was up against the plastic curtain-like barrier separating her from her father, Deb rubbing her shoulders as the girl sobbed. Emma fought back against tears of her own as she kept walking. </p><p>Next to Bill, with a painful twist in her heart, she recognized Lucy, who had nobody at her barrier crying for her, except for John and Xander who were discussing her condition with Phillipa, but looked just as awful as Bill and Ted. Her eyes were sealed shut and her brown hair was tossed about her pillow. Had it not been for the medical equipment that surrounded her, Emma would have thought the woman was a Disney Princess. Across from her, next to Ted, was Lex, who had Ethan and Hannah kneeling in front of the plastic barrier, Ethan sobbing into Hannah’s shoulder as the young girl looked onward, stoically. </p><p>Next to Lex, she had to stifle a gasp as she recognized Tom, Tim crying at the barrier as Becky held him, his small sobs making every shake of his tiny body all the more evident. She paused for a moment as she took in the form of her strong brother-in-law, laying there helplessly behind the plastic curtained barrier, a breathing tube stuffed down his throat. He looked so helpless...so unlike the tough Tom Houston, she’d come to know. With a sickening twist in her stomach, she realized there was only one person left to go.</p><p>Slowly, she turned around, forcing herself to face the final cube and its inevitable inhabitant. </p><p>At first, she didn’t catch sight of him, and she felt like for a moment she’d been misled. Maybe Paul hadn’t been one of the victims after all. Maybe he was okay and awake, and sitting up in bed...but when she noticed the lump of wires and tubes, her stomach sank, and she fought the urge to throw up as she approached the cube. </p><p>It was undoubtedly him. </p><p>Though his eyes were closed and he was covered in tubes and wires and all sorts of life support machines that she couldn’t identify, she knew it was him.</p><p>Tears dripped from her eyes as she took him in, how still he looked. The dark circles under his eyes made him look like he was a corpse rather than a person, and although she’d seen him looking healthy and well less than half an hour ago, he looked like he might as well have been dead. </p><p>She fought back against the painful memories of when he’d been infected, just after Lex and Hannah had pulled him back into reality as she looked at him. </p><p>He was trapped in a prison of his own making. Somewhere where she couldn’t reach him. She stifled a small sob as she looked at him.</p><p>God, why did this keep happening to them? Why couldn’t the moments of peace last without the undertones of death and destruction surrounding them? </p><p>She wiped at her tears, just staring at him. Whatever it was that the spider bitch had done to him, she was going to fix it. No matter what she had to do, no matter who she had to fight, she would save him. She would do everything she could to save all of them. </p><p>“His vitals are weaker than the others.”</p><p>She turned around, wiping at her tears as she did, to see Hidgens, his face grave. </p><p>“What?” she whispered, not knowing why he found it necessary to inform her of this, “Why?” </p><p>“We don’t know,” Hidgens sighed, “But we will…”</p><p>She scoffed and his eyes softened. </p><p>“Emma…” he began, “I know you don’t trust me...Believe me, I can’t blame you for it…”</p><p>She scoffed again, turning her gaze back to Paul’s weak form.</p><p>“But I promise,” Hidgens began, “I will do anything in my power to-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fix this!” </em></p><p> </p><p>They all turned around as the small sound of Hannah’s desperate voice echoed through the bay. </p><p>“Fix this!” she was shouting “Find them! Find Lexi! I can find Lexi!”</p><p>Hidgens turned to Emma raising an eyebrow, “What does she-”</p><p>
  <em> “Hannah, no!” </em>
</p><p>Emma hadn’t even registered Ethan’s scream before she saw Hannah’s small form scramble away from him, lifting up the transparent curtain that separated her from her sister.</p><p>“Hannah!” John shouted, sprinting for Lex’s containment pod. </p><p>“<em> Someone stop her! </em>” Hidgens shouted. </p><p>“Hannah, no!” Emma screamed, starting to run for the pod, “Stop!”</p><p> She couldn’t lose Hannah too...not after they’d lost so many people.</p><p>Before anyone could even begin to react, Hannah had made it into Lex’s pod and looked at them, a self-assured expression on her face as they scrambled to get the curtains open and get her out. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>We can fix this,</em>” she said, her eyes wide.</p><p>In her eyes, Emma could see emotion that everyone seemed to lack.</p><p>Determination.</p><p>Strength. </p><p>Hope.</p><p>Fearlessness.</p><p>“<em>Save them.</em>” </p><p> </p><p>It was then, that Hannah reached out and grabbed Lex’s hand. </p><p>Almost instantly, the whites of the girl’s eyes turned black, eliciting a fearful cry from Ethan. </p><p>“Hannah!” he sobbed, trying to tear at the curtains desperately as Xander held him fast, “No!” </p><p>Emma couldn’t believe what she was seeing as a black web-like pattern began to spread from under the girl’s eyes, making the little girl’s body go rigid. Lights began to flicker on and off, making panicked screams come from the conscious people in the room. </p><p>Then, Hannah let go of Lex’s hand and slumped to the ground. Limp as a ragdoll. </p><p>Everyone looked at each other with wide teary eyes. </p><p>“W-what…” Ethan sobbed, “What did she do...<em> What did she do?!?” </em></p><p>And nobody had an answer for him. </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> “The witch in the web is ancient, that means I know her well...she certainly tests my patience from within her Black and White cell...I can throw away the keys now, but that’s not me...oh no. See a witch is a witch for a reason until you let her go…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah smiled softly to herself as she finished the song. Although Webby had been absent from her mind for so long, the songs remained. The songs that her friend had left her to protect her. She ran her hand gently over the polished white wood of the ukulele that Lex had gotten her all of those months ago...her prized possession.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed softly the longer she looked at the instrument. Much like the song had been a gift to her, the ukulele had been.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And both had been from absent friends.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lex was gone...she didn’t know where she’d gone but judging from the way. Mr. Duke looked at her it was no good.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Webby was gone too. Her only friend other than Lex and Ethan, missing from her life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still, whatever had happened to Lex and Webby...her family... she’d know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And maybe she could find them. </em>
</p><p><em> She </em> would <em> find them. </em></p><p>
  <em> One day. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry :)</p><p>Webby needs to LEAVE HANNAH ALONE.</p><p>Paul loves Emma, and even though he's trapped in a prison of his own mind, he still loves her with everything he has.</p><p>Tom is a good father. </p><p>Give Emma Perkins a hug 2021.</p><p>Well...Hannah certainly made her choice...wonder what she knows. </p><p>Now that seven of them are in Nightmare Time, who knows what's going to happen?</p><p>Please leave a comment or kudos if you would like! I'm so sorry this chapter ended up being really long, but I am very glad that I ended up splitting them, because then it would have been around 20k words and I DID NOT want to subject y'all to that, but these might have been one of my favorite chapters to write for this fic.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!<br/>Please stay safe and healthy!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. A Shadow Moves and Disappears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They try to make sense after being shattered.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So...originally, this chapter was 12k words when I first finished writing it, but I managed to cut 2k words from it and it's gonna go in the next chapter...so I've already made great progress with the next one lol. I'm really excited for this arc (I know I've said it before, but DAMN!! I'LL SAY IT AGAIN!! I'M SO EXCITED AHHHH)</p><p>This chapter title comes from the song "City Lights" by Paul Taneja. </p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Blood, panic, mentions of murder, identity theft, panic, Tim is sad, Ethan is sad, actually...you know what, they're all sad...I'm making that a trigger now, spider bitch.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Lucy had to hold back a gasp as the car pulled through the dense wood to reveal a lovely gothic manor nestled deep into the witchwood, a small break in the dense forests revealed a lovely large expanse of land with a crystal clear pond at the center, as well as what looked like a horse stable. To be honest, she wasn’t sure Hatchetfield was a large enough island to have estates like this. As a large gate swung open, the barbed wire looking funny against the elegant filigree railing, she turned to the Professor, who was seated nicely beside her. In some ways, as they pulled onto the estate, she found that the greenery of the forest itself looked darker, almost reminding her of the imagery from the Poisonwood Bible, with the thick and lush vines overlapping, making it seem like it was less of a forest of birch and sycamore, but rather a lush and lively jungle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You live here?” she asked him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nodded, “It’s a family home. My family might not have been one of the oldest families in Hatchetfield, but this estate is certainly one of the grandest.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How long has your family been in Hatchetfield?” she asked, “I believe the town itself was founded in 1824...if I remember correctly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That is correct,” the man nodded, “My family has been in Hatchetfield since 1892 when my family moved here from England. My great grandfather was an architect who could barter for land like the best of them. He built this house for his family. It would have been passed down to my Aunt Barbara after my parents died, but she took up a job with the CIA.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The central intelligence Agency?” Lucy smiled, thoroughly intrigued.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” Hidgens nodded, “If we had the time, Ma’am, I could tell you so many stories about what my family has done with the government, but frankly, that’s not why we’re here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled. In some ways, this old man intrigued her. He was so poised, so put together.  Every word he used was so elegant it was almost as if he’d rehearsed it before he’d spoken. Almost as if he’d been given a script to his life before he was born. Something told her he would have made a fantastic actor had science not been his passion as he proclaimed. They’d made small talk as they’d driven to the edge of town, Hidgens informing her of the basis of his studies, his fascination with the Witchwoods, in particular. In some ways, the fact that the man believed in the strangeness and beauty of the Witchwood was enough to make her believe that for once she’d truly found a kindred spirit. Never mind that he was a little bit odd. Most elderly people she’d met were somewhat interesting, and Hidgens was certainly no exception.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Of course,” she nodded, “So...what exactly is it, that you wanted to show me?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Patience, my dear,” the man nodded, “We must wait till we get into the house...but you’ll never believe it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why can’t you tell me now?” she further inquired, feeling somewhat impatient.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, Miss Stockworth,” the man shrugged, “I suppose you could say...it’s for the drama!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, the man sat back in his seat as the car pulled forward.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And for whatever reason, Lucy found herself excited beyond imagination. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Rupert parked the car, Hidgens opened the door for her and she found herself staring up at the gothic architecture that made up Hidgens home. The mere size of it nearly rivaled her own family estate back in England. The house was old from the looks of it, with several vines of dark ivy twisting up the somewhat weathered stone that built up the rather imposing form of the house. Had this been an adventure novel, this kind of house would either be haunted or hosting something dark and mysterious. Nevertheless, the more she looked at it, the more she was filled with a thrill. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pulled open the large black double doors with fancy bronze knockers in intricate patterns, revealing a lovely foyer. The house seemed to be painted in lovely silver light as she entered the crisp white foyer with lovely pillars and a checkerboard tile floor. The large windows were decked with green velvet drapes, and a grand staircase extended before her, making it evident that the house itself was great in size. As she glanced up at the intricate crown molding decorating the ceiling of the foyer she found herself staring in awe.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So,” she began, “You live alone out here?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Until recently, yes,” the Professor spoke, taking her coat and hanging it in a nearby coat closet, “I find isolation conducive to my work.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, still overwhelmed by the dramatic splendor of the house, “And what work would that be, Professor?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> The white-haired man smiled at her for a moment, throwing her off. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> In his eyes, she swore she could see something dark flash across his vision. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Why did something about this not feel right? </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He smiled, snapping her free of her sudden apprehension, and he began to lead her through the foyer and deeper into the house, passing through some intricately decorated house, the photographs and paintings all peering down on her in judgment. Some of them depicted fields of darkly-colored flowers, others, a farmhouse, and some depicted the Witchwoods, all of them haunting and lovely in their detail. In some ways, the intricate glass windows cast lovely shadows with twisting patterns resembling delicate spiderwebs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am a biologist,” he smiled, “I study the indigenous fauna of these woods. Nighthawks. Timberwolves. Bears even.” He paused before looking at her over his shoulder, “But what I found in one of my traps thirteen months ago...was no bear.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He continued to lead her through the hallways, passing through what looked like a music room of sorts, with a grand piano in one corner. He spoke as he showed her through the room, “When I shaved the creature to treat a wound it was nursing, I found something that defies our current scientific understanding.” he turned to her, a wild grin on his face as he got more and more excited, “A lost hominid species! The missing link between Homo erectus and Homo sapien. He may now lack his thick, black fur, but I’m curious, Miss Stockworth…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He turned to face her, his eyes wide and an even wider grin on his face, “Could you help me identify him?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy stopped in her tracks as she considered the implications  of the Professor’s words, “Wooly-Foot?” her heart pounded in her chest, her voice almost breaking in an excited squeak that she tried to conceal, “Professor, are you telling me you’ve found the Hatchetfield Ape-Man?”  </em>
</p><p><em> “No, Lucy,” he grinned as he came to a stop, “ </em> You’re <em> going to have to tell me what I’ve found. Is your savior behind this door?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> He gestured to a large antique vault door. Judging from the large windows that surrounded them, she could see the outline of a grand greenhouse just outside, filled with thick and lush greenery. Hidgens placed his hands on the big brass door and began to twist it with satisfying clunking noises.  Lucy could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-” she began, unwilling to believe that this was truly happening, “I can see him?”  </em>
</p><p><em> “That’s why you’re here,” the Professor smiled, “Now, before we enter the enclosure, I must warn you. In his shaved state, he looks very much like a man. But he is </em> not. <em> He is a wild animal, and he is dangerous.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Lucy nodded eagerly, “I understand.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Promise me!” Hidgens began with a dramatic gusto, “You’ll never let your guard down.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy shook her head, feeling like her heart was about to beat out of her chest, “I won’t.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens placed his hand on the handle of the vault door, before tossing his head back at her dramatically, “And promise me one more thing, Lucy...Whatever you do…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He paused, tossing a dramatic glance at the door before looking back at her, “Don’t fall in love with him.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She offered him a brief nod, already too excited to wait any longer. She felt as though she were a child on Christmas morning, waiting to open up the biggest present under the tree. Only, there was a chance that this was something she’d been asking Santa for, for the majority of her life.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She inhaled and exhaled deeply as the Professor pulled the door open, her heart leaping in her chest.  </em>
</p><p>Here we go, Lucy,<em> she thought to herself, </em>This is it.</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 25th</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>John couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t believe the horror that was unfolding before him. It had been a total of forty-seven minutes since Ted had first coded, and now there were more casualties than he would have liked to admit. </p><p>And now Hannah had joined them.</p><p>Seven people. </p><p>Seven people had been taken by Webby’s wrath. </p><p>And a child had joined them by her own will. </p><p>He watched uselessly as the nurses and orderlies lifted Hannah’s body gently, moving another hospital bed into the pod with Lex, knowing that the two should be kept together.</p><p>Hannah looked so still, so tired...so weightless as the nurses placed her in a bed, prompting a sob from Ethan who was curled up in Becky’s arms as he watched, the woman softly rubbing his back as he cried. John’s heart ached for the boy. He’d suffered so much in these past few months and things didn’t seem to be getting any better. It didn’t seem to be improving in any way. Life just kept on taking and taking from them. </p><p>He paced around the room, looking at all of the victims. </p><p>All of them had been under his supervision as General of PEIP.</p><p>The fact that they’d been attacked and targeted in this manner was unacceptable. </p><p>He’d failed in his duty to protect them. </p><p>And now they were paying the price for it that they didn’t deserve to pay. </p><p>As Kamaria and Phillipa finished setting up Hannah’s bed within Lex’s pod, the two sisters together in their space, John sighed and turned to the other people in the room. </p><p>Ethan was still being held by Becky as he sobbed, unable to tear his eyes away from Hannah and Lex where they lay. Tim was nearby, holding onto Emma as she tried to calm the boy down, his eyes darting between Lucy, his Dad, and Paul. The small boy was shaking as his aunt tried to calm herself down, evidently holding back tears as she stared at Paul, a strangely haunted look in her eyes. The Woodward girl and her girlfriend were pacing back and forth together, trying to calm one another down before the doctors could tell them anything regarding the A few feet away from them, Professor Hidgens was discussing things in hushed words with Xander, the both of them looking exhausted as they surveyed the seven victims.  </p><p>They all looked lost, disconnected. All of them experiencing a great amount of pain and confusion all at once as some of the most important people in their lives were suffering and they had no idea how to save them. </p><p>It was then that Becky spoke up. </p><p>“Wh-What’s happening to them?” she whispered, her voice raw, “I mean...we know they’re in Nightmare Time...but what’s happening to them, exactly?” </p><p>John sighed. He honestly felt like he was way out of his league with this. No matter how much they understood about the Black and White, this was a whole different level of misunderstanding. In some ways, they were facing a new weapon presented to them by the enemy. </p><p>Nightmare Time. </p><p>When they’d first heard of it, they’d described it as a metaphysical forest of some sort, in which the victims were presented with their own personal nightmare. According to Hidgens in the months before, it was capable of sending normal people into cardiac arrest, and while all of the affected people that were before him now had elevated heart rates...was Hidgens implying that they weren’t normal?</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Hidgens was muttering, smoothing his silver hair over as he paced, “It doesn’t make any sense…”</p><p>“What doesn’t?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“Well…” the old man looked around them, gesturing to the cube-shaped pods and the inhabitants within, “All of this doesn’t make sense! Why these specific victims? Why Nightmare Time? And why these specific victims? It doesn’t make any sense at all…”</p><p>John nodded. Hidgens was right when it came to acknowledging how difficult it was to identify a pattern or a meaning behind what had happened. There were several connections between the victims themselves, but each connection was almost independent of one another, and in some ways, that made reasoning seem to seep out. </p><p>
  <em> “Then let’s make it make sense.” </em>
</p><p>Everyone turned to Emma, who was still holding her nephew. Though she looked like she was exhausted and fervently holding back tears, there was a look of fury in her eyes that John couldn’t ignore.  A fury that made it look like the woman herself was about to tear apart the world to get back those that had been lost to them. </p><p>“Wh-what?” Ethan sniffled, “What do you mean?” </p><p>Emma sighed, “You said it didn’t make sense, so let’s make sense of it.” </p><p>Xander raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“We missed something,” Emma spoke clearly and assertively, “We have to have missed something for this to happen…” she trailed off as she very pointedly avoided looking at Paul, “So what was it? What did we overlook?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Xander sighed, moving closer to the woman, Hidgens following, “Emma, we went through every sample possible, checked anything that could have indicated-”</p><p>“Obviously we didn’t!” she snapped, “If we did...this wouldn’t have happened!”</p><p>She wavered for a second as her eyes landed on Paul again. John couldn’t even begin to imagine how much anguish she was experiencing at that moment. She and Paul had been ripped apart so many times, and it wasn’t their fault. It was happening again, and he could see in Emma’s eyes that she was truly afraid about this being the final chance they would get.</p><p>She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled deeply, “Let’s just think about what we know...please...there must be something.”</p><p>John sighed and eyed Xander, looking for something to give Emma. As he looked at the people standing before him, he knew how desperate they were for answers. It made sense that Emma would definitely be the one to jump headfirst into trying to solve this. </p><p>“Come on,” Emma sighed, “Let’s get the notebooks, let’s get a whiteboard...at the very least, let’s look at the facts.”</p><p>Xander sighed and turned to John, “We do need to regroup. It couldn’t hurt to stay and go over what we have ”</p><p>John nodded. He couldn’t deny the fact that they had little to no facts involving the situation, but they did have personal accounts of what had happened, they had qualified doctors who could give them some form of analysis on the status of all the patients, and they knew where their friends were trapped. The tough part was figuring out what was the point behind their being trapped in Nightmare Time, as well as a way of getting them out. </p><p>He turned to Becky, “If you want to take Tim back to the apartment…”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>He turned to see the shaking little boy, moving away from his aunt, wiping tears furiously from his eyes.<br/>“I’m st-staying,” the boy whispered, his eyes determined, “I want to find out what happened to m-my Dad.”</p><p>“Tim…” John whispered, “You might not like what you see…”</p><p>“So?” Tim asked, standing a little taller, “Mackie, we’ve already been through so much...I-I can’t just...not care.”</p><p>The boy nodded to himself at his words, wiping at his eyes as he stared up at John, “I wanna help my Dad...and Uncle Paul, and Miss Lucy...and Lexi and Hannah...I wanna help them all.”</p><p>John sighed and looked up at Emma, who was looking down at her nephew with a look of both shock and pride. As the boy retreated to hug her, she looked up and nodded at John, assuring him that it was okay for the boy to remain with them. </p><p>“I wanna stay too,” he turned to see Alice Woodward, wiping at her eyes, “We couldn’t make it to that meeting last week...but I wanna stay and help.” </p><p>She cast a glance back at her father, the man closest to the door before wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, “I owe it to my Dad and Uncle Paul to try…”</p><p>John could admire the fact that the adolescent people on base were determined to help, no matter the risk. The fact remained that their loyalty definitely kept them bonded to those they loved, and with these people, that was certainly no exception. </p><p>He looked at Xander and nodded, “Grab the whiteboard,” he nodded before looking back at Emma, “We’re gonna go over what we know as a form of regrouping...and tomorrow we’ll get set on a game plan after we get some rest.”</p><p>Emma chuckled bitterly, her eyes weary “You think I’m gonna get any sleep after this?” </p><p>“You should,” he looked down, casting one more glance at Paul. He didn’t even want to try to convince her to take it slow, but he knew it was necessary. Though he knew how fiercely she and Paul loved one another, he also knew that Paul wouldn’t have wanted her to overwork herself. For both her sake and their unborn child, “You don’t just have Paul to worry about, you know.”</p><p>She nodded, one of her hands softly going to her stomach, “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop, John.”</p><p>“I know,” he sighed, “But now is not the time for you to overwork yourself.”</p><p>She chuckled under her breath, “I know, I know...but I’m gonna give everything I can when I can.”</p><p>He knew how true that statement was. He knew how true it was for anybody standing in the room. Regardless of whether or not the people they loved and cared about were connected or not, they would do anything and everything to help them. They’d do what they could to ensure that they were safe. No matter the cost.</p><p>Xander returned from the back of the room, pulling with him a large whiteboard. </p><p>“You might want to grab a few chairs or something,” Xander sighed as he set the whiteboard up, withdrawing a few markers from the small tray at the bottom, “We’re gonna have quite a few things to go over.”</p><p>Once Xander had placed the board, John went around, retrieving some small chairs that the doctors must have brought in for bedside observation, offering them to the people in the room as he placed them in a circle around the whiteboard.</p><p>“Take a seat,” he instructed them, “We’ll try to make this as brief as possible so that you all can go and rest, but Xander and Emma are right in the regard that we need to go over what we know.”</p><p>As people took their seats, all of them ready to acknowledge what they already knew, Hidgens stood. </p><p>“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the board, “I’ve been in Nightmare Time and I can tell you firsthand what I know.”</p><p>Xander nodded, passing him a dry erase marker before sitting beside John. </p><p>“Okay, Professor,” John nodded, ushering the man on in what he knew, “You’re going to have to tell us all that you know about what happened to them.” </p><p>Hidgens inhaled and exhaled sharply, “I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve lectured anyone, but here we go…” </p><p>He uncapped the marker and wrote the words ‘<em> Nightmare Time </em>’ on the board in neat cursive letters. </p><p>“When I died,” Hidgens began, his voice clear and poised, “In 1975...My soul was dragged into the Black and White, just as you know John, Ethan, and…” he sighed, casting an apologetic glance at Emma, “And Paul were trapped as well…”</p><p>Alice raised an eyebrow, “Uncle Paul was in the Black and White? That’s the void everyone keeps talking about, right? Where those creatures came from?” </p><p>John nodded at her, remembering that Alice had not been with them during their first escapades with the Black and White, “Part of this whole issue began because myself, Ethan, and Paul died in past lifetimes, therefore not existing in this one.” </p><p>Alice nodded, “So the rumors about Hatchetfield being stuck in some sort of time loop were true?”</p><p>John turned to Xander, impressed, before turning back to Alice, “You catch on quick, Miss Woodward…” he nodded, “Until recently, Hatchetfield was stuck in a time loop. We believed that it started with…” he paused glancing at Emma and Tim apologetically. </p><p>“Started with what?” Tim asked, “What do you mean, Mackie?”</p><p>John sighed, meeting Emma’s eyes again before finishing the sentence, “We believed that it started with the death of Jane Perkins, and ended with Emma’s.”</p><p>Before anyone could react, Alice chimed in again, clearly paying close attention, “Until recently?” </p><p>John nodded, “Yes...we believe that with Webby’s coming, the rules changed…” he sighed, “To put it simply, Emma died and the world continued moving.” </p><p>“Nor permanently,” Emma reminded him, “I was dead for only...what? A few minutes?”</p><p>“Yes,” John nodded, “But usually a reset occurs the second you died….Paul wouldn’t have had a chance to pull you back at all if a reset was supposed to occur.”</p><p>“Speaking of,” Hidgens continued, “When Jane Perkins died, her soul became entangled with the Black and white...and that was when we both ended up in Nightmare Time...”</p><p>There was a small sob from where Tim was sitting next to Emma, tears filling the boy’s eyes. He sniffled and buried his face in Emma’s shoulder. Emma shot the professor a warning look.</p><p>“Professor,” Emma said carefully, hugging her nephew tighter, “Could you maybe crash course it?”</p><p>His eyes softened and he looked apologetically at the small boy, “I’m sorry...following that event, I met Jane Perkins in the Black and White,” he paused, smiling softly at Tim, “Strong woman...smart too. She understood where she was faster than any of the experts I’d worked with during my first life.”</p><p>John smiled at Hidgens attempting to be sensitive and urged him onward, “And shortly after you met her, you ended up in Nightmare Time?”</p><p>“Yes,” Hidgens nodded, “We didn’t know what triggered it, but suddenly, we weren’t in the Black and White anymore. Rather, we were in a world of our own making...a forest of some sort. Since we were already dead, we weren’t shown our worst nightmares, but we could see those belonging to others. It was almost as if every clearing we reached was a new horror…”</p><p>He shuddered and looked at the floor, “You have no idea what that does to a person’s soul.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as they all shuddered at the implications of his words. In some ways, the harrowing words indicated that the Black and White as well as Nightmare Times were kin in terms of testing the strength of the human soul. To be honest, the fact that neither John nor Ethan had lost themselves before Paul had shown up was astounding to him. </p><p>“What do you mean?” Alice asked meekly, “What does it do to a person’s soul?”</p><p>John could hear the real questions in her voice. </p><p>
  <em> What would happen to the souls of the people they cared about? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Would the people they knew and loved be returned to them? </em>
</p><p>As painful as the question itself was for them to consider, they knew that it had to be asked. As difficult as it would have been to face the truth...they knew that it was a necessity. If they wanted to save them to the best of their ability, they knew they had to consider every possibility. </p><p>Hidgens sighed heavily, “I’ll admit...the things that myself and Jane encountered before we were allowed to escape into Emma and Paul’s pocket dimension were…” he hesitated, biting down on his lower lip, “Difficult...and dark.”</p><p>“How so?” Xander asked, “What kind of things do you think they’ll encounter?”</p><p>Hidgens sighed again, pacing in furious circles as he played with the marker in his hands, “I cannot remember most of it...and it’s different for everyone,” he looked up at all of them, “As I’ve said before, the dimension is a manifestation of that person’s worst nightmare...who knows what they might see?” </p><p>“How can you not remember?” Becky asked, “You were there, and you’re here now…”</p><p>Hidgens pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think you understand what this place does to people...in order for us to escape into the daydream-”</p><p>“Daydream?” Alice raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Hidgens sighed, “To put it simply, Paul and Emma share a romantic soul bond that’s pissed a lot of powerful beings off. In doing so, they managed to create a small pocket dimension outside of both the Black and White, as well as Nightmare Time...only the dimension itself is metaphysical.”</p><p>Alice nodded, “So...It’s not a physical dimension...but a metaphysical domain into which the mind can escape?”</p><p>Hidgens nodded, impressed, “The mind and the soul...and it keeps all of Nightmare Time out. You see...the first time Emma died-”</p><p>“The <em> first time </em>!?” Tim practically squealed.</p><p>Emma sighed and nodded, hugging her alarmed nephew closer, “It didn’t take, buddy, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Continuing on,” Hidgens continued, an exasperated sigh in his voice, “The first time Emma died, she and Paul started the makings of their daydream...a way for Paul to pull Emma back to life.”</p><p>“I need to write that down,” Alice muttered tiredly, “This would be great for my play…”</p><p>“Please Miss Woodward- you write plays?” Hidgens asked, his eyes widening in excitement.</p><p>“Uh...yeah?” Alice asked, looking slightly less tired and miserable, “I wanna be a playwright…”</p><p>“Truly?” Hidgens spoke excitedly, almost as if the worry and situation at hand had disappeared entirely, “You know, I’m something of a playwright my-”</p><p>“Hidgens,” Emma sighed, rubbing at her tired, puffy eyes,  “Stay on topic, please.” </p><p>“Of course,” The man sighed, standing up straighter, clearly slightly annoyed at the fact that they stopped him from talking about something he was evidently passionate about, “As I was saying...Paul and Emma’s dimension allows for souls to escape. Mostly it’s their own souls, but because Jane and I were already dead, we were allowed entrance...but not before we cleaved the parts of our souls that had been affected by Nightmare Time from ourselves.”</p><p>“Affected?” Xander asked. </p><p>“Corrupted,” Hidgens nodded, “In some ways, there can be damage to the soul that happens as a result of Nightmare Time that could be irreversible...to a dead soul anyway. To the living, I’m not sure. But for me and Jane to escape from Nightmare Time into the Daydream, we needed to get rid of the parts of us that wanted to <em> join </em> the nightmares.”</p><p>“So…” Xander began quietly, “What happened to the part you lost?” </p><p>Hidgens sighed before glancing at Tom, his eyes calculating before going wide, “Did Tom ever tell you about any strange dreams before this? Dreams involving Jane where she might have looked differently?”</p><p>John’s eyes widened, remembering one of the things Tom had mentioned in the last meeting that they had. </p><p>
  <em> “Our Jane had brown hair and brown eyes, right? I didn’t just make that up?... This Jane had auburn hair and blue eyes…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Xander nodded, “He said that she had blue eyes and reddish hair instead of brown hair and brown eyes, didn’t he?” </p><p>Emma nodded before looking at the Professor, “How did you…”</p><p>Hidgens cursed under his breath, “Well, then...I’m afraid that Tom is going to be encountering some rather unpleasant stuff in his personal nightmare…”<br/>“W-what d-do you mean?” Tim whispered, his eyes were wide and filling with tears as his eyes darted over to where his father still lay, “<em>What does that mean?!</em>”</p><p>The Professor bit down on his lower lip, looking as if he was debating giving them the actual answer, “If I’m right...then Tom is encountering Jane…” he sighed, before writing a few small illegible scribbles across the board, “But rather than actually meeting Jane…he’s meeting  the corrupted part of her soul that she left behind to escape Nightmare Time...and who knows what that will do to him?”</p><p>He sighed as his eyes traced over all of the victims, his head moving in an almost cinematic way. </p><p>“And…” he whispered, “If he’s encountering Jane...I fear one of them might be encountering me.”</p><p>“You?” John raised an eyebrow, “Why would that be a concern?” </p><p>Hidgens’ face grew red, “What part of <em> corrupted soul </em> are you not understanding?” </p><p>Before John could answer, the man went on, “What you’re not understanding is that this is a dimension of nightmares. A dimension in which their personal anguish will manifest from their soul and affect them in different ways. For some, they could present their worst fear in the guise of joy, fulfillment...perhaps even fulfilling a lifelong dream...maybe being given power beyond imagination...it’s so brilliantly deceptive in the way it’s engineered.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “For some, it might appear as if their life is normal and the addition of one new thing sends it all crashing down, while others might be forced to play the role of a captive audience...watching it all come down around them while they cannot do anything to change it. Nightmare Time is a trap of Webby’s making and she made sure that it was designed specifically for different individuals when they enter it.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as they all considered the weight of the words. No one dared look the other in the eye as they considered what the Professor had meant. Somehow, John found himself being filled with more and more guilt. Who knew what form of anguish that all of these people that he cared about were experiencing? If it was so bad that Hidgens and Jane had both had to cleave some part of themselves to escape it, what were they seeing? The fact remained that there were seven victims. Seven people experiencing seven different nightmares. Saving them would be no easy task, he knew, but he’d be willing to do anything to free them.</p><p>“Wh-what about Hannah?” Ethan whispered, his voice wavering on the name, “She touched Lex’s hand and was...was…”</p><p>The boy trailed off as more tears fell down his face. He buried his face in his hands as they all felt another wave of guilt at the loss of one of their youngest member to the trap that had ensnared those who mattered most to them.</p><p>Hidgens sighed, “I don’t know...I didn’t think it was contagious...I mean...I’ve never seen it before.”</p><p>“And it doesn’t make sense,” Xander chimed in, “We both were holding up Ted and in contact with him…”</p><p>“Yeah…” Emma mused, “And I was in contact with Paul when he collapsed.”</p><p>“So…” John finished, “It couldn’t have been contagious...right? Besides, if they were inoculated with it months ago, wouldn’t they have infected all of us at this point?”</p><p>Hidgens sighed, “I’m not entirely sure how Webby’s venom works...but I suppose you’re right when you suggest that physical contact is not how people are infected.”</p><p>“Then how do you explain Hannah?!” Ethan demanded, “All she did was grab Lexi’s hand and then…well...y-you all saw what happened...”</p><p>“She said she could fix this,” Xander mused, his voice soft.</p><p>“<em> That’s not her fuckin’ job!” </em> Ethan all but shouted, his eyes still filling with tears, “ <em> God, she’s just a kid…” </em></p><p>Slowly and silently, Ethan dissolved into tears again.</p><p>“Why did she do it?” he asked, his voice broken by tears, “Why did she do this to herself?” </p><p>There was a small moment of silence before Hidgens spoke up, “I don’t know, my boy...but something tells me she wouldn’t have done it without good reason…”</p><p>“Good reason?” Xander raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”</p><p>Hidgens scoffed, “Of course, you must know how powerful Hannah is!? You can’t ignore that she’s easily one of the most powerful human beings on earth!”</p><p>John hated to admit how right the Professor was. Hannah was, indeed, powerful. She could understand so much more than anyone else could. He just hated the way the Professor made it sound like the girl was a weapon rather than a person. </p><p>“If she had a reason to believe that we could find a way to save all of them while she herself went in,” Hidgens explained, biting down on his lower lip as he paced, deep in thought, “Then she knew what she was doing...and made a conscious effort to get into Nightmare Time without having to get herself infected…”</p><p>“You’re saying,” John began, “That Hannah could simply access Nightmare Time with her abilities?” </p><p>“It’s only a theory,” Hidgens mused, “But it’s a possible one.”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Bill smiled as he practically skipped up to the ticket booth, pointedly ignoring the fact that Alice was dragging her feet behind her. He could hear the faint noise of the amusement park music, beckoning him further in, exciting him even more than he already was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they approached the ticket booth, Bill took notice of a bright-eyed ticket-taker, who smiled brightly as he approached. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello, sir!” the man greeted, his voice filled with infectious enthusiasm, “Welcome to Watcher World! Ready to watch all of your dreams come true?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill smiled at the man as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, “Sure am!” He glanced at the billboard above the desk, surveying the ticket prices and the corresponding ages, “Can we get two tickets? One adult and one child.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice groaned and sighed, “Dad, are you serious?” she looked up at the ticket-taker, “Two adults.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill chuckled at his mistake and pulled Alice into another hug, smiling at the man behind the booth, “Sorry, she’ll always be a child in my eyes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice rolled her eyes and groaned, “Dad...stop embarrassing me.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The ticket-takers eyes darted between them excitedly, almost as if he was hungrily watching a Tennis Match of sorts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled enthusiastically, “Uh-Oh,” he waved his hands around, “Looks like we’ve got a Daddy-Daughter dispute on our hands…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed, offering the man a haphazard smile and shrug, trying to play off whatever frustration he felt at Alice as normal. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tell you what,” The ticket-taker leaned in, “I’m gonna give you the child price...she is your little girl after all.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill smiled wide, as the man took his card and rang up his purchase, handing two yellow and purple tickets, as well as Bill’s card, through the small plexiglass barrier, “Hey! Thanks!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He handed one of the tickets to Alice, who merely sighed and looked down, clearly not sharing in Bill’s enthusiasm. Just before they passed through the gates, the ticket-taker called after them, “And Princess!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice sighed and turned around as the ticket man smiled at them. His violet eyes scanning the both of them excitedly in a way that Bill figured only reflected the enthusiasm of the place. Alice, he noticed, however, looked like she wanted to puke. </em>
</p><p><em> “You take care of your daddy, today…” he smiled, an unfamiliar look of happiness and excitement in his eyes, “ </em> <b> <em>Blinky’s got his eye on you…</em> </b> <em> ”  </em></p><p>
  <em> For a moment, Bill was put off by the statement.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> What an odd thing to say... </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> With a small wink, however, the ticket-taker ushered them forward, and Bill smiled as he looked at Alice. Feeling like a little kid all over again, he excitedly pushed through the gates, stepping into a world of purple and yellow.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A world where they were being watched and they didn’t even know it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>“So let’s say Hannah uses her powers to access this dimension…” Xander was pacing in between the chairs as they all considered the possibilities, “That means she’ll be seeing her own worst nightmare.”</p><p>They’d been inside the quarantine bay for over an hour, discussing and disputing the different possibilities associated with the conditions of their closest friends. Though they were all exhausted, and Tim was now snoring softly into Becky’s side, bouncing between leaning into either Becky or Emma from his seat, they kept going, discussing everything to the extent they needed to. Even Alice and her girlfriend looked like they were five seconds from falling asleep, but Xander could identify the determination they all had to at the very least come to some form of conclusion.</p><p>“True,” Hidgens assented, “But like I said, I don’t think that girl would have made the choices she made if she didn’t have reason to. She sees more and knows more than anyone could ever know...suppose that perhaps she saw a possibility to begin the process of their rescue? Wouldn’t it make sense for her to take her chance right then and there?”</p><p>“Is there any way we could possibly see what they’re seeing?” Emma asked, “I don’t know...like maybe seeing their personal nightmares to determine how they’re doing?” </p><p>Hidgens shook his head, “I can’t think of any way to accomplish that...to be honest, nobody has survived being in Nightmare Time for this long...and they seem to be sustaining themselves...of course we’ve only been observing them for over an hour, but so far, with the exception of Paul...their vitals are relatively normal.”</p><p>Xander snapped his attention over to Emma at just the right moment to see the indignance fill her eyes.</p><p>“Why do you keep saying that?” Emma demanded of him, her voice shaky but filled with rage, “What do you mean his vitals are weaker?”</p><p>Hidgens sighed, looking relatively apologetic, “His blood pressure is significantly lower and out of the range of the others, and his pulse too. Though the pulse thing might not be something good for him, his condition is relatively worse than the others when you really think about it…”</p><p>It was clear that Emma didn’t like the sound of that. The pain in her eyes, unlike anything they’d seen her express.</p><p>“I agree,” Phillipa chimed in, her voice a little bit more sensitive than Hidgens was. At Emma’s expression, she turned to her, “He’s right about the ranges being pretty set with the rest of them...and it’s strange because I can’t give a reason why…”</p><p>“I can,” Hidgens mused, “I’ve got a few theories.”</p><p>“A few?” Xander raised an eyebrow, “Should we be concerned?” </p><p>“Yes,” Hidgens muttered, his eyes darting over to Paul’s little quarantine cube, “My top one however it that Paul’s dead in his own worst nightmare.”</p><p>“<em> What!?” </em>Emma practically screamed, her voice broken as panic and rage-filled her eyes. </p><p>“In the dream, Emma,” Hidgens held up his hands, “Not in real life...in the dream…”</p><p>Emma didn’t seem to calm down at that, “How would you know? You can’t just drop something like that and <em> not </em>explain it!”</p><p>“Well…” Hidgens went on, “Did he ever tell you of any strange dreams he had before all of this? Anything unusual that might have indicated that he was going into Nightmare Time?”</p><p>Emma paused for a moment, her tired eyes scanning over the room. Her eyes remained in one place, in particular, her position perfect where she could see Paul perfectly. Emotions crossed her gaze, and Xander noticed how one of her hands gently and subtly went to her stomach as she thought. </p><p>“Yeah…” she murmured, “He’s been having a few nightmares...he didn’t mention exactly what they were about...but…”</p><p>She trailed off, her eyes still on Paul as she looked deep in thought.</p><p>“Emma?” Hidgens asked, “Do you know of anything specific that Paul might have mentioned to you, maybe in passing?” </p><p>Xander leaned forward as Emma continued to think. What was the Professor getting at? What did he hope to accomplish by interrogating Emma? No matter how connected she and Paul were, he was fairly certain that the mind-reading thing was up to Paul and Hannah...even if they’d somehow found a way to communicate while they were in the caves.  </p><p>Emma bit her lower lip, looking like she was debating whether or not she should share her thoughts. </p><p>“What are you thinking, Emma?’ Xander leaned forward, studying the woman closely, “What did he tell you?”</p><p>Emma looked up, “He…” she hesitated, her voice wavering as she spoke, “He did ask me if I’d know it was him...if he was ever replaced by someone who looked exactly like him…”</p><p>Hidgens sighed and looked contemplative for a moment, which only seemed to irritate Emma. She rubbed at her eyes as the man’s gaze darted between her and Paul, not saying anything.</p><p>“That’s all I know,” she spat, “And I can’t make sense of it...not at all...but if you can, by all means, please share…”</p><p>Hidgens said nothing as he turned to the board, quickly writing down a list of the victims' names. Next to Paul’s he simply added the word ‘dead?’, as well as writing ‘replaced’, ignoring Emma’s annoyed and tired expression.</p><p>“What about the others?” he asked, “Did Lucy have anything?”</p><p>Xander looked at John, unsure if he should divulge anything to the man. In some ways they were still unsure if they could ever completely trust him...but he was here...and he actually understood a little more than they did when it came to Nightmare Time as a whole.</p><p>Could they trust him?</p><p>Hidgens sighed, as if he could read his mind, “I know you don’t trust me...I know I haven’t necessarily given you reasons to trust me…” he looked down, “But right now I might be your only chance at saving them with the seer…” he looked as if he was considering his words carefully, not wanting to upset Ethan any more than he already was.</p><p>“You know what I mean,” he settled on, eyeing all of them, “Whatever happens, I might be your best chance at helping you save them...you’ve just lost so many important people on your teams, whether we like it or not, you need to trust me…”</p><p>Xander sighed heavily as the man concluded his speech, throwing his hands in the air.</p><p>“The choice is yours,” Hidgens nodded, “I’ll help you any way you need, but whether or not you accept is entirely up to you.”</p><p>As much as Xander hated to admit it, the man had a point.</p><p>These were times where trust was something few could afford. </p><p>Regardless of whether or not they trusted Hidgens, they had to make a choice.</p><p>And there was only one choice to make. </p><p>“Okay,” Xander whispered, before John could speak, “You tell us what you know...we’ll tell you what we know.”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> “So ends the list,” Hidgens smiled, closing the bible dramatically as he looked between 23 and Emma, “And now...the bride and groom shall recite their vows.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He glanced at 23 with a soft smile, “Paul?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul sighed and looked down. He couldn’t believe this. Already it seemed that this wedding went on forever, and he was being forced to watch every second of it. He was being forced to watch his murderer marry the love of his life, and he could do nothing about it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 grinned shyly and retrieved a small folded paper from his breast pocket, still grinning at Emma as she stood in front of him. Gently, he unfolded the paper, and Paul had to stifle a gag as 23 smiled gently at her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hi...Emma,” he grinned, saying her name with so much adoration Paul could have sworn he’d said it herself. Paul could hear Bill sniffle loudly from the audience as 23 began to read.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wow,” he smiled, his voice shaky, “Here we are...Seems like it was only yesterday when I walked into a local coffee shop for a cup of black coffee. Nothing in it. No cream. No sugar.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You never lived that...I did,” Paul muttered mournfully, “You’re a liar.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And there you were,” 23 continued, smiling softly, unmoved by Paul’s silent accusations, “Working at the register...and you were very rude to me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The small crowd chuckled as 23 went on.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And yet,” he grinned at her, “I found myself coming back to Beanies the next day, and the day after that, and every day. For a while I told myself it was for the coffee...but who am I kidding? It was bad coffee.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma smiled and looked down before turning to the small crowd, nodding along as 23 had just told a fun inside joke, “The coffee’s shit. We spit in it sometimes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The truth is,” 23 smiled softly, flushing as he went on, “The thing that kept me coming back...was a girl. A girl who gets chatty when she’s stressed…a girl who can make you laugh, whether she’s wiping down a counter, or brewing a pot of decaf.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s heart both soared and sank as he recognized the things he loved about Emma in the imposter’s vows.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course, who wouldn’t love Emma for those things?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Who wouldn’t love Emma? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His heart ached as he watched 23 smile down at Emma, making her smile wide. He felt selfish for being the one to make her smile. He felt selfish for feeling like he’d wanted this so badly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What he really wanted was for Emma to be happy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And it was killing him that he wasn’t able to do that for her. </em>
</p><p><em>“A girl whose smile can make your heart sing,” 23 continued, smiling wide, his eyes softly looking over Emma with as much love and affection as Paul himself was sure he felt for her, “Even if you don’t like...musicals.”</em><em><br/></em> <em>“Oh, fuck you,” Paul whispered under his breath. Now it was just getting ridiculous. Not only had this man stolen his life, but this man had also stolen the things that had made him somewhat unique in his own dullness. His whole life had felt dull until Emma had entered it, and somehow this man had stolen that from him too.</em></p><p>
  <em> “I was born here in Hatchetfield,” 23 stared softly down at his and Emma’s intertwined hands, “I never had any kind of aspirations for myself...I never really wanted anything…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The next few words were like a blow to Paul’s heart as he recognized how true the next words were.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Until I met you, Emma Perkins.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tears silently streamed down Paul’s face as 23 continued, continuing to stare into Emma’s eyes as he conveyed to her every ounce of love that Paul had wished to give her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You gave me a purpose,” he sighed, “Because...I want to be a man who’s worthy to stand up here with you. And I vow to do everything in my power to be that man.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tears filled 23’s eyes as he smiled wide, “I love you, Emma Perkins...the Latte Hottay…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He paused as if considering doing something drastic, a cheeky grin crossing his face as he smiled at her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My wife!” he said loudly in the weirdest voice possible.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The crowd laughed as Emma blushed and looked down, shaking her head at 23 like he was the most adorably ridiculous person she’d ever laid eyes on.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes!”  Paul turned to see Ted sitting in one of the further back rows, holding his hand up triumphantly, “That’s fuckin’ Borat, dude!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 blushed bashfully and looked down softly before meeting Emma’s eyes again.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Forever and always.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Paul suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like all air had been knocked from his lungs. He didn’t know why those words had suddenly made him feel like he was being torn apart. He fell to his knees again, filled with pain that he couldn’t tell whether or not it was emotional or physical. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Those words. </p><p><strike>They’d meant something to him, right?</strike> </p><p><strike>Someone very important had once said that to him.</strike> </p><p>
  <strike> And he’d said it back...hadn’t he? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Many times. </strike>
</p><p><strike>A promise he shared with someone very special.</strike> </p><p><strike>Someone who meant the world to him</strike>. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>Emma.</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Where was he?  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something was wrong… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He wasn’t supposed to be here…  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This wasn’t right.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Why couldn’t he breathe? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Where was Em- </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He snapped out of his haze, feeling discombobulated, and not remembering that the words had been said at all as Hidgens nodded appreciatively after 23 put his paper back in his breast pocket.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens turned to Emma, smiling softly at her, “Emma?”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma gently removed her own paper from the pocket of her wedding dress, unfolding it softly and beginning to read, looking up at 23 with some strange sense of shyness that Paul had never seen in her before.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wow,” she practically whispered, her voice rising in volume as she continued to speak, “Here we are…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled lightly under her breath, almost as if she were continuing a normal, casual conversation, “You know, I remember the night before my sister Jane got married…” she smiled softly, “I was on the phone with her...trying to talk her out of it. Sorry, Tom.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Casting a brief glance at the area where Tom and Tim were seated, Paul took note of the giggles that Tim was trying very hard to conceal, all the while, his father looked very unamused. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And I said to her,” Emma went on, “‘You’re really gonna let this hairy yeti-man hog half of your bed, filling it with his farts for the rest of your life’?” her eyes softened, casting a small, slightly sad smile at Tom and Tim in the front row, “And...that’s how it was for the rest of her life...but I don’t think she would have had it any other way.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed and looked up at him, a soft smile on her face that unraveled Paul’s heart. She had such a beautiful smile.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If I could go back in time and talk to a younger Emma Perkins, I’m sure she’d tell me there’s no worse fate than settling down and getting married in Hatchetfield,” she smiled, “To which I’d say...could be worse...you could be settling down and getting hitched in Clivesdale.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul had to stifle a small laugh as the crowd erupted into laughter and Bill raised his fist with an excited cheer of “Fuck Clivesdale!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” 23 sniffed, his eyes filled with tears as he looked down at Emma, “Fuck em’.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And I’d tell her,” she went on once the celebratory laughter and cheering settled down, “Relax...you haven’t met Paul yet…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s heart broke just a little bit more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cursed himself for wasting so much time admiring her from afar when he could have just worked up the nerve to at the very least ask her for her name. Maybe then things would have turned out differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have been murdered in a shady alleyway, his body wrapped in chains and plastic and dropped over the side of the Nantucket Bridge. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wished he and Emma had more time.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But now I have…” Emma smiled, blushing more than she had been before, shaking her head in disbelief, “And I find myself doing things I never thought I would. I think it’s because there’s this part of me I didn’t know before. A part of me that wants to save money instead of blowing it on another hiking trip. The part of me that thinks it’s a huge turn-on that you just have a boring office job that you don’t like but you do it anyway because it gets us health insurance.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head, chuckling softly, “I never had insurance before you, Paul! I never used to think about the future...but now I think about it...all the time. I want to thank you for introducing me to that Emma.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A future.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, that had been all Paul wanted with her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know...who I am now,” Emma was tearing up, her beautiful eyes so big and filled with love as she stared at 23, “I am Emma Perkins...and I love you, Paul Matthews.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s heart broke at the realization of how the statement was an unintentional lie. He braced himself for the finish of her vows, trying so hard to keep his own tears at bay. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The bitter truth remained that she didn’t get the chance to love him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He died before she’d ever told him that she loved him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was cruel.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two weeks after he’d died had been when she’d told 23 that she loved him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His murderer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even worse...he’d never gotten the chance to tell her how much he loved her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knew he loved her, of course. How could he not? She was the most beautiful, strong, mean, wonderful woman he’d ever had the fortune of encountering. Of course, he’d debated with himself when it came to asking her out, mainly because he didn’t think that someone as interesting as her would ever give someone like him the time of day. So, rather than doing anything that would make her uncomfortable or flaunt himself, he just quietly passed her by, appreciating her in every second of his mundane life where she stepped in.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If he’d known that she liked him as much as he liked her, he would have asked her out sooner.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And just to think that if he hadn’t been so stupidly hesitant to tell her how he felt, things might have been different. Things might have turned out better for him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe this would have been their wedding, instead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt selfish to think like this.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma’s happiness and safety mattered more to him than anything else in the world...but that didn’t change the fact that she was happy with someone she thought was him...but wasn’t hurt worse than death itself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma smiled widely, staring deep into 23’s eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Forever and- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “LIAR!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sound of a loud obnoxious shout from the other end of the museum foyer caught everyone’s attention, sending a wave of rigidness and abrupt apprehension over the room. He rushed forward to stand in the aisle, a few feet away from a very amused-looking Ted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wait...what?” Emma paled and turned towards the front doors, Paul following her gaze to see the Homeless Man from Squirrel Street standing there pointing an accusatory finger at Emma as he stumbled almost drunkenly down the aisle.  </em>
</p><p><em> “I said </em> you... <em> ” He pointed his finger more aggressively at Emma, her eyes filled with some form of fear as the man moved closer to her, “Are a </em>fucking liar!!”</p><p>
  <em> “Excuse me,” 23 asked, looking slightly nervous, “Who let that guy in here?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he approached where 23 and Emma were standing, he continued to shout, shocking Paul speechless.  </em>
</p><p><em> “You think I don’t </em> know?! <em> Huh?” The man raved, “You think I don’t </em> remember <em> ? I’ve seen the plans!!!” </em></p><p>
  <em> Wait...was he talking to Emma or to 23?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul wasn’t sure.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The man’s snarl was filled with aggression as he got closer to the front of the audience, his screams visceral as he stared her down, somehow making Emma seem small. Paul’s heart broke for her as he got up in her face, 23 putting an arm protectively in front of her, his eyes filled with confusion. In seeing the way that 23 was trying to defend her, Paul found a moment where he could have some gratitude towards him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still, the homeless man persisted.   </em>
</p><p><em>“YOU AREN’T EMMA PERKINS!!”</em> <em> he shouted, rushing forward and phasing through Paul as he pointed a finger in her face. She took a few steps back, 23 still standing somewhat in front of her. </em></p><p>
  <em> Just then, Tom stood, placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright, pal,” Tom said assertively, “That’s enough.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Tom began to lead the homeless man out, the man thrashed against Tom’s extremely powerful grip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Get off of me!!” he shouted, “Where are you taking me?! That’s not Emma Perkins...That’s not Emma P-” he paused to look at Sylvia in the aisle, holding his hands out for a second, breaking his visage of anger and accusation, “Spare change for the homeless?” when she didn’t respond he went right back into it, pointing his finger at the shell-shocked woman in the wedding dress, “THAT’S NOT EMMA!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, Tom had gotten the man out of the building, leaving the wedding party completely confused and bewildered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> From the back of the room, Paul could hear Ted mutter something along the lines of “What a loser.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry for the interruption everyone, but the show must go on!” Hidgens announced, calming the chatter of the crowd. He turned to Emma, who was staring at the space where the Homeless Man had been standing mere moments before, “Emma...you were saying?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I...um…” she whispered, “I’m sorry…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s heart broke as he realized just how shaken her voice sounded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She turned and ran for the hallway, leaving a very confused and shaken 23 standing beside Hidgens. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma?” 23 whispered, his eyes wide as he began to run after her, “Emma?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he ran, Paul found himself being pulled to follow his murderer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not that he could do much else.  </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Webby stared down into the forest as the seven people wandered it hopelessly, the toxin taking its toll on all of their feeble minds.</p><p>Of course, it had been something of a surprise when the little seer threw herself into a domain of darkness...but, Hannah Foster was full of surprises, wasn’t she?</p><p>“<em> There weren’t supposed to be seven… </em>” Apatha whispered from her place at Webby’s side, her stone mask newly restored and covering her face. Her musical voice was filled with disapproval as she looked at Webby, unable to see what Webby could.</p><p>“I know, Apatha,” Webby whispered, tired of her sister’s doubt.</p><p><em> “You said that the seer would be taken care of,” </em> Apatha demanded, “ <em> I’d hardly call this ‘taken care of’.”  </em></p><p>“It was...unexpected,” Webby sighed, “But it changes nothing…Besides we have them all right where we want them.”</p><p>“<em> Do we?” </em> Apatha asked, her eyes filled with uncertainty, “ <em> I’ll admit, I was reluctant to offer my favorite to this plan of yours…” </em></p><p>“A lot of good that did too,” Webby whispered bitterly, “He’s making things...difficult...his worst nightmare is more complex than originally thought...Hannah’s too…”</p><p>That wasn’t a lie. In some ways, the nightmares presented by the victims were a lot deeper than originally thought. Not only were the nightmares so far vastly different in their own ways, but they were intriguing in the way they were first presented to them. </p><p>Some were tempting and alluring, whereas some were nightmarish right off the bat. She could see what they were seeing, and she could see where the dreams were going</p><p>For the Stockworth woman, it was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream...later proven false.</p><p>For Blinky’s favorite, it was the notion of re-establishing a connection with his daughter...at which, he would fail.</p><p>For Apatha’s favorite, he was trapped in never meeting the truth...a captive audience to what he couldn’t control...only to realize he’d never met the love of his life, to begin with.</p><p>For Tinky’s favorite, it was the power to correct an old mistake, and a chance to be someone...only to fail, make a bigger mistake, and end up as nobody.</p><p>For the Houston man, it appeared simple...almost as if he was pulled between mundanity and the extraordinary... only to fall victim to something he didn’t know he wished for.</p><p>For Hannah’s sister…</p><p>Webby smiled cruelly, Hannah’s sister had been something of an interesting one for her.</p><p>For Hannah’s sister, it was a manifestation of her own literal fear that she wouldn’t be able to protect Hannah.</p><p>And now that Hannah had made her choice...that nightmare would become real. </p><p>She turned to Apatha, realizing just how powerful she’d become with Hannah’s choice...a choice that would be proven to be a mistake. </p><p>A mistake that would be fatal…</p><p>A mistake that just might have improved her plan overall.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s all taken care of…”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...at least writing this gives me an excuse to rewatch all of nightmare time :)</p><p>Lucy is a sweetheart...</p><p>John, you're doing amazing sweetie!!</p><p>Bill is trying to be a good father, and I love him for it. He's imperfect...but he's trying.<br/>(Have I ever mentioned how much I love Bill Woodward?)</p><p>Xander thinks sleep is for the weak. </p><p>Emma ain't having a good time.</p><p>And can they trust Hidgens?</p><p>Also...Paul is suffering. Fun times (funny story, an actual part of my outline for this chapter was 'more Paul anguish'- and we're gonna have more in the next chapter ;) ).</p><p>Webby needs to step the hell away. </p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like to!!! I'm sorry this chapter was still a little bit long, I really am trying to cut them down a lot. There's just a whole lot of crap that needs to happen all at once, so I hope that's okay!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please stay safe and healthy and treat yourselves with kindness because YOU'RE WORTH IT!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. In a Land of Make-Believe, Don't Believe in Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The group tries to gather their senses while their loved ones wander a maze of mystery</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter title comes from the song "Jesus of Suburbia" by Green Day</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!:General Anguish, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, mentions of stabbing, Ted is a horny bastard, mentions of PTSD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Paul followed as 23 ran into one of the corridors marked by displays of old art and paintings curated from Hatchetfield’s past. Whether they were depicting fields of poppies and cornflowers or the construction of the first few homes in Hatchetfield, they traveled through the lovely art gallery, looking for where Emma had run off to.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul couldn’t understand what was happening. It was strange to him that things had spiraled out of control so quickly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The words of the Homeless Man echoed in his mind.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You aren’t Emma Perkins.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’d been angered beyond all imagination that someone would scare Emma in that manner. Demean her and humiliate her on a day that meant something great to her. And yet...somehow he found himself puzzled by what the Homeless man had suggested.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why would he suggest that Emma wasn’t Emma when it was 23 who wasn’t Paul? Why was it that Emma was the subject of contempt here, and not 23? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After passing a few paintings depicting lovely cottages and willow trees within the Witchwoods,  23 found Emma sitting on a side bench in the empty hallway, her skirts all bundled up around her as she cried softly into her hands.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As if he was reading everything Paul wanted to do at that moment, 23 ran to her and touched her shoulder gently, looking at her with so much concern in his eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma are you alright?” he whispered gently, rubbing circles into her shoulder as he did, trying to provide her with as much comfort as he could, “I’m so sorry I don’t know how that homeless man got in here...b-but...I’m gonna have a word with the venue…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No…” Emma sniffled, “It’s not that, Paul...It’s just the reality of this is hitting me for the first time…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know,” 23 whispered, smiling encouragingly at her  “It’s crazy...but I’m right here with you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma looked up at 23 with big tearful eyes, her voice breaking as she let out a sob, “Paul...I can’t do this…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma…” 23 whispered, panic filling his eyes, as he sat down beside her on the bench, practically begging her,  “No...please…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Unless…” she sniffed, looking up at him, “If this marriage is going to work, it needs to be built on trust...right?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Absolutely,” 23 spoke without any hesitation, filling Paul with some form of rage he couldn’t identify.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If that were true, then 23 should have revealed to Emma what he was...what he’d done. She deserved the truth and the man was lying to her face as he knelt there in front of her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have to understand,” Emma sniffed again, wiping at her face gently with her hand, expertly managing to prevent her makeup from smearing, “It is hard for me to be one-hundred percent honest with anyone. I have a confession to make...but I’m afraid to tell you what it is.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey…” 23 said softly, cupping her face gently “You don’t have to be afraid with me...you can tell me anything and I’ll only love you more.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul knew that was a truth he shared. He would love Emma unconditionally for as long as he lived (except...he wasn’t), regardless of what he had to hide. And if 23 was planning to be an excellent mimicry of him, he would too. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But...23 did love her...didn’t he? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He certainly hadn’t gone around ruining the way people perceived Paul or gone about destroying the relationships Paul had built. In fact, 23 had slipped right into his life seamlessly, almost as if he wanted Paul’s life for his own… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Which had to mean, in some strange way…23 loved Emma just as much as Paul did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma didn’t look so sure, staring up into 23’s eyes intently as the tears receded, “You sure?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 nodded, certainty filling his eyes, “Positive.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma inhaled and exhaled sharply, “Okay...here goes…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m not Emma Perkins...and I never was” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wait what? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 looked just as shocked as Paul was at the statement, “Excuse me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma Perkins is dead.” Emma sighed, looking down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Huh?” 23 and Paul might as well have said that at the same time, with as confused as they both were. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma sighed and looked down, “She was on a  backpacking trip in Guatemala. I was there too. She was on a bus, there was an accident...she didn’t make it…” she trailed off, a strange look in her eyes as she went on, “We were staying at the same hostel she left her things there. Her phone rang and I answered it. It was her brother-in-law, Tom. He was in tears. His wife Jane, Emma’s sister, had also just died. And he started talking to me like I was Emma and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was gone too. He invited me to Jane’s funeral and...I don’t know why but I went...It had been so long since Emma had left home and I guess I looked enough like her that everyone just accepted me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled to herself, tears filling her eyes, “God, and it felt so good. I never had a family, Paul. I never had anyone. so...One thing led to another and…” she paused before smiling softly at 23, “...then I met you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s head was spinning.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> But...she <em> was </em> Emma. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Wasn’t she? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> She looked just like… </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> “Emma Perkins is </em> (not) <em> dead…” </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Images flashed in his head. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> A deafening crash. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Rocks tumbling down from a damaged tunnel roof.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> A terrifying scream that ripped him apart… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> A heartbeat he could no longer hear (or maybe there were two?) </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He could hear it so clearly, but he couldn’t remember when it had happened.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Or rather, <em> where </em> it happened. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> His world had ended, hadn’t it? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Wait...this wasn’t <em> his </em> Emma… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Panic filled him. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Where was his Emma? </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Again, he was snapped out of his daze, forgetting the panic as 23 stammered on his words, a confused look in his eyes as he tentatively approached the situation, “Let me get this straight, Emma…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Again, I’m not Emma…” Emma, or rather not-Emma shook her head, “You can keep calling me that but I am not her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay...okay...okay…” 23 stammered, his eyes filled with confusion, “So...you...you stole this woman’s life?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well... I don’t think about it like that,” Emma sighed, glancing downward, “It’s more like what I did with her phone. I found something that nobody was using, picked it up, and kept it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This is…” 23 looked shocked as if he were choosing his words carefully, “...a big reveal.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Emma chuckled softly, “It’s a huge weight off of my shoulders...But remember, Paul...I’m the woman you fell in love with.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled nervously, “Why should it matter if my name isn’t really Emma Perkins? That doesn’t change who I am now... That doesn’t change what we have…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She had a point.  </em>
</p><p><em> Regardless of how confused and slightly upset Paul was at the reveal, he couldn’t deny that she might have been masquerading as someone else, he couldn’t deny that </em> she <em> was the person he’d been drawn to. </em> She <em> was herself. No matter what name she went by. </em></p><p>
  <em> “But,” 23 looked like he didn’t know what to say, “All of these people...think you’re someone else…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know,” Emma sighed before looking down, shame blooming in her eyes, “I don’t blame you if you hate me now….” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tears filled her eyes as a shaky sob left her, “I don’t blame you...if...if you want to call off the wedding.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She buried her face in her hands once again, refusing to look at 23 as she cried. Paul stood there, watching the pair. Watching the person who murdered him as a flurry of emotions danced over his face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’d be a hypocrite if you didn’t accept her now,” Paul whispered, fury filling him as he watched his doppelganger, “If you really love her, prove it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If Emma was going to make a big confession then Paul was certain 23 would have to as well. If Emma was going to bear her soul before him, then he needed to give her every reason to trust him as she’d given him reasons to trust her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed, unknowing that Paul was even there, kneeling in front of Emma and setting his hand gently on her knee.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sweetheart,” he whispered, looking tenderly up at her, “Look at me...”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slowly and tentatively, Emma glanced up, her lovely brown eyes filled with tears as he smiled at her.  </em>
</p><p><em> “I love... </em> you <em> ,” 23 said softly and gently, “Whether your name is Emma...” </em></p><p>
  <em> “It’s not,” Emma whispered tearfully, shaking her head along with it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whatever your name is…” 23 chuckled softly, “I made a vow to you...the woman I met at Beanies…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head again, smiling reassuringly up at her, “You don’t need to hide anything. I’ll accept you for who you are...who you were...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul could see the hesitancy in 23’s eyes. Almost as if the being was debating telling her right then and there who he was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul,” Emma’s voice was low and serious, all emotion except for slight fear filling her eyes. She gently gripped 23’s shoulders, “Never ask me who I am. Don’t do it. Never ask me that. If you ask me...I’ll have to tell you...and I hate to think of what would happen then. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed and dropped her hands, gently taking 23’s hands in her own, “I guarantee, whoever I was before will have no effect on our lives going forward. It may as well have never happened…” she sighed and looked 23 in the eyes, a soft, loving, and tender look in her own, “I will love you till the day you die...but until then, you’ll know that I am not Emma Perkins...If you can accept that...then marry me. Right now.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She leaned forward slightly, looking 23 intently in the eye, “Do you accept that Paul Matthews?” she looked almost as if she were scared that he wouldn’t, “Do you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 looked up at her, a serious expression on his face. Certain. Self-assured. With a gentle nod, he smiled softly at Emma, “I do.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tears filled Emma’s eyes as she stared at him. She scooted off of the bench so she was beside 23 and pulled him into a deep hug, her arms wrapping around him gently as he held her close. She buried her face in his shoulder as he held her tight and close, his eyes gently closed with a soft smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you, Paul,” Emma whispered, “So goddamn much…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul couldn’t fight the sob that left him as 23 gave the response he wanted so badly to give.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you too, Em…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul didn’t know what to think as they both stood, hand-in-hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ready to go get married?” 23 asked Emma bashfully, blushing madly as she wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled widely, “Hell yeah…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a laugh, 23 began to lead Emma back to the foyer. Paul followed the couple without his own consent, watching as they moved back into the main foyer to stand before Hidgens, who gestured for the still-babbling crowd to calm down as the couple approached. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stood in silence from a distance as he watched everyone take their places, Tim bringing up the rings as 23 and Emma exchanged them, smiling gently and happily at one another. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wanted Emma to be happy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But he didn’t want this liar who’d murdered him to bring her any harm.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Regardless of how much he loved her, it didn’t change the fact that Emma was marrying a murderer. A murderer who was lying to her at every move.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wanted to protect her as much as he could. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you,” Hidgens began, turning to 23, “Paul Matthews, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, so long as you both shall live till death do you part?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You won’t hurt her,” Paul whispered, forced to watch everything transpiring in front of him, “I won’t let you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 nodded happily, holding Emma’s hands in his own, “I do.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens grinned and turned to Emma, “Do you, Emma Perkins, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, so long as you both shall live till death do you part?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul closed his eyes as she smiled and nodded, tears filling her own eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m so sorry, Emma,” he whispered before she gave Hidgens her answer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck yeah, I do…” she whispered, laughing as she did. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles as Hidgens smiled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then, by the power vested in me by nobody in particular,” he said with dramatic gusto, “I now pronounce you husband and wife…”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Hidgens could even get the words out that they could, Emma pulled 23 into a deep, loving, and passionate kiss, which he readily reciprocated, his arms wrapping around her lovingly as he pulled her deeper into it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The crowd erupted into a chorus of celebratory cheers, Bill sobbing happily as they did. People stood and clapped, laughing and cheering as 23 and Emma smiled at one another and kissed again, excitedly and happily.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul could only find himself staring, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to impact the life that had once been his.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Unable to walk away, or tear his eyes away from the newlywed couple, Paul simply let the silent tears fall. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: April 26th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Emma sighed and rolled over rubbing at her eyes, groaning under her breath as her head hurt. Her eyes felt raw, feeling like she’d been crying way too much, or she’d spent too long trying to avoid crying.</p><p>Something inside of her just felt...heavy. </p><p>And it wasn’t the fact that she was literally carrying a baby inside of her. For whatever reason she could explain, she felt empty.</p><p>She stretched out, one of her arms going out to feel for Paul’s warmth. Just knowing that he was there was enough for her to calm down and feel safe. As her hand skimmed across the sheets, however, she only found that his side of the bed was excruciatingly cold. </p><p>
  <em> What the hell? </em>
</p><p>Her heart pounded in her chest as she suddenly felt much more awake, her eyes flying open to look at his side of the bed. In the dim light of their room, she could see his side of the bed was abandoned, and judging from the state of the apartment itself, it didn’t look like he’d gotten up to leave the room.</p><p>“Paul?” she whispered, her eyes darting around to look for him. </p><p>Where the hell was-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She felt like she’d been punched in the gut as she remembered what had happened, the images of the small quarantine bay holding too many of the people who mattered to her...including Paul.</p><p>She shuddered at the remembrance of the sight, her throat suddenly feeling as if it was clogged up as if she was choking on the memory itself. She fought back against the painful tears which burned at the back of her eyes. </p><p>The bed felt so empty without him. So cold. And suddenly she felt alone. </p><p>She wasn’t alone, she knew, not when she had people looking after her...but knowing that Paul wasn’t there filled her with an emptiness she couldn’t describe…knowing that he’d fallen into a trap that Webby herself had designed...knowing that they still had no idea how to save him...she was left feeling hopeless by it.</p><p>God...of course, there had been moments in her life when she’d seen him like that...when he looked more dead than alive...but this...why did this feel different?</p><p>When she’d seen him her thoughts had instantly gone to when he’d been infected. Back when they’d been confronted with a fake Hidgens just after she’d gotten him back. Even then, despite how hopeless she’d felt when he’d been kept away from her, she’d known that he would come back to her. She knew she wouldn’t stop fighting until she got him back. But this time...this time she just felt...tired.</p><p>Why did this always happen?</p><p>Why did they think they’d had a chance at happiness before it was all stolen away by some strange thing they couldn’t define or reverse before it was too late.</p><p>She hated knowing that there was a problem that was in existence that she could do nothing about, and the problem concerned the one person she loved more than anything else in the world.</p><p>God, she just felt exhausted, like her every cell was telling her to give up. That this was the same shit she always found them dealing with every single day, only this time it felt like it might be final. She wanted so desperately to keep fighting, but why would she if it was fucking pointless? </p><p>Seven people in her life had been taken from her. </p><p>Seven people who probably had done next to nothing to deserve it.</p><p>Lucy Stockworth, for example, had been in Hatchetfield to look for a <em> local cryptid. </em>She had no business with the Lords in Black and nothing she’d done had irritated them in any way. She wanted to teach school children for fuck’s sake! She’d been protecting those children, including her nephew, when she’d been attacked. What had Lucy ever done to piss them off?</p><p>Then there was Bill. Sweet, earnest, loyal, well-meaning, Bill. The man had only wanted a safe place when he’d come to PEIP, hadn’t he? His best friend had disappeared from existence, only to reappear and the world to end less than a few weeks later. Bill had only been trying to connect with his daughter and lead a normal life when the world had come crashing down around them, not only that, but he’d lost his sight when he’d been attacked. What had he ever done to deserve that?</p><p>Then, of course, there was Ted. She was fairly certain Ted could piss anyone off if he tried hard enough, but what had he done to undergo everything that had happened to him in the past. Of course, he was a fucking bastard and Emma would never forgive him for attacking her, Paul, and jeopardizing the life of their child, but before the portal incident, he’d been relatively normal. True, he was a selfish, deeply-flawed, fucking creepy sicko, whom she didn’t like at all, but at the base of it all, he was a normal human being trying to survive. And while all of his flaws would have done well to draw the Beings of the Black and White to him...this T’Noy Karaxis, as they were pretty sure the being who’d seized control of Ted’s mind was named, she felt sorry for him to a certain extent. </p><p>It made sense why Tom had been attacked. He was a very powerful man within the organization that sought to oppose the Lords in Black and their power, but why would they take him? He’d been trying to make the world a better place for his son, who was now staying with Becky while they tried to figure out where to go from here. True, he was powerful, but how fucking heartless did you need to be to rob a child of his father. His attack made more sense than the others, but that didn’t make it any less painful.</p><p>Then there was Hannah and Lex Foster… Man, those two amazed her. In both of those girls, she could see so much power and pride, something she wished she and Jane had been when they were kids. The loyalty and love they had for one another was something she’d never had when she was their age and she admired them deeply for it. In some ways, she saw herself in the way Lex viewed the world, but she also saw something better than how she’d been. She saw hope and the chance for something greater...if only the world had been fucking kind for once. And Hannah...oh, God...Hannah was so smart and powerful in ways that nobody could ever comprehend. The girl had seen so much in her lifetime (and she was still very much a child), but she never lost her sense of self which seemed to radiate a strange, contemplative kind of joy. Like Tom, the attack on Lex had made sense...after all, she was part of one of the most powerful bloodlines on earth, and she had probably pissed off a few Lords in Black once she’d brought Paul, Ethan, and John back into existence, but she was just a kid. Of fucking course that didn’t matter to the Lords in Black, and they probably didn’t have a soul between all six of them...but Lex and Hannah were still <em> kids. </em>They deserved to lead normal lives where they didn’t have to worry about their world-ending almost every single day. </p><p>Then Hannah had chosen to follow Lex into the dark...and they hadn’t known what to do with it. </p><p>And then there was Paul…</p><p>She shuddered again at the memory. </p><p>It was the same old fucking game with these ‘Lords’. </p><p>Couldn’t they just have stayed on the sidelines for once? She knew it was selfish to think like that, but she was getting pretty damn tired of worrying that she or Paul was going to die every five seconds. She was getting tired of worrying whether or not today would be the day he’d die again and there would be no way for her to get him back. The fact remained that she was able to get him back in the past was a miracle enough, and they had a habit of pulling one another back because it ‘wasn’t time for them yet’ according to Hannah...but what if she couldn’t save him this time? </p><p>She shook those thoughts away as she tried to think about the meeting, trying to think about where they would go from here. Thinking about anything besides Paul.</p><p>Their meeting with Hidgens the day before had ended up lasting until about four AM, with them discussing everything they already knew and ideas of how to get them out. Besides brain-dumping and discussing the nauseating idea of Paul being dead in his Nightmare, they’d come up with no ideas of getting people out and no definitive way of contacting him. For just a moment there, Emma had tried to communicate with him the way they had when they’d been in the caves together, but she couldn’t do anything. Hidgens, of course, had been granted full-time access to the labs and quarantine bays, since it was determined that they required his knowledge on the Black and White and his experiences in Nightmare Time to fully understand what had happened, and how Hannah herself managed to find her way there herself. They’d even tested if physical contact was truly the way that Hannah was able to access the Black and White, with John holding Tom’s arm in a way of testing it on himself...but to no avail. While they had put some heavy discussion on the table, it was widely fruitless, and they were no closer to understanding what had happened to them. </p><p>She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her eyes hurt so much, making the throbbing in her head seem like it was all the more painful. </p><p>She’d watched as Kamaria and her medical team collected more samples from each of the victims, even adding Hannah onto their list. It had even gotten to the point at which Ethan was escorted out of the room, and was now staying with John and Xander rather than being by himself in the small apartment he’d shared with Lex and Hannah. She was thankful for that, as she hadn’t wanted the boy to be alone, and she was grateful for Becky in the regard that she’d take care of Tim. While it had been some trouble when they’d last all been in the infirmary, the fact remained that Becky was completely capable of taking care of Tim, and they’d determined it was better for him to stay with her since Tom was “incapacitated”, according to Hidgens. </p><p>After the meeting had finished, John had ordered her, Becky, and Ethan to take the day off when it came to working, claiming they all needed to be rested in order to properly confront the issue, but Emma hadn’t been able to sleep well at all. </p><p>She hadn’t wanted to leave Paul. But she had. </p><p>The guilt of it all was enough to gnaw away at her and make sleep difficult.</p><p>She’d slept, yes...but it was fitful and intermittent, and somehow she kept forgetting that Paul was gone every single time she woke up, and each painful reminder was more painful than the last. </p><p>It was probably midday now, but Emma didn’t feel like getting up. She should have taken a Tylenol for the headache... which would probably make sleep come easier, but she lacked the motivation to move. </p><p>She tried to close her eyes again. Not to sleep, but to dull the pain of the faint light against her eyes, her hand going to her stomach as if it was the only thing keeping her from sinking into nothingness. </p><p>She didn’t want to do this without him. </p><p>She didn’t know if she <em> could </em> do this without him.</p><p>In some ways, the fact that they were having a baby seemed a lot less daunting when she was with him. Though he was probably even more nervous about it than she was, just knowing that he was all in when it came to their family was enough to make her feel strong enough to do it. To feel like maybe she could be a capable mother. </p><p>God, they didn’t know how long this would last. </p><p>Or if it would ever end. </p><p>A lump rose in her throat as a wave of nausea overtook her.</p><p>What if they couldn’t save them? </p><p>What if this killed all of them, and Paul never came home?</p><p>She wasn’t a worrier. She never allowed her mind to run off with all of the what-ifs, but when it came to Paul and <em> this... </em>she felt worry, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before overcoming her. </p><p>What if their kid would never know him?</p><p>God, the idea of their child never knowing him was one of the scariest thoughts to ever cross her mind. The notion that their kid would never know how much their father loved them, loved both her and their unborn baby, was terrifying to her. </p><p>She felt tears bloom, stinging at the rawness of her eyes and making her head throb even more as she found herself filled with that tired heaviness.</p><p>So much of her was so ready to cry out ‘no more’ to the world. To tell the world that she was done with taking every ounce of its bullshit and raise her middle finger high as she did. She was tired of all of this. Of all this fear and worry that came to her in endless torrents. Emma never used to live in fear until she was given something to lose and a world where she could easily lose it. And the chances of losing Paul were extremely high right now.</p><p>She couldn’t do that. Not again.</p><p>She’d already lost him so many times, it seemed…and she was just tired of all the times she found herself thinking that. </p><p>She was just <em> tired. </em></p><p>How much shit had their small family already seen?</p><p>After all, they had lifetimes of apocalypses that they’d lived through, which John, Paul, and Ethan had all watched from within the Black and White...no, not lived through...they’d all died in each of them, hadn’t they?</p><p>In the past reset, he’d died and she’d been left feeling this way, hadn’t she?</p><p>Then she couldn’t remember he’d ever existed, that he’d ever meant something to her. </p><p>Would that have been better than feeling like this?</p><p>She knew the answer would have to have been no. She couldn’t imagine doing that again, either...living in a world where she’d never been able to love him. Where he meant nothing to her...she couldn’t imagine. </p><p>But losing him…</p><p>She couldn’t stop the sob that left her as that thought crossed her mind again. It hurt how familiar it was. How many times she’d thought about what would happen should she ever lose him. </p><p>Tears poured down her face as hoarse, silent sobs leaving her, curling in on herself as grief filled her. She hated crying like this, but she couldn’t stop herself as it crashed over her in endless, daunting waves. Her hands shakily and weakly went to her face as she tried desperately to stifle the sobs that made themselves known, threatening to pull her under in their vast waves of wrath and drown her. As she cried, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if the world itself was looking its nose down at her and made her feel exceptionally small. She felt weak and filled with pain as she cried, releasing the stress, anger, and fatigue that she felt. </p><p>She was done. </p><p>She didn’t feel like she could do this anymore.</p><p>She didn’t-</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, she felt a small fluttering in her stomach, almost as if her stomach was growling, but she wasn’t hungry. </p><p>“What the…” she muttered to herself through her raspy voice, when she was met by another fluttering sensation. </p><p>A small, tear-filled gasp left her as she realized just what was happening at that very moment.</p><p>Her hand went gently to her stomach, running gently over her slightly protruding patch of skin as the sensation persisted. Tears continued to slip down her face, but the tiredness and anger started to slip away as she looked down, being replaced with wonder and slight fear she couldn’t understand. </p><p>It was the baby. </p><p>The baby was moving.  </p><p>She smiled tearfully to herself as she was reminded of the life she was holding.</p><p>She and Paul had created that little life.</p><p>This little spark of wonder and joy that they’d brought into existence.</p><p>“God, Paul…” she whispered to herself as she allowed the grief and the pain. </p><p>He should have been here. </p><p>He could hear the baby’s heartbeat as clearly as he could hear her own, but before this, she’d only had the sonograms as a small part to remind herself that she was carrying their child, minus all of the physical symptoms that were sometimes less than pleasant.  But this…</p><p>She sighed as more tears dripped down her cheeks, soaking up the feeling that perhaps she wasn’t entirely alone.</p><p>She wished Paul were here. He’d probably cry once he realized their baby had started moving. He was going to be a fantastic father, she knew. He’d probably be anxious at first, unsure of what to do the second their child was delivered into the world...but he’d love their baby just as much as he loved her. He’d be gentle, loving, figuring things out as he went, but patient...just as patient as he was with her. He’d probably be terrified of messing up, but she knew that their baby would love him.  </p><p>God, he should be here.</p><p>He should have been okay. </p><p>He should have been healthy and safe, not on the counterpoint of life and death. </p><p>He should have been here to share in the wonder and excitement that she was feeling. </p><p>And the fact remained that he wasn’t, and it made tears slip down her face faster as she was reminded of that.</p><p>Wherever his mind was trapped, she hoped this would reach him.</p><p>She knew it wouldn’t, but the hope was enough for her to cling onto. </p><p>It might not have been much, but was enough for her to hold onto for now.</p><p><em> “H-hi…” </em> she whispered, running her hand gently over her stomach as the tears continued to fall, “ <em> Hi, b-baby… I’m your mama…” </em></p><p>Though the tears still fell, and Emma was still filled with grief and tiredness, she found herself clinging onto that little bit of hope that was growing inside of her with each passing day. </p><p>And very soon, she found herself falling asleep once more.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> The sound of somewhat romantic music played through the air, barely audible over the sound of the playful chatter and small talk of the wedding guests. Lovely string lights lit up one of the larger rooms in the Natural History museum casting the room in some sort of ethereal glow, capturing a warm, lovely air.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The perfect air for seduction.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was a common consensus among the guests that the ceremony was beautiful. Even with the unexpected intervention halfway through, they all agreed that the wedding was easily one of the most beautiful weddings they’d ever been to.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted agreed, which was why he was truly looking forward to this next part.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The reception was supposed to start about an hour after the wedding service ended for photography to be taken of the newly married couple as well as the wedding party, which gave Ted enough time to freshen up his looks hopefully well enough to impress anyone who was mildly fuckable. As he sat amongst the people waiting for the arrival of the small wedding party and the new Mr. and Mrs. Matthews-Perkins (were Paul and Emma hyphenating? That seemed like something they would have done), he looked for potential hits that he could talk to. He spotted Charlotte sitting at the bar already and sipping at what he was fairly certain was a vodka martini while Sam, a few feet away was talking up the hot barista from Beanies. There were some attractive people where he might scope out a potential hookup, though he could always fall back on Charlotte if he was unsuccessful. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed, his eyes tracing over the dimly lit room. He wished they’d simply start already so he could begin his endeavors, once everyone was there, he could do his best work. God, leave it to Emma to be stupid enough to not have any bridesmaids feeling sorry for themselves that they’d bang the first person who asked.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As if on cue, the DJ hired for the event went on the microphone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, folks, it’s that time, if I could have all of your attention, put your hands together for the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews-Perkins...or whatever it is they choose to go by.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everyone turned to the double door entryway to see the doors open and Paul and Emma walked in, hand-in-hand, smiling only at one another as they did, as cheers and clapping broke out amongst the room. Ted slowly clapped, simply waiting for the two to walk over to their table for the festivities to break out, and then he could begin his search.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Man...Emma looked hot.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe she’d be up for spending her wedding night with another man? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He watched as Paul gently kissed Emma on the forehead, smiling down at her before Bill called him over to discuss something, leaving Emma staring down at the place setting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Perfect. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He straightened his tie as he made his way over to her, looking over to see Paul and Bill in deep discussion as he approached Emma. She didn’t look up from the floral arrangements on the table as he did. Typical.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cleared his throat as he got into proximity with her and she looked up, her face falling as she noticed him. She sighed and turned to ignore him once more. He was unbothered by this as he moved in to make his move. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Damn, girl,” he greeted, leaning in, to the point at which she scooted away, looking like she didn’t even want to waste energy rebuffing him, “You’re looking real sexy in that getup.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She didn’t acknowledge him, staring down at the ground with a look of annoyance as he continued.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Weddings, huh?” he went on, leaning across the table to look at her, </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> “Nothing makes me hornier. How about the two of us sneak off, find someplace private, where we can perform our own marriage of sorts?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> She looked up at him, a disgusted look on her face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Great, she was making eye-contact.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That usually meant he’d be successful.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your ring, my finger,” he continued, staring at her, “Huh? What do you say?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He punctuated the implications of his ‘proposal’ with the lewdest gesture he could think of while Emma just stared at him, the most annoyed expression he thought the woman capable of painting her face. In some ways, she looked like she was unsurprised...maybe even into it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Damn, if this worked...  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you seriously trying to pick me up at my own wedding?” she scoffed, glaring at him pointedly. Before he could answer she scoffed again in annoyance, “God...you are such a fucking creep.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, she turned and went over to join Paul. He called after her as she walked off.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m the fucking creep?” he called, “ I’m a fucking creep for thinking the bride looks beautiful? You know what, Emma, you don’t need to be so nasty, all right? You could have just said ‘No, thank you, Ted’ and I would have been fine with it...God...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma didn’t even look over her shoulder as she took Paul’s arm, standing beside him as she tried to avoid Ted even further. Ted groaned. He could find some other promising mark elsewhere.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyes locked on Charlotte, standing by the bar still, probably on her third martini by now. Sam was still standing beside that hot Barista from Beanie’s, clearly trying to talk the woman up, possibly trying to accomplish the same thing Ted was, only his spouse was only a few feet away from him. Ted, however, wasn’t stupid enough to get married to any of the women he hooked up with. There was no way Sam was paying enough attention to Charlotte to notice that she’d disappear.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sauntered up to Charlotte, smirking smugly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled politely at him, “Hello, Ted...I didn’t realize Paul and Emma had invited you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He bit back any sarcasm or bitterness that welled in his throat at the remark and instead indulged the Spankoffski charm again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Charlotte,” He leaned against the bar, “You’re looking crazy fine tonight…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled bashfully. With a small twinge of sadness, Ted realized that this was probably the first time she’d been paid a compliment about how she looked. And she did look nice in her light blue dress with a pastel pink blazer over it, her russet curls tied back with a pink headband.  </em>
</p><p><em> “How about…” he leaned in, whispering to her in his most sultry voice, “You and I go and find a closet somewhere...where I can try on </em> your <em> wedding ring for size...huh, how about that?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Charlotte clearly got the implication and blushed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Damn, he was good. Charlotte was always up for a self-pitying bang when Sam was chasing after some pretty young thing. Tonight was truly his night. With little to no effort at all, he’d hear someone say… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No thank you, Ted,” Charlotte spoke meekly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?!” He groaned and turned on her, “Oh, c’mon, Charlotte!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My husband’s right over there, Ted,” She gestured to where the barista from Beanies and Sam were practically making out in the corner. She looked confused for a moment, “And...why do you wanna try on my wedding ring anyway?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted just stared at her before sighing, “My debonair lines are just wasted on you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She took another sip from her drink as he turned away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Okay...that was only strike two...he still had a few more chances before he gave up completely.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He watched as the guests made their way through the small buffet that Paul and Emma had planned, scoping out literally anyone at the wedding who was worth his time and might be a little bit more receptive. His eyes landed on the cat-eye-glasses-wearing figure of Sylvia from the top floor. He’d always thought that she was pretty hot...maybe a little uptight, but still hot. As far as he knew, she was single and probably hadn’t gotten any good action in a while. And that Jersey accent was definitely hot...maybe she’d be up for something special with him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He approached her as she stood, around her table, waiting for her table to go up and get food.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sylvia, from the top floor…” she nodded at him, giving him a blank expression of ‘who are you?’ as if she didn’t quite recognize his face but he was vaguely familiar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Okay...so that gave him the man of mystery element.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That could work for him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know what?” he said, putting on his best sleazy grin, “You can get on top of me whenever you want. You know what I mean, cowgirl?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence as she just stared at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Okay, this was good. He’d stunned her speechless. Maybe this was it. He could probably get a cheap hotel room somewhere, and he was fairly certain he still had stuff in his wallet. This was perfect. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His thoughts were interrupted as a face of disgust even greater than that of Emma’s from a few moments before crossed the woman’s face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ugh,” she scoffed, “If my man saw you talking to me like that…he’d kick your...head…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, a man wrapped his arm around Sylvia’s shoulders and she grinned, seemingly melting into his arms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked up to see Bill, looking at her fondly before turning to him, a look of contempt on his face, “We got a problem here, Spankoffski?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What the hell? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How the hell had Bill gotten a hook-up before he did? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost instantaneously, Sylvia’s fiery facade melted and she swooned.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, Billy,” she blushed and he smiled down at her sweetly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted had to stifle a gag. The presence of pet names meant this had to have been happening longer than he’d thought. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted, however, was very confused, “How the hell did this happen?!?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill said nothing and instead led Sylvia over to the food, chatting with her as they both smiled and laughed like teenagers in puppy love. He groaned and resolved to pout at the bar, where he spotted Hidgens, already halfway through his own beer as he stared dramatically into the distance, looking just as dramatic as ever, but also just as miserable. He sat beside him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Hidge,” he greeted.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ted!” Hidgens eyes widened as he clapped him on the back, “How are you doing, my boy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Not great,” Ted sighed dramatically, gesturing dramatically to the bartender to give him a drink, “I can't believe it. Everyone here is getting laid tonight but me...this wedding is bullshit.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re telling me, brother.” Hidgens sipped his beer, staring contemplatively into the distance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know what you should do if you’re lonely?” Hidgens spoke clearly as he set his beer down, “Get a robot. An Alexa maybe. Siri will talk to you all night.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Ted could even consider what the man meant, Hidgens’ phone chimed from its place in his pocket, the small faint of Siri's voice chiming into the conversation with a monotonous, “I’m sorry, what was that?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens made a sly little grin as he glanced down at his pocket and shed his jacket dramatically on the back of his barstool, “Not now Siri, you little vixen…” making a small seductive face at nobody in particular, “Later my dear...later…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted chuckled slightly before shaking his head, “Yeah, but... you can’t have sex with a robot, dude.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens glanced at Ted with a twinkle in his eye, “Oh, that’s where you’re dead wrong bucko…” he removed the small white piece of material under his collar, which made him look like he was a man of the cloth, as he spoke, “With a little imagination and some elbow grease, you can have sex with anything.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled a little, “Life finds a way, my friend…” his voice picked up a little in pitch as he went on, “Life finds a way.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t get it, Hidge.” Ted sighed, staring into the small glass of some alcoholic beverage that he suddenly couldn’t remember ordering, “I used to love going to weddings... A bunch of horny, jealous bridesmaids looking for love and settling for a sloppy sad-bang in a cheap hotel room. It was a magical thing.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Maybe when you were younger, but that well has run dry, my friend,” Hidgens shook his head, “Everyone’s coupled up! But where does that leave men like us? On the sidelines...left with nothing but regrets.” his eyes trailed off fondly as he continued, “And the memories...of the good old days…in that little house on the edge of the college campus…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah...I remember college,” Ted sighed, staring off into the distance, “Things were different then. I was different then.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and looked down at his glass, watching as he swirled the amber fluid around in the small glass, “Not the tornado of sexual charisma I am now...I was even in love…real love...with a real woman. Like...that’s how I viewed her...as a person. Not just a collection of curves and crevices.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens nodded haphazardly as he took a sip of his own drink, nodding him on.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “ Jenny…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted smiled softly as the name left his lips, “My Jenny…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The image of the fiery redhead stoner girl that he’d fallen in love with in his more innocent years appeared in his mind. Though she was fiery and rebellious in every single way, for whatever reason, she was also the sweetest and one of the most compassionate people he’d ever known. She was precious to him in that regard, and he’d never known what he’d done in the world to deserve her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The truth, however, was that she was never his.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And he lost her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The best friend I ever had,” he sighed, looking down, “But I was a wimp...I never even told her how I felt.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cursed himself for being so weak, so fearful back in those days. He’d been such a fool when he’d believed she didn’t love him back. He knew he should have just gone for it. Who knew what would happen? Why had he been so afraid of failure that he’d neglected to tell her how he felt? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and continued his sob story to Hidgens.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I remember the night I...uh…” he sighed, “I lost her for good.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He bit back the wave of bitterness that rose in him at the memory of that terrible evening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “October 17th, 2004,” he remembered, “I was in my apartment….trying to work up the nerve to make a move. Y’know, with a little liquid courage….” he swirled his drink as he spoke for effect, “Guess I had one too many and passed out. Alone.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked down, remembering what it had been like to wake up alone the next morning, with a terrible headache and his heart aching as he’d realized he’d been so stupid, finding the message from Jenny as he did. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I got a letter the next day. It was from Jenny,” he stared down at his glass, the next words leaving him bitterly, “Turns out she was in love with me too.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emphasis on ‘was’. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Said she couldn’t see me anymore,” Ted whispered, bitterness in his tone as he spoke, “It was too painful…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed as he spoke the ugliest truth about that terrible day, “Some guy...was bolder than me. Asked her to move with him to Clivesdale, so I never saw her again.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens hummed noncommittally as Ted continued his rant.  </em>
</p><p><em> “I lost the love of my life to some pushy asshole,” he vented, “So...I </em> became <em> that pushy asshole! And I never looked back, until now.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Hidgens nodded, patting Ted on the back, “Well...you can’t change the past…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stared off into the distance, looking contemplative for a moment before muttering, “Something like that...happened to me once... me...and Chad-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t give a fuck!” Ted stood and decided to move away from Hidgens before he could allow his mind to run away and trap him in another long period of simply having to listen to the man rant dramatically. While he enjoyed the company of the man who was probably a more refined version of a bastard as he was, he didn’t want to take his dramatics for much longer tonight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, why did he have to bring up Jenny? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He supposed he had what had happened between him and Jenny to thank for his becoming who he was...but he couldn’t deny how much of an open and raw wound on his life she had been. He supposed he could thank whatever pushy man had forced her to be in his life...and yet, he knew there was some part of him that wished he could deck the man so hard he’d die right there. Part of him wanted to find him but was too lazy and too miserable to do so. In some ways, the knowledge that he’d missed his chance with Jenny had helped him realize the benefit of just hooking up with whoever wanted to. It was better that way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He gestured to the bartender to bring him some vodka, knowing that the day would never get better.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He would let the alcohol wash away whatever rawness and pain that was left behind in his life. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After all, nothing interesting would happen tonight. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Hidgens sighed as he stared at the collection of papers and notes that had been spread out in front of him. There was a great deal of work to be done, especially since they’d finally taken it upon themselves to trust him with their information, trusting him with the lives of the seven victims. </p><p>This was something he was unwilling to break.</p><p>He couldn’t believe the sins that the demon wearing his skin had done. Even before the daydream had opened and parts of his soul had been corrupted by Nightmare Time in itself, he could see some of the things that the imposter of himself had done. While a great part of him had been excited by the notion of having a powerful being living in his skin, another part of him had been terrified. He was a scientist...not a madman. Perhaps he’d tread way too often on the thin barrier between the two, but he knew that the difference between whatever it was that had impacted the lives of all the people here and himself was the fact that he was now determined to save lives rather than destroy him. </p><p>He’d been so young when he and his friends had been recruited to PEIP by his aunt. He’d been so excited by the idea of figuring out the world they lived in on a level that few people believed in. He was looking for proof of a world greater than their own, and yet, all they found was death. </p><p>Not death for him. No. While his friends had all been killed, his favorite workin’ boys all dead and dismembered within the vast expanse of the Black and White, his soul was left alive. His soul was forced to wander that great void like Paul, John, and Ethan, only he was supposed to be alone. In some ways he found himself torn apart as he was forced to watch the world move on. Watching the world end time and time again. While it was indeed interesting to watch the way the demon in his skin lived his life out, following the life that he probably would have lived out, the months before the world had ended were horrifying for him to watch. </p><p>Now he was back. His reputation was tarnished by the workings of a madman who’d worn his face, and he’d had to learn very quickly what it was like to live again. </p><p>He turned to the files he’d composed, looking at each one he’d made for each of the victims. He’d spent the day that John had assigned for rest, using the approved abilities that John and Xander had provided to him in order to compile all of the medical files and information gathered in regards to all of the victims. He’d collected these papers and key bullet points about the dreams before all of this and had placed them on the board before him, at the very least trying to visualize the connections between them, but he wasn’t sure that he could at the very least come up with some connections between the dreams, or the patient's overall.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy Angela Stockworth: </p><ul>
<li>Age 23</li>
<li>British Duchess (formerly), Teacher</li>
<li>Engaged to be married </li>
<ul>
<li>Fiance’s name is Jonathan Brisby</li>
</ul>
</ul><ul>
<li>Seeing visions of her presumably dead fiance before her collapse</li>
<li>At least two bullet-wounds in the figure</li>
<li>No connection to Ted Spankoffski</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Bill Woodward:</p><ul>
<li>Age 43</li>
<li>Analyst within the Information Department</li>
<li>Divorced</li>
<ul>
<li>Has a daughter named Alice with his ex-wife,</li>
</ul>
<li>Daughter reports subject having dreams of mundanity and ex-wife </li>
<li>Went blind following the attacks on February seventh</li>
<ul>
<li>Potential connection to Watcher?</li>
</ul>
<li>No nightmares of much severity, according to daughter</li>
<li>Daughter’s name is Alice Woodward</li>
<li>Former coworker of Ted Spankoffski</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Paul Matthews:</p><ul>
<li>Age 32</li>
<li>Analyst and intelligence officer within the Information department</li>
<li>In a long-term relationship with Emma Perkins</li>
<ul>
<li>He is soul-bonded with Emma Perkins</li>
<li>Created a pocket dimension with the aforesaid.</li>
<li>They’re expecting a child in early October</li>
</ul>
<li>Perkins reports subject having frequent nightmares of replacement by a doppelganger (not entirely corroborated)</li>
<li>Vitals are much weaker than other victims (possibly dead within nightmare time?)</li>
<li>Descendent of Willabella Muckwab and is capable of hearing the thoughts and voices of others, as well as other physical sounds from a far way away (though, reportedly, not indulged often)</li>
<li>Former coworker of Ted Spankoffski</li>
<ul>
<li>Partner, Emma Perkins, was attacked by Spankoffski a few months ago, claiming she was a robot</li>
</ul>
</ul><p> </p><p>Ted Spankoffski</p><ul>
<li>Age 36</li>
<li>Tech Support working in the Technology department</li>
<li>Unmarried</li>
<ul>
<li>Frequent philandering and serial womanizer</li>
</ul>
<li>Multiple incidents involving the Black in White and potential Lord in Black involvement</li>
<ul>
<li>Portal Incident of January 27th and subsequent catatonia</li>
<li>Attack on Emma Perkins- claiming she was a robot (potential significance?) </li>
<li>Attacks of February Seventh- self-inflicted injection with Venom</li>
<li>Nightmare Time Victim</li>
<li>A potential favorite of a Lord in Black</li>
</ul>
<li>During his time in and out of consciousness, often mentioned the name of a (dead) woman called Jenny (potential significance?)</li>
<li>No indication of what his Nightmare Time is.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Tom Houston:</p><ul>
<li>Age 37</li>
<li>Holds the rank of Captain, head of Operations and Mechanics department </li>
<li>Widower, in a long term relationship with Becky Barnes</li>
<ul>
<li>Wife, Jane Perkins, is deceased and now an inhabitant of the daydream pocket dimension created by Emma and Paul.</li>
<li>Perkins and Houston have a son, Tim Houston</li>
</ul>
<li>Had Nightmares involving deceased wife, according to </li>
<li>His aunt, Cynthia Houston, was connected with the Black and White, as well as the entity known as Webby.</li>
<li>No connection to Ted Spankoffski</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Lex Foster:</p><ul>
<li>Age 18</li>
<li>Adolescent student</li>
<li>In a relationship with Ethan Green </li>
<ul>
<li>Soul-bonded to Green, as well as younger sister, Hannah Foster</li>
</ul>
<li>Nightmares of separation from Green and Foster</li>
<li>Descendent of Willabella Muckwab, with powers of tangibility within the Black and White</li>
<li>No previous connection to Ted Spankoffski. </li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Hannah Foster: </p><ul>
<li>Age 11</li>
<li>Adolescent</li>
<li>Soul-bonded to sister and her sister’s boyfriend, Ethan Green, in a sibling fashion</li>
<li>Sacrificed herself to Nightmare Time, proclaiming that this was the way for her to ‘fix it’ </li>
<li>Is she in Lex’s Nightmare Time for her own?</li>
<li>Descendent of Willabella Muckwab, with powers of foresight and prophecy, as well as psychic powers of immense proportions.</li>
<li>Whether or not she was of sound mind and body when she made the choice to sacrifice herself to Webby’s venom is under question. </li>
<li>What is it that she saw?</li>
<li>How did the venom transmit?/How did she access Nightmare Time?</li>
<li>No previous connection to Ted Spankoffski</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Hidgens sighed and cursed under his breath, he hated the fact that the only bullet points he had were vague. Of course, the files had more information than what he’d bulleted, but the fact remained that they had more questions than answers, and everyone was just exhausted.</p><p>He spun around in his office chair and glanced over at the multitude of cubes that stood before him, all large means by which the supposed contaminant would be contained. Although it was determined that contact and air didn’t spread the contaminant, they couldn’t be too careful, and doctors passed in and out of the small areas with extreme precaution, gathering more samples that he and Emma would analyze once she got back down here.</p><p>The poor woman.</p><p>She’d looked so exhausted by the time the meeting had ended, Hidgens had almost recommended sending her to the infirmary for the next evening for observation. For the sake of her child and herself. Seeing how Paul was in the way that he was couldn’t have been easy, and the fact remained that she was pregnant and already being targeted by some of the most powerful beings in the world. He knew his lab assistant was desperate to help all of these people, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what they’d come to mean to her, and yet, he knew she was probably one of the most important people in this game. </p><p>She was powerful. And not in the way so many people presumed. </p><p>Jane knew this, as did he. </p><p>The blood of the Perkins sisters wasn’t like the blood of Willabella Muckwab’s family...they had no connections to the unholy powers of the Black and White, nor the gifts that all of them had been blessed with...but their family was just as tied into this everlasting war as the Muckwabs. </p><p>Jane had told him all about it. </p><p>Which was why it was of the utmost importance that he do everything in his power to protect these people.</p><p>He’d failed to protect one of his charges. </p><p>He turned to look at Jane’s husband, lying still as death inside his own hospital bed. It was strange for Henry to see that the man who’d been memorialized by Jane as strong beyond all imagination suddenly looking so weak. So...fragile. He knew how much Tom had meant to Jane. Though she’d told them her marriage to him wasn’t perfect by any means, she loved him and her son. And it had been his job to perfect them. It had been his job to protect all of them, and he failed her. He’d sworn to her that he’d be the protector of her blood, just as they were the protectors of Hatchetfield against the dark.  Tom might not have been Jane’s blood, but he meant just as much to her, and he should have done better to protect him. </p><p>Then there was Paul and the Foster sisters. </p><p>Paul and both of the Foster sisters might have carried the blood of the woman who’d once been the Perkins family’s greatest enemy, but instead, they were allies, forming together this family that had been previously fragmented. Like pieces of broken, colorful glass, this family had masterfully come together, no longer lost and broken. Regardless of whether or not the bloodlines were age-old enemies, the truth remained that they’d found solace in one another. Found comfort. Hell, Paul and Emma were expecting a child, which meant that the two bloodlines were both together now, no matter what happened. It looked as though the bloodlines had created their own home together. It truly was quite beautiful.</p><p>He knew he’d sworn to Jane that he’d never reveal to Emma the truth behind their bloodlines. Besides, Jane had never figured it out before her death, but if he knew anything about their present circumstances, things might not have turned out that way. </p><p>The truth remained, however, that the bloodlines that were present here, still didn’t draw definitive conclusions about why the people who’d been attacked had been attacked and those who’d been spared. He could look at all of the different bloodlines that remained, Willabella Muckwab’s bloodline, Jane and Emma’s ancestry, even some of the single members of families such as McNamara, Lee, Woodward, hell, even Spankoffski... all names that had shown up at least once in the timeline of the lifelong war against the beings of the Black and White, but he knew that coincidences like that just didn’t occur. They didn’t just show up out of chance.</p><p> Rather, this had to be some vast interweaving of fate.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Indeed it is, Henry.” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He whirled around as a chill crept up his back. He reached for the gun he’d been authorized to use and whirled around. </p><p>He was alone. </p><p>The medical staff had retreated for rounds for a little bit leaving him to supervise the progress of the six seemingly-comatose individuals. </p><p>He didn’t holster his weapon as he whirled around. </p><p>He knew that voice.</p><p>And through the sound of that voice, he knew that he was being watched. </p><p>Webby was watching. </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Tom tapped his feet anxiously on the colorful linoleum floor, his eyes anxiously darting around the room to the entrance of the building itself, waiting for the guest of honor at their small little gathering. He’d been anxious for this meeting for the whole day...actually, for the whole week, when they’d first set up the meeting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course, he knew that he wanted Tim to like Becky, and he wanted Becky to like Tim. All bets were that they’d get along nicely, especially since they were probably the two most likable people he’d ever encountered. They were both vibrant and sweet, and in some ways, he felt like Tim needed more of that in his life. They both needed something sweet while the world was kinder to them both, and he couldn’t deny how his heart fluttered like a teen’s every time they talked, or her name was brought up in a conversation. It was strange. This whole day he’d felt like he was in a daze, almost as if he’d been seeing and hearing everything from underwater. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dad?” he was snapped out of his daze, to look across the table at Tim.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim’s eyes scanned over Tom curiously, “You’re shaking, Dad…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are you talking about?” Tom asked, immediately halting bouncing his foot under the table. He couldn’t let himself be nervous. Tim would be nervous and that was something he didn’t want. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim looked down, looking deep in thought for a moment before looking back up at him, “You wanna switch sides so you don’t have to look at the big kid games?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Part of Tom’s heart melted at his son’s consideration. Jane had always been very good at explaining to Tim what PTSD was, and how it impacted Tom in his everyday life. Because of this, Tim was very good at figuring out when Tom was on edge, and although he was right about the sight of guns putting him on edge, it wasn’t the reason why he was nervous. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey,” he assured his son, “I’m not shaking, alright?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Although...there was that one game, roadkill, in which the sight of two cars slamming violently together, crashing into piles of crumpled rubble that made his stomach twist painfully. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He winced.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> CRASH! </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> BANG! </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> “Tom...wake up!” </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He flinched as he watched the animation of the crumpled cars reset, starting exactly where it had been before. He couldn’t deny that the presence of such games hadn’t made him slightly nauseous.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” he nodded, “Let’s switch sides…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they shuffled around, switching sides, he realized he could see the entrance to Pizza Pete’s far better than before, so he didn’t have to crane his neck uncomfortably around whenever he wanted to look and see if Becky was coming. It was then, that he found himself watching this like a hawk, and realized that Tim took notice of this too. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tim,” he sighed, “I just  want you to like my...friend.” </em>
</p><p><em> “You mean,” Tim raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin he could have only gotten from Jane crossing his face, “Your </em>girlfriend?”</p><p>
  <em> “No!” Tom said, suddenly feeling like the freshman being teased for liking Becky Barnes since the sixth grade. “No...she’s a girl...But we’re old friends.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But,” Tim looked down, his brows furrowing, “You are...intimate.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom felt his face grow red at his son’s words. Between that and his son’s somewhat confused expression, he figured there was no way Tim knew what he meant when he said the word ‘intimate’. Where the hell had he heard that anyway? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Intimate?” he raised his eyebrows as he fought against the blush that was growing across his face, “D-Do you know what that means?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim shrugged his face blank, “It’s what Uncle Paul says.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah...well…” Tom cursed the man inwardly for being so awkward around his son that sometimes the words just came out without realizing what he was saying. How Emma had ended up with someone like Paul, he’d never know. But at least Tim loved Paul, and easily declared him his favorite Uncle (even if he was his only uncle), “Uncle Paul’s a geek who needs to keep his mouth shut.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head. Tim was too young to know about stuff like that. Damn, he’d have to give Tim ‘the talk’ at some point. He shook these thoughts away, making a mental note to invite Paul and Emma over for dinner at some point within the next week. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Anything he’d been flustered about faded away as his eyes caught sight of a woman with beautiful red hair and turquoise scrubs passing through the automatic doors of Pizza Petes, looking only relatively lost. Her eyes scanned around the room before they fell on him and she smiled waving at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Becky Barnes… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, his heart was filled with so much...joy...and light.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, he couldn’t believe he’d been lucky enough to meet her in this lifetime. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright,” he sighed with a happy, albeit nervous, smile, “She’s here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Becky waved and smiled, “Hi!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim’s eyes widened as they fell on the lovely woman, “That’s...Becky Barnes…?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom looked at his son, gauging his reaction to the woman approaching their table. In his son’s brown eyes, he could see some form of confusion, but amazement...as if the boy was still processing that he’d ever looked at the woman, to begin with. But...he didn’t look disgusted or confused in any bad way. In fact, it looked like Tim was almost filled with awe at the mere sight of her...which was something Tom could understand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Tom said carefully as he watched his son’s dark eyes dart between the woman getting to their table and him, “What?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nothing,” Tim smiled softly, shaking his head, “I’m just proud of you, Dad.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Becky approached their booth, she removed her jacket and sat down next to Tom, and almost instantly he felt like smiling wider. Just the fact that she was here was enough to make all of the anxiety and nervousness fade away. She pecked him on the cheek as she sat down, immediately sending chills through Tom.  </em>
</p><p>Get it together, Houston,<em> he chided himself, </em>It’s just Becky.</p><p>
  <em> “I’m so sorry I’m late,” Becky apologized hastily, smiling somewhat nervously, “Bridgette had her operation today, and the parking here is just bananas!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled before smiling at Tim, “Hi, Tim…” she turned to Tom, “I can’t tell you how excited I am. I’m at Pizza Pete’s with two Houston boys, I am the luckiest lady in the whole town.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though the words might have sounded cheesy, Tom knew she meant every single word of it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, little man,” The sound of an obnoxious teenage waiter snapped Tom out of his reverie, “You ready to order now that your mom’s here?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She’s not my mom,” Tim responded quickly, even though the words weren’t bitter or angry at the implication of Becky being his mother, “My dad’s just intimate with her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They both froze and blushed immediately at the words. Tom cursed Paul again in his mind as neither of them could find the words in response.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before either of them could say anything, Tim hopped out of his seat and grabbed Becky’s arm gently, excitement in his eyes, “You wanna play Zombie House?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Becky’s eyes widened at the ten-year-old’s exuberance, “Um...yes! It’s not scary, is it?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could respond, Tim pulled Becky out of the booth and she followed eagerly, flashing Tom a small nervous smile over her shoulder as they went to the brightly colored, neon arcade.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom smiled at Becky before turning back to the teenager, who looked confused, “Yeah...can we just get a large Cheesy Pete and a pitcher of coke.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “Whoa..” The teen held up a hand, “Slow down, sir!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The teenager muttered to himself as he peered down at his small notebook, testing Tom’s patience as he muttered the first part of the order to himself, “...And a pitcher of what?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Coke,” Tom deadpanned. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the teen walked away, Tom turned around and looked to where Tim and Becky were playing his son’s favorite games as the screen depicted Zombies hoarding around all of them. Both of them were giggling as Tim pointed out how badly Becky was playing, the orange plastic fake gun in her arms being held somewhat awkwardly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Quick, shoot ’em!” Tim was giggling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shoot them?” Becky looked somewhat confused, “What if I wanna help them?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim giggled again, “C’mon, you’re gonna die!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled as he watched his son laugh with Becky, the both of them looking excited and joyful as the loud game blared and made noises that would have normally annoyed Tom. It made him sad to realize that Tim hadn’t had this much fun since...since Jane. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook those thoughts away before the telltale crash and bang could echo in his mind. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a loud sound of a crash, he could see Becky’s video game character being overtaken by the zombies, ripped apart as Tim giggled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, they got me,” Becky grinned, looking down at the small, softly-smiling boy beside her, “Not very good, am I?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim shrugged, “Just continue…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” Becky smiled again, “But I’m really gonna need your help.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Help… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Help. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something wasn’t right. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This wasn’t okay... </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” he was snapped out of his thoughts as the teenage waiter returned with the pizza and the pitcher of the coke for the three of them, “We’ve got one large Cheesy Pete and a pitcher of diet coke...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom didn’t have the patience to correct the teen on his mistake and nodded, looking over his shoulder to watch as Becky died again, his son laughing and smiling like he hadn’t done before. He waved them over, signaling to them that the food had arrived. He watched as Tim gently took Becky’s hand and started to excitedly lead her over to the booth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, he’d do anything to see that smile last forever.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Somehow just seeing Becky, smiling, laughing, and getting along with his son just felt so right. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If this was a dream, it was one he never wanted to wake up from. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strike> “Tom, wake up!!”  </strike>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Paul needs all of the hugs right now. He is in *pain*.</p><p>Emma's in pain too. She's just seen so much crap and she's tired...but hey, at least she has the baby with her.</p><p>Notice how Ted didn't break the italicized text? Wonder what that means for him?</p><p>Wonder what Hidgens' discovery means? What does Webby want with them?</p><p>Also, Tom is smitten with Becky...but who's trying to wake him up?</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos! I really appreciate anything you guys have to say feedback-wise about this work! Once again, thank you so much for putting up with my really long chapters, I know they're a lot when it comes to content, but I'm hoping to shorten them slightly (we'll just have to see if I'm successful or not lol).</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! I really appreciate you guys for taking the time to read my work! Please stay safe, healthy, and be kind to yourselves!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. I Loved and I Lost You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Becky reminisces on her life with the Houstons<br/>Hidgens is approached with a harrowing deal</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this chapter comes from the song 'Hurts Like Hell' by Fleurie</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of an abusive relationship, abusive language (past), Murder in self-defense, imprisonment, mentions of parental abuse, murder threats, Schaeffer, Spider Bitch</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: May 4th, 2019</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Becky smiled down at Tim, as she retrieved her keycard from her pocket in one hand, holding the white flowers they’d gotten from the small produce booth that had been established, “We’ve gotta be quick, okay? Remember, you’ve still got school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim pouted as they made their way to the quarantine bay, almost dragging his feet as she reminded him of what was required of him, “Can’t I just stay with them? I don’t want them to be lonely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, buddy,” she sighed, her heart ached as she took notice of his downtrodden expression, “But I’m sure your dad would want you to stay in school, yes? Miss Lucy too? And your Uncle Paul, of course…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, staring down at the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed to herself. It had been over a week since they’d all collapsed, and from what Emma and the Professor had seen, there had been no changes in the conditions of any of the victims. It was hard for them all, and she knew it. Still, they kept working in hopes that someday, something would be revealed to them all. Something that would help them save the lives of the people who mattered most to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been in and out of the quarantine bay, not being assigned to work their ward for more than three days per week, but she did go in and see Tom as often as she could, often taking Tim with her. The boy had been working so hard to keep a stiff upper lip for her sake, trying to be strong any time his father and the other people who meant the world to him were brought up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She and Emma had worked out a schedule of taking care of him, considering how Tom was currently unavailable to help out. Becky would make sure Tim would be ready for school fed breakfast and had his rations for lunch, and then she’d go and work in the infirmary for the entirety of her shift. Emma would have her shift in the labs and quarantine bay completed for the most part and would pick Tim up, sometimes taking him to visit his dad as much as she could afford to before returning to her own apartment where they’d have dinner and Becky would join them. Sometimes, when Emma wouldn’t be able to take Tim home after school, which was rare, Ethan would be the one to pick him up and drop him off in the quarantine bay so they could visit with their loved ones while Emma finished up work. Though the schedule had only just been implemented a week before, it was effective for the time being, and honestly, if they all kept praying enough, it wouldn’t have to last long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” she smiled down at him, “At least we have some nice things to bring all of them, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and nodded looking down at the large bouquet of white anemones, violet  chrysanthemums, and white astilbe, an odd combination she knew, but it was what their small florist had, and she figured some color could have been used to brighten up the quarantine bay. It was determined that they could put flowers within the small little pods, which looked sterile and bland for the most part. Adding color was the least they could do. At the very least, she wished the florist had yellow flowers. Tom always liked yellow ones, at least, and yellow often reminded her of Hannah, so perhaps they’d both appreciate it. But, for now, she’d settle for the purple and white blooms they’d found. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim looked solemnly down at the flowers, his eyes sad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” she softly whispered, “You okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, his eyes telling her immediately that he was lying, “I just...miss him...that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky felt her heart clench at the boy’s words. She couldn’t deny how much she missed Tom...honestly, she couldn’t deny how much she missed all of them. It was hard to go into that ward day in and day out knowing that they wouldn’t be awake. That didn’t stop her from praying, even when her faith in God wavered on a daily basis. She tried too hard to keep a smile on her face as the world continued to spin on its axis, even as things came crashing down around her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d done her best to keep track of everyone else in all of this, making sure that the people they loved didn’t get left behind or too swept up in their grief to stop working. For example, Alice Woodward and her girlfriend, Deb Orin, had taken Lucy’s place in teaching the few children that had been placed in childcare. Of course, they mostly taught writing and art, but it was still a means by which the children would be able to develop their skills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan had mostly been spending time around the base, keeping himself busy in the mechanics bay when he wasn’t visiting the people in the quarantine bay. She’d done her best to keep in contact with him, but he didn’t speak as much as he used to, his eyes filled with a sense of unbearable sadness and worry that made her wish she could do anything to take away the pain he was feeling.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John and Xander, of course, had been performing their jobs beautifully, focusing mostly on keeping everyone safe, but they came in every single day to hear what updates they could from Hidgens and Dr. Abadi on the progress of the patients. She could tell that they both were beating themselves up for what had happened to all of them. In some ways, she supposed it </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been their fault, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to blame them. They were doing their best, and all the while, they were taking care of Ethan since he didn’t seem like he’d remember to take care of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma seemed to be keeping busy, in spite of how tired and exhausted she looked all the time. Since Paul’s collapse, the woman seemed to spend as much time as she could in the labs and the quarantine bay, only stopping, it seemed, for Tim’s sake, and for the sake of her unborn child. Though it was likely she was only sixteen to seventeen weeks along, she was showing only a little, and had gone to see Phillipa regularly, trying to keep herself in check. That didn’t stop her from working as hard as she could. Becky could see that working with the professor on matters such as this was taking its toll, and the fact remained that she was set in her ways, keeping herself at work before she could find herself useless. It was most difficult to persuade Emma to take care of herself, mostly because some people were too afraid to play the baby card and ask her to think of her and Paul’s child, but it was necessitated to make sure they didn’t lose anyone else and they would do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slid her keycard through the reader and was met instantly by the door sliding open, blasting them with a wave of cool air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, Hidgens was a psychopath for leaving the quarantine bay as cold as it was. No wonder Kamaria had insisted on doubling the blankets put over the victims. Becky was certain they’d freeze if anything else was upheld. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim took her hand as she stepped forward looking wary as his eyes fell on the six cubes that contained some of the people he cared most about in his life. Becky smiled softly down at him, trying to provide comfort wherever she could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” she asked softly, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Tim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, “No...No, I want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, “You’re sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew she wasn’t his mother, but she could tell that the boy was hurting a lot more than he let on. She didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or force him into anything, but she did want him to know he could talk to her always. She wasn’t Jane...and that was something she reminded herself every single day, but she could try to be herself...for both Tom and Tim’s sakes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay if you’re not, Tim,” she assured him, “If you want to come back later, that’s okay...I’m sure your dad will understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down for a moment as if the thought had never occurred to him. He sighed before looking up at her, a small look of determination on his face, “I can do it...I wanna see them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she smiled with a small nod, “But if you want to leave, just let me know and we can get you to school, alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded slowly before taking a deep breath and faced the open doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready?” she asked softly, smiling encouragingly at the boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and took the first step into the dim light of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky had only worked here twice in the previous weeks, but she couldn’t deny the chill that settled over her every time she set foot in there. Every time her eyes fell on the still bodies within each of the cube-like dividers, she felt nauseous. Of course, she managed to switch to her nurse mindset as she worked, but the fact remained that these people were her friends...her family. They were the first few people who loved and accepted her and treated her like a human being when most other people were judging her or pitying her for being “left behind” by her asshole of a husband.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that my nephew?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky looked up to see a weary-looking Emma walking over to them, a small smile on her face as she saw them. Her brown hair was up in a messy bun, with several pins holding it in place, somewhat appropriate for lab work, and she wore an oversized lab coat over an old, thin, grey sweater, which seemed to draw more attention to the small baby bump she was sporting. Though she was smiling, the joy in her expression didn’t quite go up to her eyes, and it was clear that the woman was even more exhausted than she’d been the day before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s smile widened and he ran over to hug his aunt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We brought them flowers!” He was saying to her as Becky walked over to meet them, his voice enthusiastic as he gestured to the blooms she was still holding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma’s eyes softened as they fell on the flowers. She smiled down at Tim again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s great buddy…” she smiled softly, “You wanna start with Miss Lucy, then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim nodded happily before walking over to Becky, “Can I start giving them the flowers?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at the boy’s sudden enthusiasm, praying silently that it wasn’t just for Emma’s sake as she handed him a few sprigs, “Why don’t you go say hi to Lucy, and then you can take care of the rest one-by-one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned and took the flowers from her, before bolting over to Lucy’s curtained-off cube, gently pulling back the transparent curtain with a look of approval from Dr. Abadi, who was currently working over Ted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky smiled as the boy quietly and softly approached Lucy, not looking much better than she had the day before (although, Becky took notice of the fact that someone had braided the woman’s thick brown hair so that it wasn’t too messy or in the way). She could see Tim smile at Lucy and chatter away, probably talking about how the school was in good hands for now. She smiled. Seeing as how Lucy didn’t necessarily have many friends to visit her, who weren’t victims themselves, or too busy to give her as much time of the day, it was good that she had a friend in Tim. A friend who </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to visit her and treat her just as well as he would treat a member of his family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma smiled softly as she watched the boy chatter to Lucy, who could do nothing to respond as he did, “He’s a good kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky hummed under her breath, “He’s trying so hard to put on a brave face...I try to tell him that it’s okay if he wants to talk but I’m…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off as she considered the various things she could have finished that sentence with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not Jane. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not his mother.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just his father’s girlfriend from high school.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and bit down against the bitter taste that rose in her mouth as Tim waved to Lucy before returning to Becky’s side, holding out his hand for more flowers. She smiled as she broke a few more flowers from the bundle to give to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now for Mr. Bill,” he nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky smiled as she handed him the flowers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled as the boy rushed back across the room to Bill’s area. Though the boy didn’t know Bill all that well, it was clear in the way that Tim seemed to greet the man and utter a few words that he didn’t want to leave him out of their little flower distribution escapade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One-by-one, Emma and Becky watched as the boy darted between each of the beds, showing contemplation to each and everyone as he did, even if he was more hesitant and didn’t say much to Ted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it came to Lex and Hannah’s pod, and Becky felt her heart breaking at the look on Tim’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah was his friend. There weren’t many children around the base that Tim could easily make friends with...and the fact that circumstance often pushed them together, Tim and Hannah got along well. Tim could use the company, and Hannah deserved a friend who didn’t make fun of her or treat her like dirt, as Lex had once said. Hannah and Tim had both been drawn into a war that wasn’t their own, and the fact that someone had taken the time to make them a part of it was terrifying to Becky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Interesting choice of flowers,” Emma mused, her voice sounding tired, “Anemones and Chrysanthemums?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded, “Astilbe too…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice,” Emma nodded, “I know they’d appreciate the effort...he’s really a sweet kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wanted to brighten the place up,” Becky smiled, “And the fact that the small flower booth opened was nice enough...we figured we’d swing by and pick up a few things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma hummed under her breath and smiled as Tim waved to Hannah and Lex before tearing across the slick floor, ignoring the protests of Hidgens, who was standing at the whiteboard near the back, surrounded by a messy array of scientific equipment and what Becky could only guess was an assortment of samples they’d collected in the past week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay!” Tim smiled softly as he came running back, “I can take the rest, Becky...there’s only two left!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed with a soft smile and passed the rest of the flowers to Tim, the large blooms tickling his face as he held them. He grinned earnestly and turned to Emma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I give some to Uncle Paul?” he asked, his voice hesitant as his eyes looked up at Emma, the good one taking in every single detail of her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma’s eyes softened and she bit down on her lower lip as she studied the boy. She smiled softly, but Becky could see the sadness in her eyes as she nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim smiled and started to move to where Paul was positioned, Emma’s eyes following the small boy as he walked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Becky asked, studying the woman beside her, who honestly looked just so...</span>
  <em>
    <span>tired.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So unlike the vivacious, biting, sarcastic Emma that everyone knew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, clearly fighting back against tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed and looked back to where Tim was chatting with Paul, his eyes a little softer. She couldn’t hear the exact words that Tim was saying, but from the way he kept glancing back at her and Emma, it had to do with Emma in some regard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky didn’t look at Emma as she asked her next question, “How late were you here last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma closed her eyes and sighed, “Not that late…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma…” Becky sighed, looking over at the exhausted woman standing there, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” Emma murmured, her voice sharp, “I know it’s not healthy...but what else can I do? It’s been a week and we still have fucking nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed, “I know...but you’re not gonna help them if you’re not prioritizing your own health.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can try,” Emma whispered, “Trying is the least I can do for them...the least I can give.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky inhaled and exhaled sharply, being reminded again of how she wasn’t Jane. She understood the woman’s perspective in the regard that she would do anything and everything to help save Tom. She refused to let them all down where she worked. She wasn’t Emma’s older sister, but she was herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that would be enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, she found herself transported back to the day when Ted had attacked Emma, less than an hour of that occurrence. Paul had been there, talking to her about a particular question he’d wanted to ask Emma. He’d asked Becky about what it was that he should do because he trusted her. Because she was a valued member of their small family. He’d never gotten to ask Emma, according to her knowledge, what with the new knowledge of the baby and everything else under the sun,  but if Becky had been able to provide him with advice then, maybe she could do it for Emma now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her mouth to speak, but Emma cut her off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really glad you’re here, Becky,” Emma murmured, her eyes not leaving Tim as he smiled softly at the man he deemed his Uncle, “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Becky could find a single ounce of sarcasm in the woman’s voice. Rather, something in the way Emma was standing, her eyes still gently trained on Tim and Paul, Becky could see only something that was genuine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it,” Emma whispered, her voice a small, serious mumble, “I don’t think there’s anyone better who could be with him right now than you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re with him too-” Becky started before Emma shook her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re there more,” Emma reasoned, “Sure, I help with what I can, but you’re already a nurse and you do so much to help him...I know Tom would appreciate it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky was about to open her mouth to speak, before Emma looked down, her eyes caught in a somewhat melancholy gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jane too,” Emma whispered, before looking back at Tim and Paul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky turned to the woman and saw that she was completely serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma…” Becky breathed, “I don’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, unsure of what she could say. There was something about Emma’s words that made her feel like crying. Since Tom had come back into her life, she worried often that she was overstepping boundaries out of respect for Jane. She knew that Tom still loved Jane, in a way, but she couldn’t deny how much she’d missed him. It was strange how unfamiliar the feeling of being held like she was loved and not an object had become. It was strange how love had become foreign to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> From the other side of the room, Becky could hear the little boy say something along the lines of ‘Bye, Uncle Paul’ before emerging from the pod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky suddenly felt a lump build in her throat, filling her with an emotion she couldn’t explain as her eyes finally settled on Tom...his son a few yards from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, if they’d never been driven apart...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For Emma to say that Jane would have appreciated the way she was looking after Tim seemed to mean the whole world to her. She half-expected Emma to tell her that she wasn’t Jane and that she should back off when it came to being motherly to Tim. Part of her couldn’t help it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only reason she’d stayed married to Stanley for as long as she had been was because he wouldn’t allow her to leave. The house had become her cage. If she wasn’t back at least ten minutes after her shift ended, Stanley would show up at the hospital demanding where she was. It took everything she had to calm his mood and prevent a scene from confirming what most of Hatchetfield already knew; Stanley Peterson was an abusive bastard. Any chance of Becky escaping was slim to nil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, she’d fought back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Jane had died, it had been the last straw for her. It had been all she could take. All she had wanted was to give Tom and his son her condolences and even then, that was too much for Stanley. He’d screamed at her, throwing a mostly-frozen beer can at her head, which she’d learned how to dodge shortly after marrying him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’D KILL YOU BEFORE I SAW YOU WITH TOM HOUSTON AGAIN, YOU LITTLE SLUT!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The words would normally make her shrink back, thinking of ways that she might have been able to earn some semblance of forgiveness from the man who she would never forgive in her heart. But, instead of being her usual shrinking violet self...she’d been filled with a rage she’d been unable to understand. She wasn’t an angry person. Tom was her </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the base of everything. Sure, he was her first love, her first kiss, basically her first everything...but when they’d gone their separate ways she was okay with it, albeit a little heartbroken, but because she knew it was him. Because they understood each other and had some slight suspicion that neither of them acknowledged as they moved on in life that they’d find their way back to one another in the end. But Stanley was the kind of man that would grab your arm and bruise you, refusing to let go no matter how much you begged him. If the mere thought of Tom entering Becky’s life again was enough to elicit that response from him, it showed her how weak he was...and how she wasn’t going to take it anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d yelled back, telling him that she wasn’t going to let him control her anymore. She even threatened to call a lawyer within the hour to have the divorce proceedings, which should have been done within the first few months of her marriage to him, carried out. She was done. The decades worth of rage and pain building and building inside of her from the moment he’d entered her life was coming out like a damn that had just been met by a well-placed grenade. She yelled and screamed her throat raw as she stared at Stanley’s paunch figure, his face growing purple the more she screamed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, she’d thought she’d actually gotten through to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d thought that maybe she’d finally broken out of the shell he’d forced her into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment...she felt powerful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt strong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until he grabbed a carving knife from the knife block that she realized he was going to make good on his threats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without thinking, she’d run for the back door and began to dart into the woods, dodging between trees as he chased after her, howling for her to come back as he ran after her, making her feel as though she were a little girl being hunted by a big, snarling, hungry wolf. As the dark silver trees of the woods beckoned her to keep running, she’d been so certain she’d never been able to run fast enough. She’d never be able to hide from him. Not when he was so dead-set on killing her. This would be the way she would die...but for some reason, she kept running. Deeper into the woods. Faster. Her heart pounding and throbbing in her throat as she forced her muscles to move. She’d been filled with a terror which seemed to defy everything Stanley had beaten her into becoming. Suddenly, she was breaking out of the cage she’d been placed in, and a younger, more determined Becky Barnes wasn’t just fleeing from her husband, she was fleeing for her life. Running for any chance of a real-life she wanted to make for herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d chased her around the woods for what was probably ten minutes before she found herself at the base of a large tree, right beside a large willow grove. All of the instincts she’d had from before she met Stanley, back when she and Tom would run through these woods, looking for a small private place where they could enjoy each other’s company were screaming at her to climb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was almost as if the Tom Houston she’d fallen in love with all of those years ago was begging her to climb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d started to pull herself up the thick, sturdy trunk of the tree, when Stanley grabbed at her foot, tugging her down to the cool earth roughly. She’d hit the ground and received a gash on her forehead from it, but as she looked up and saw the knife raised, her whole body began to move faster than she thought herself capable of. She found herself rolling out of the way as he brought the knife down, stabbing wildly as he did, somehow managing to miss her every time. At some point, she managed to stumble to her feet, tripping and falling back against the nearest tree. He’d raised the knife again, smiling down at her. The evil in his eyes was accentuated by the pale moonlight filtering through the thick tree branches as he sneered down at her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody’s gonna care enough to find you, Becky,” he grinned down at her as glanced down at the knife, “Nobody cares about you.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then he’d brought down the knife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, before she knew what she was doing, she somehow managed to catch his wrist in her arms and wrestled with him, trying to keep the knife as far away from her as possible. She didn’t know where this newfound strength had come from, but she managed to keep the knife suspended between them as they fought, she was trying to keep the knife out of her chest, he was trying to kill her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a simple stroke of luck that his grip loosened on the knife when it did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she knew what she was doing, she plunged the butcher’s knife deep into Stanley’s thigh. Instantly he unleashed a scream that made her draw back, dropping the knife as she stumbled, watching how the near silhouette-figure of the man whose name was like venom on her tongue. It brought her no satisfaction as she watched him crumble to the ground, cursing and screaming. As soon as his eyes snapped up to her, she turned and ran the other way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She bolted through the forest, even as Stanley’s screams faded through the distance, she could hear them as clearly as if he was screaming in her ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until she’d made it back to the house that was never a home for her, locked the doors, and sank to the floor, that she noticed how her hands were caked in his blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken all of her strength to wash it all away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d not slept for almost a week after it happened. She worried that maybe he’d not died. Maybe he’d come crawling back with something worse in his hand and finish the job. He’d come back and then she’d really die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he never did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she carried on in life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody ever asked where Stanley went. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They never had to with as proficient as the gossip mongers in Hatchetfield society were. In some ways, she’d never fallen under suspicion as people like Linda Monroe made up some story about him leaving her for another woman in Clivesdale of all places.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of her had thanked God that she wasn’t able to have children, for she didn’t know what she would have done every time she looked at them. In some ways, her children had become every patient at Saint Damien’s that she’d connected with. In helping those children, she was allowed to become a mother, and help where she could...but after what happened, looking them in the eye was difficult. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she quit from the hospital, claiming that she was going through a tough time and nobody questioned it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was approached by PEIP a month after that and she joined them, feeling something telling her that she was going to be okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Healing took a lot of effort, and getting used to the protocol that they used at PEIP was a lot, but the new environment helped wash away the previous years of her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then...one thing led to another…and Tom Houston found his way into her life again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve a second chance...but she’d been blessed with a family who wanted her. Who cared about her. Who wanted her in their lives. Hell, she’d ended up being loved by people she thought didn’t want anything to do with her...like Emma or even Paul...but they all wanted her here. It had even gotten to the point where Tim would run up to her with a toothy grin which would melt her heart as if he truly were her son. He wasn’t, but she felt, in her heart, like she’d truly been made a part of a loving family, which had become a foreign concept to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, of course, she wasn’t Jane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was Becky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And according to Emma, that was more than enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt tears fill her eyes as she watched Tim hesitantly approach Tom’s pod, the small boy visibly shaking as he approached it. For a while, the boy just looked at it, as if he was debating whether or not he should enter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wondered if she should tell him that he didn’t have to go in if he didn’t have to, just as he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, striding forward, gently pulling open the curtain and stepping inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t hear what Tim was saying to Tom as they sat there, but she could see that the boy’s sad eyes were trying to convey enthusiasm to his father...conveying hope. The way that Tim arranged the leftover flowers in the bedside vase was so...gentle...so methodical, she felt as if he were trying to make everything perfect for his father, even though they both probably knew that Tom would be touched by even the slightest gesture Tim had towards caring. It was amazing to watch the way Tim reflected Tom’s overall gentleness. Sure, Tom was a big burly man with a tough exterior, but once one looked past all of that, he was truly a gentle and sweet soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma sighed, “You working in here today, or general infirmary?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky looked down, “General Infirmary today...but here tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma nodded, “Okay…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky turned to her, noticing how Emma’s gaze was slowly shifting between Tim and Paul as they watched the boy talk to Tom,  “You gonna be okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma breathed deeply and nodded, “Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not a solid answer, Emma,” Becky whispered comfortingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Emma raised an eyebrow, her voice was strained with suppressed emotion and an attempt at sarcasm, “Well, it's the only one I’ve got for right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that was the truth for everyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Emma sighed, “I felt the baby move for the first time last week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky’s eyes widened as she turned to the woman. This was new news. The younger woman hadn’t shared this with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma nodded, “Yeah...the day after all of...</span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This chaos they’d been thrown into without any warning.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This pain and suffering that all-powerful beings from another dimension wanted to wreak on their lives.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smaller woman inhaled and exhaled deeply as she shook her head, “I didn’t want to tell anyone because I wanted Paul to be the first to know...but he’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off and bit down on her lower lip, her blank and tired expression acting as a wall against all the pain and sorrow Becky imagined the woman was feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘not here’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>seemed to hang in the air as Emma straightened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she said suddenly, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed and placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, “It’s good to tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I suppose...right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” Emma mused, “But...it still...fucking sucks, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded as the woman inhaled and exhaled sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Emma sighed,  forcing a small smile, “I’ll get Tim after school...I’ve got enough time off to feed him before you get back…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And after that?” Becky asked, “Emma, you and I both know you can’t keep coming back here every night...you look exhausted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna be here long,” Emma reasoned, her voice tired, but resolute as if she’d already made her decision, “I just have some more observation I need to finish and then I’ll be fine...but the break I’ve got is enough for me to watch Tim and have dinner, so you don’t need to worry about him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not him I’m worried about, Emma,” Becky sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma shook her head, “I’ll be fine, Becky...it’s fine. I just need to finish some observations, and then I’ll go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed, not wanting to push it anymore., “Okay...I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I appreciate that Becky,” the woman sighed, rubbing at her tired eyes, “I really do...but I know what I’m doing...and I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed and held her tongue as she fought against any protests. She looked up and saw Tim sauntering slowly towards them, his eyes turned downward and his hands empty of flowers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma knelt down with only a little bit of difficulty, “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim nodded, his eyes filled with tears, “Mmm-hmm…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma sighed and looked up at Becky, who knelt as well and placed her hand on the little boy’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did I say, Tim?” Becky whispered gently, offering him a small smile, “It’s okay if you’re not...okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, biting down on his lower lip, tears brimming in his eyes, “I jus’...I just miss them…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a small sob, the boy collapsed into Emma’s arms, burying his face in his aunt’s neck. Emma met Becky’s eyes with a small look of sadness, neither of them sure what to say in that situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In some ways, seeing the boy cry almost made Becky want to cry as well. It was no lie that they all missed the people who’d been taken hostage by something they didn’t understand. They didn’t know whether to classify what had happened to the people they cared about as a spell of some kind or a disease. All they knew was that their family was suffering and they didn’t know how to help them. Who wouldn’t be heartbroken by the notion?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma made eye-contact with Becky for a second, before breaking away from Tim, looking the little boy in the eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if…” she began somewhat hesitantly, “What if I took work off today while Becky’s working...and you didn’t have to go to school today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s eyes widened, “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma glanced up at Becky, “I can work later tonight, but you can spend today with me...if you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma…” Becky whispered, unsure of how she should feel about Emma’s offer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Tim nodded, his eyes still filled with tears, nodding softly, “Yeah...I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Emma nodded with a soft smile before looking up at Becky to make sure it was okay with her, “That okay with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As her gaze shifted between the little boy and Emma, Becky felt part of her heart melt. Part of her felt responsible for making sure Tim stayed at school when he was supposed to be there. However, it was evident that the boy was in no mental state where he could focus or maximize his learning...and Emma could use the break. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled softly, “Okay...I’ll be back to get you after my shift...if it’s not too much trouble, Emma…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Emma smiled slightly, “Besides, Timmo and I haven’t gotten to really hang out in a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you saw me yesterday…” Tim murmured slightly, a small smile teasing between the tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Emma shrugged, putting the slightest bit of enthusiasm in her tired voice for the sake of her nephew, “I guess that was just too long ago, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim giggled slightly and nodded, wiping at the tears in his eyes as Emma took his hand and stood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hidgens!” she called, to the man who was engrossed in a monitor “I’m gonna come back in later tonight, okay? Something important just came up...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not even waiting for the man’s response, Emma gently took Tim’s hand, looking up at Becky with a slightly more cheerful expression,  “We’ll be at my apartment until you get off if that’s alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky nodded, “Yeah...yeah that works...Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma shook her head, “No problem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Becky watched as Emma and Tim exited the quarantine bay, the woman very obviously suggesting any topics that would take the boy’s mind off of everything. Emma looked over her shoulder for a second to make eye contact with Becky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Becky mouthed, smiling softly at the woman, grateful that there was someone else in her midst who was willing to take care of Tim when all else was rough. She knew that Emma wouldn’t have taken her mind off of the matter at hand- the health and safety of the victims- had it not meant more to her to take care of Tim. While Becky knew Emma was set in her ways, in finding a cure for the people who’d been affected by Webby’s attacks, she also knew that Tim’s well-being was a priority. In some ways, she supposed it was a blessing that Tim had reacted in the way that he did, as there probably would have been no other way (other than definitively arguing for the safety of her child) to convince Emma to take a break. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma smiled softly and nodded before leading Tim out of the quarantine bay, leaving Becky surrounded by the afflicted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky sighed softly before turning and looking at Tom’s pod, a wave of nausea surging over her. During most of her visits to this quarantine bay, she hadn’t visited as much as she liked. Most of this was due to the fact that she was working through most of it all, as well as the fact that seeing Tom like this hurt like hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paced over to stand in front of his curtained-off area, looking at him. She hated the way he looked more like a wax dummy rather than a real person. He’d not moved since she’d seen him the day before. Had it not been for the medical equipment surrounding him, she might have thought this was just another pleasant morning where she’d wake up in their shared apartment and find that he was still asleep. Maybe Tim would come in and start jumping on the bed to wake them up, a not-so-subtle reminder that she’d promised to make pancakes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What she wouldn’t give for a peaceful morning like that again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, she refused to let the tears fall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was work to be done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would not allow life to separate her from Tom Houston again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Foster! You have a visitor!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex was snapped out of her daze as the door to her cell slid open and a guard, the one she liked to call Marge (even if that wasn’t her real name...she just looked like a Marge to Lex) stood outside her cell, a resolute expression on her face as she gestured for Lex to come out of her cell. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex groaned and rubbed her eyes as she stood up, swinging her feet over her uncomfortable bed she possessed, following Marge through the white brick hallways of the Hatchetfield Penitentiary.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d been here for almost two months, and already it seemed as if she’d been here for an eternity. Hannah had never come to see her, nor had Pamela. Not that Lex ever wanted to see Pamela. Sometimes, however, Tony would come and say hi, updating her on where Ethan was, sometimes passing messages along. He’d made an effort to visit her more than anyone else, considering how Ethan had also gotten the brunt of Pamela’s wrath. But...he’d already visited her earlier this week, hadn’t he? He’d already come by and informed her that Ethan was in Clivesdale (of all the fucking places he could have been...why the hell did it have to be Clivesdale?) and that as far as he knew, Hannah was being fed regularly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So...who was visiting her?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t know enough people who’d care enough to come and say hi, especially not since most people had already looked down at her and her sister in contempt. Hell, the only reason she’d think someone would drop by was to gloat. God, if Frank had stopped by to rub her failure in her face, she would find herself in jail for something </span>
  </em>
  <span>far worse </span>
  <em>
    <span>than selling her mother’s painkillers to make ends meet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They came to the small area in which the prisoners were separated from visitors by plexiglass. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sitting in front of one of the booths was a man in his mid to late thirties, with kind, expectant green eyes, and somewhat long hair. He was dressed somewhat casually, and he was tapping his fingers on the table in front of him impatiently, even if he didn’t look impatient. For whatever reason, Lex found a sense of dread twisting in her heart as she recognized the social worker who was assigned to her family. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Douglas ‘Duke’ Keane.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Whenever he showed up, it usually meant that something was wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected them to be when they were told they’d be getting a social worker assigned to them. She expected some sleaze that would have her put away for life, as well as their mother, and take Hannah away. But...he did seem to genuinely care about the wellbeing of her and Hannah, which she could give him props for. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But what was he doing here? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she approached, he offered her a warm smile and she had to stop herself from gagging. She didn’t understand people like him. People who always seemed to have a sunshine-like demeanor, despite dealing with some of the nastiest family situations in Hatchetfield.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and picked up the phone, not sure she really wanted to talk to him, and he did the same, looking at her seriously as she did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing here?” she spoke before he could get the chance to talk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled softly, “Hello, Lex. How are you doing?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed, “How the hell do you think I’m doing?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and nodded, “I figured as much...but I am curious...how are you? Mentally? Physically?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m alive,” Lex said abruptly, narrowing her eyes at him, “Satisfied?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke looked from side to side, his eyes darting around, “Well, I guess that’s the bare minimum...but it’s better than nothing.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You haven’t answered my question,” Lex deadpanned, “What the hell are you doing here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and looked down, “Before you freak out, Hannah’s fine. She’s healthy, as far as I know, and eating regularly…your mom, still hasn’t-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gotten off her ass?” Lex suggested, “Decided she actually wanted to ‘mother’ her child?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke chuckled lightly and looked down, “That’s not my place to say...but that is one way of putting it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex sighed and looked down, she’d expected this much from Pamela. Still...at the very least Hannah wasn’t alone. Of course, it killed Lex that Hannah was with their sorry excuse of a mother, but Pamela was better than nothing. And Hannah still had a roof over her head, which was what mattered.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So...why are you here?” she asked, “I know it’s your job to care about my family...but I don’t think paying visits to prison is something you guys can do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and looked down, “Technically speaking, my reasons for being here aren’t necessarily related to the job...but I am here for your case.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My case?” Lex raised her eyebrows.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell was he getting at?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone knew what a piss-poor example of a mother Pamela was. The fact that she kept the kids around was enough of a surprise to most people in Hatchetfield. Most people knew that Pamela was a drunk. Most people knew the way that she lived her life, and probably held the opinion that she was in no position to raise two children. Did anybody do anything about it? No. Rather, they just waited until Pamela which landed both Lex and someone else’s kid in jail. God, as long as Pamela remained out of the line of fire, she was fine with whatever happened. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke nodded, “I think there’s a whole lot that was left out of that trial...and I think you know it too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, Lex knew it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn’t a dumbass. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anybody with a brain knew that Pamela pulled most of the strings in that trial. She would have made a great actress when she had the motivation to do something to keep herself alive...or out of prison. Her testimony had been what landed Ethan and Lex both in jail. She’d not forgotten the false tears and shocked expression which Pamela had indulged when it was asked about how she treated her daughters. She put on a performance for all in that courtroom to see, and they fucking ate it all up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lex,” Duke began softly, “I know you’ve already denied this in court...but I have to ask you…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed. She knew what question he wanted to ask.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew the correct answer of course, and she still lied about it in court. It didn’t matter that she’d sworn on the book that had been covered with false leather to </span>
  </em>
  <span>resemble </span>
  <em>
    <span>a bible. She’d still lied about it. She knew that regardless of whether or not she made sure Pamela was convicted, she and Ethan would likely still serve some sentence, which meant that Hannah would be left alone. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And she couldn’t have that. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No matter how much of a terrible bitch Pamela was. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah’s best chance was with Pamela.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d never wanted to leave Hannah behind…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Well...what a wonderful job you did, Lex. </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>But...Hannah hadn’t been left behind.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>They’d all been in a safe place, hadn’t they?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>They’d all been...together.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Where was she?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lex?” Duke said softly, snapping her attention back to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex sighed, “You’re not my lawyer, Duke.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke nodded with a soft sigh, “No...I’m not...but I’m smart enough to be able to tell when someone’s lying...and I also know how to smell bullshit in the court of law.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And let me guess?” Lex groaned, pretending to humor him, “That particular courtroom reeked?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke chuckled softly, “Yeah...you might say that.” His gaze softened as he looked at her, “I don’t think you and Ethan were selling your mom’s pills because you wanted to.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, no shit,</span>
  <em>
    <span> she thought bitterly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If…” Duke bit down on her lower lip, “If you want...I can contact the public defender, we can cite your mom as the guilty party…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And then what?” Lex asked, “Me and Ethan will still likely serve some kind of sentence, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and nodded, “Yeah...but it’ll be reduced and-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And what about Hannah?” she asked him, “She can’t just be left with nobody, Duke.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and looked down. She knew he was really trying to help, even if caring was his job and he was obligated to do it right. She knew he was trying to make things easier for both her and Hannah, but this was one of those situations where helping was hurting and she couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t leave Hannah with absolutely no one. That was never an option.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex sighed and finally met Duke’s eyes, “Thanks for trying Duke...but Pamela didn’t have anything to do with what I did…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What she did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A lie.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A terrible lie that would leave her in prison until she was twenty-three.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But a necessary one.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think that’s a lie, Lex,” Duke muttered, “And you know it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What difference would it make if it was?” Lex asked, “Anyway, it’s the truth I’m sticking to.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that she stood, looking up at one of the guards to let them know she was ready to be out of this conversation.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She glanced back at Duke and picked up the phone once more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Give my love to Hannah...okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, she was led away, not making eye-contact with Duke as she was led back through the hallways and into her cell.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She tried not to think about Hannah as her door was shut, leaving her in the walls of grey concrete. She didn’t want to think about the life she’d chosen to leave behind. She’d not wanted to leave it behind, not wanted to leave Hannah behind...but it was what she had to do...and there was no way out.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She felt as if she were a small, insignificant insect, trapped inside a large, hungry spider’s web.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And she’d never know how right she was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Henry sighed as he closed the file filled with the reports and paperwork from the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today had been hard in terms of collecting samples.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since they still had no way of knowing what exactly it was that they were dealing with, it had become something of a challenge for him to know what they were looking for, which meant they had to do the unpleasant job of collecting as many samples as they could. The most unpleasant sample to collect was the sample of cerebrospinal fluid which could only be accomplished via a spinal tap...which Henry absolutely despised doing...especially on the little girl, who still remained with her sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and checked his watch for the time, rubbing his eyes tiredly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>11:37</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damn, time flew like the devil when they were working as hard as they were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d come into work around six o’clock in the morning earlier that day, and while he’d only stopped for a brief lunch break around noon, he’d felt as though he’d only been in the quarantine bay and mini-laboratory they’d constructed for two hours at most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned around in his chair to look at the cork-board they’d mounted on the wall, looking like something out of a conspiracy theory show. With the various strings and pictures and even file clippings they’d placed on the board, he was somewhat able to better visualize all that they had...which wasn't a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was fairly certain that the main issue at hand was something like a virus...and while none of the cultures he’d concocted had brought anything up, he figured that was the best option. They’d not found any odd components in their blood (other than the indicators of Ted having two blood-types theory in his blood), and any of the other fluid samples had not indicated much. The most worrisome thing for him right now was the fact that Paul’s vitals were still the weakest...which was something he’d learned not to bring up to Emma every time she asked for an update. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up to where the woman in question was seated within Paul’s pod. She'd taken most of the day off to care for her nephew but had returned to the lab a few hours earlier to run a few labs and document whatever observations she could manage, spending most of her time typing away at a laptop one-handed while holding Paul’s hand in her free one. She hadn't said much when she returned to the labs, resorting to silence and simple, focused work. Now, she was asleep, her laptop folded shut and laying on the end of Paul’s bed as she leaned over where Paul’s legs were, snoring softly in a position that couldn’t have been comfortable. He knew that almost everyone felt sorry for Emma, so to express how much regret he felt for the woman would not improve the situation. Yes, the woman had it rough. To be honest, they all did. But never once did Emma outwardly express her grievances or let it affect her work ethic. All she did was work hard  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had the circumstances been better, Henry would have seen this as a good scene to put in some wonderful stage drama...but unfortunately, he knew the drama really lay in the life they were living right now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>They really are a lovely couple, aren’t they, Henry?</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Henry froze, his back going rigid at the sound of the voice. His hand went to the pistol at his side, his fingers brushing the cool metal handle as he looked around. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Why are you reaching for the gun, Henry? You know that even if I were there, it would do you no good.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” he whispered, his eyes searching for wherever that Spider Bitch was located.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>No.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice was taunting and light. Every word was almost perfectly deliberate and delicate, almost as if she were a poised actress, delivering every word with precision, making his mind feel as if it wasn’t his own. He shook this away with anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head and chuckled dangerously, “What the hell do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I wanted to talk to you, Henry.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That much is obvious,” he grit his teeth, his eyes still darting around as he took in the mostly-empty room, “But why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I have a proposition.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A proposition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Henry believed this would in no way help him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go fuck yourself,” he murmured, his hand still going to his gun, “You don’t control me anymore. You don’t control any of us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>That’s where you’re wrong, Henry.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew his face was contorted in a snarl as he gripped his gun, despite knowing how useless it would be. She probably wasn’t even here. No bullet he had could have ever used against her would do anything. Still, his hand closed around the handle of his gun. No way was he going to show weakness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d sacrificed his youth to the greed and wrath of this woman. He’d anticipated discovery and life when he’d first stepped into the Black and White all of those years ago. All he’d been given, however, was pain and a trap of her making. He’d wandered her abilities for the majority of his life...or technically his death, considering how he’d died to get there. Well, he was living now, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice anything to her ever again. Never again would he find himself wandering the trap of the Black and White. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?” he asked again, his voice coming out in a low growl, determined to stand his ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I want you to help me, Henry.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled bitterly, “Have fun trying to convince me to do so…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Oh, I intend to...now pay attention.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Henry sighed as he fell into his chair, propping his feet up on his desk as her voice continued to dance through his mind, like a taunting ballet he wanted nothing more to leave, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Now...Henry...you do know that you can’t save any of them, right?</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Henry didn’t answer. She was just trying to get into his head again. He couldn’t let her do this, he couldn’t let her win. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Good, you do know. Now, if that is the truth...then you know there’s no point in trying, right?</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” he muttered, “You don’t know what we’re capable of. For all you know we could surprise you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span><strong>I doubt that Henry dear,</strong> </span>
  </em>
  <span>she taunted, </span>
  <strong><em>Now Listen</em>.</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He fell back as she continued to talk. What did she want from him? What could he offer her that she would want?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I<strong>’ll make you a deal, Henry. </strong></span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want whatever deal you have to offer, bitch,” he spat, “We don’t want anything from you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Perhaps not,</em>
  </strong>
  <span> she mused, </span>
  <strong>
    <em>But you’ll need this.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what’s that?” he demanded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>More time.</em>
  </strong>
  <em></em>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said nothing as she went on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>You know that the infection is at my every whim. I pull the strings on their condition whether you like it or not. The fact that none of them have died yet must mean something to you.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It does,” he murmured bitterly, “It means you’re a sadistic witch who likes to watch people suffer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Nevertheless,</em>
  </strong>
  <span> she continued, </span>
  <strong>
    <em>You cannot deny that the chance for more time gives you the opportunity to save them.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s an arbitrary argument,” Hidgens stood up, “If you truly pull the strings of it all, then any and all time you offer me is worthless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was silent for a moment, and for a while, Henry thought he’d truly called her bluff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t think I know the rules, Witch?” he called out, a self-satisfied grin crossing his face, “You don’t think I was in the Black and White long enough to know what kind of game you play? Coward!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His final shout seemed to echo through the silence of the room, surprisingly not waking Emma or drawing the attention of any of the other nurses. Strangely enough, nobody seemed to move in reaction to his yelling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strange...why were they standing so still?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why were the monitors not moving?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he the only thing that moved…?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights flickered on and off in the sudden silence and stillness, making another chill run up his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span><strong>You know, I didn’t want to do this, Henry, but you left me no choice.</strong> </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He whirled around in the dim light, terror pounding through his veins as he suddenly beheld the woman he’d been taunting, standing before him in all of her horrifying glory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though she was completely dressed in spiderwebs, he could see her multiple red eyes through the lace-like material of her veil, leering down at him as he fell to the ground. His hand went to his gun, but with a small flick of her bony, pale fingers, the gun slid away from him, out of his reach. He could do nothing but stare up at her as she leaned down and her multiple voices seemed to whisper in his ears, her mouth never moving. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I<strong> will be making a deal with you, Henry...whether you like it or not.</strong></span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shook under her gaze as she went on, her eyes staring into him as he could do nothing but listen. Her gaze turned to look over at Emma, who was frozen in her position, asleep on Paul’s hospital bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh-” Henry stammered, trying to shake away the fear at seeing one of the most powerful beings in the universe, “Wh-What kind of deal?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no intention to be Webby’s Faust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grinned, revealing rows of knife-sharp teeth, all contorted in a horrific grin that made him want to scream. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I’ll make this simple for you, Henry...you have to choose how many you want to lose. One or two?</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know what she meant. The question could have meant so many different implications, he didn’t even know what she wanted him to choose from other than the numbers. She sighed and continued, her eyes not leaving him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>It’s a simple question, Henry...One or two?</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One or two what?” he asked, hating the desperation that was filling his voice, “What do you want me to choose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby smiled again, a chilling sight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Why...one or two lives of course.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was even more confused than before. What did she mean by lives? Did she mean his lives? Whatever the case, he knew the question wasn’t a good one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>You see, Henry, the truth of the matter is that blood must be spilt, and the only way to do that is make sure that one of the victims dies. I do pull the strings, but I want you to do it.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“D-Do…” he stammered, “D-Do what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby’s face fell as she stared at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>You’re going to kill one of the seven victims. </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He scrambled backward, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-No…” he muttered, “No...I won’t do it...you cannot make me…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Oh, don’t be so dramatic Henry, you know that you will.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or what?” he challenged, finding some newfound defiance in his soul, “You have no authority over me...not anymore!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Perhaps not,</em>
  </strong>
  <span> Webby shook her head, </span>
  <strong>
    <em>But I do have authority over others who would definitely take action to persuade you further. You’ll kill one of these seven victims for me...or two lives will be lost because of your incompetence.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Two lives?” he whispered, “Why do you want them dead so badly?! They’re already under your control!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby didn’t answer, only narrowing her ruby red eyes at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I’m giving you a choice Henry. You get to kill any one of these victims that you want...and you’ll do it within a fortnight.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He said nothing, too frozen in terror to respond. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>If you do not, </em>
  </strong>
  <span>she went on</span>
  <em>
    <span>, <strong>I will have one of my agents kill Emma Perkins and her unborn child.</strong></span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, it felt as if someone had pumped ice water through his veins as her words danced around his mind. Part of him wanted to scream, to attack the being with everything that he had to prevent that from coming. But all that was there was the beating of his heart and the fear which kept him silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn’t…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She would.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would treat Emma and her child’s life like it was collateral. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only Webby could be capable of such cruelty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>You have a fortnight.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the world went on breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fear pumped through his veins as he stared at the place where the spider being had once stood, unable to comprehend the threat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hidgens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to see Emma lifting her head tiredly from where she’d been sleeping, red indents on her skin from where the rough material had been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stretched and rubbed at her eyes, looking exhausted for a moment before her eyes settled on Paul, a sad sort of look crossing her face. For a moment, she just stared at Paul's sleeping face, as if she were hopeful that his eyes might open. When they didn't, she turned to Hidgens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood quickly, brushing himself off. Had he not just seen the being of Whispers standing before him, he would have thought that he’d simply fallen to the ground from exhaustion. Somehow the sound of Emma’s voice only made him feel even more sick, especially when it came to the context of Webby’s threat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was going to kill Emma and her unborn child if he didn’t do this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>one of the seven victims.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But...he couldn’t do that. They were all innocent...weren’t they? They didn’t deserve to die just because Webby said so…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still...he couldn’t sacrifice the lives of Emma and her child...he couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But to sacrifice the life of any one of the victims would be to sacrifice the trust that had been placed in him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t the person to play God. He knew he no longer had that power. Nobody </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have that power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And still, the lives of Emma and her baby had just been placed in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was only one choice he had to make. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he didn’t know what to make of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he whispered shakily, forcing himself to meet Emma’s eyes, “Yes, Emma...I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve done very well,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the voice whispered to her, chillingly coiling around her ears as she sat in the dark, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You need only wait a little while longer before your justice is found.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grinned at the sound of the voice in the dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will help me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But of course, ma’am...But we are agreed? Make good on your promise first...and then all will be well for you, June Schaeffer.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The disgraced colonel smiled at the sound of the Emissary’s voice. Her former mentor telling her that everything would be okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The deal is struck, June-bug…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he crooned from wherever he was in the universe, his allegiance to the Beings of the Black and White would prove to be her salvation, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t worry, you will have your validation.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as his voice faded, June leaned against the wall. She’d been imprisoned for far too long. She would not allow those who’d forsaken her to go unpunished. She’d been patient when she’d been approached by Wilbur all of those months ago...the emissary, who’d proved to bring her salvation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If they kept their end of the bargain, June Schaeffer would only bow to the Beings of the Black and White...and the rest of humanity? They would bow to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah leaned up against the trailer wall, the chilly morning air biting into her hands as she held the chill can of beer her mother had offered her earlier in one hand. Her mother had only wanted her to get out of the house while she watched the man with the fake smile and funny hair talk about what was going on in Hatchetfield. Her mother was in a foul mood because Hannah had been up for most of the night singing. Desperate to not forget the songs that her friend long gone had left with her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Friend…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Friend…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Friend.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Webby wasn’t her friend.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She wasn’t supposed to be here.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She was supposed to find Lexi…</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Lexi, Tom, Paul, Ted, Bill, and Lucy.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She was supposed to find them.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>They were her friends.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>They were her real family.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>How long had she been trapped here?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>How long had she been kept from them?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She was slipping.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She was trapped.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She had a mission she couldn’t ignore.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She needed to save them.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She could fix this.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She needed to-</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of tree branches crashing together in the wind. She looked up as the early morning mist was drawn back like a soft white blanket against a green and brown earth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With small hands, she managed to crack the can open, the sound of the fizzing liquid that her mama liked so much welcoming her. Her mother often liked to boast that she was a woman of taste...so it had to be good...right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was later proven wrong as she took the tiniest sip imaginable. Almost instantly, she spat the liquid out and placed the can down, making a silent note to pour the beer out and get rid of the can properly, not wanting to cause the environment any more pain. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In the early morning, she could hear a nighthawk call from its place in the Witchwoods alongside her home, the small song bringing her a small sense of joy. Lexi used to love listening to the Nighthawks in the morning.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked to one of the trees, content in the morning. Smiling gently at it she turned, set in her ways. It was a lovely, tall, sycamore tree. Though most people treated the trees of the Witchwood with contempt, she found them rather lovely. This one in particular seemed to be waving at her in the wind of the morning.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Hello, Hannah’ it greeted, smiling gently at her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded in acknowledgement, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hands.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This was her life. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was surrounded by friends who loved her and treated her right, even when her mother didn’t. It was funny that even when all of her own friends went away like Webby...or even Lexi...she still had friends in the trees. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s your name?” she asked the tree, and smiled as she waited for the answer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d never abandon her friends.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Never.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...that's not good.</p>
<p>Becky Barnes deserves the world. She's doing really well stepping into the roll of something like a mom for Tim and a big sister for Emma, which is something they both need.</p>
<p>Emma needs rest.</p>
<p>Tim needs all of the hugs.</p>
<p>Lex isn't in the best place right now... :( <br/>(But hey, Duke's here!!!)</p>
<p>What choice will Hidgens make? <br/>(also, Webby is a bitch for threatening the life of Emma's child in the middle of all this. In case you weren't sure she was evil...)</p>
<p>Schaeffer: Surprise, Bitch, I bet you thought you saw the last of me.<br/>(Yeah, they're not in a good place rn)</p>
<p>Hannah needs to wake up.</p>
<p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like to, as I would love to hear/read what you think!!! I really appreciate you guys for putting up with my really long chapters!!!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!!! Please stay safe, healthy, and know how much you are loved!!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. These are the Eyes and the Lies of the Taken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John and Xander consider what's happened</p><p>Emma pays Paul a visit</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song "The World is Ugly" by MCR.</p><p>Also, the song lyrics from later in the chapter come from the song "Just Breathe" by Pearl Jam</p><p>Sorry this one ended up being really long!!!</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of attacks, illness</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Lucy could only gaze in awe as the Professor pulled open the large antique vault door. The creaking sound was almost satisfying as she watched. She still felt like an antsy little girl, just waiting for something special to be revealed to her on a very special day. This was a special day, of course. It was the day when she would figure out whether or not her lifelong endeavors had been worth it at all. Whether or not she could prove the rest of the world wrong. And she would prove them. She would prove the fact that she wasn’t that foolish little girl left traumatized by a fateful fall out of a tree. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was Lucy Angela Stockworth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And they would never again look down at that name with shame and mild disappointment. In some ways, she felt as though the world she was living in was going to be completely changed by this moment.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the door opened, she found herself in awe of the lush greenery and exotic plant life which seemed to fill the glass space as rain pattered softly on the glass windows. It was a lovely space, something she would have liked to see back in England had she possessed a green thumb. The only thing she’d been able to keep alive was a small potted fern that she’d had when she was ten years old, and even then, she’d lost track of where that plant had ended up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As she stepped further into the space, her eyes darted around the greenery, looking for the being that had saved her life all of those years ago, following Hidgens through the collection of exotic plants. She glanced up and found colorful, chittering birds flying between the tall trees which almost extended to the  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wooly-Foot!” Hidgens called out, his eyes darting around the room, “It’s Henry!! I’ve brought a very special visitor, so I want you to be on your best behavior.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sound of a branch breaking to their side caught Lucy’s attention as her heart leaped in her chest. She couldn’t believe how close she was. Her eyes searched the thick foliage intently as she tried to find the subject in question. The leaves began to shake as something made its way through. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Come on out...That’s it!” Hidgens coaxed, “Good boy!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At those words, Lucy was finally able to view the creature Hidgens had claimed to be the Hatchetfield Ape-Man. Though he walked on his knuckles and was softly making noises under his breath, he did look like a man. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My God!” she breathed, “He does look like a man!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t break eye-contact, Lucy,” The Professor instructed, “He’ll think you’re submissive.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, “Of course.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She studied his form as he inspected her closely, making her fight the urge to move back. Though he moved and sounded like an Ape-man, she would have been convinced that she was looking at a naked man with a beard in desperate need of trimming. But she couldn’t deny how...familiar he seemed. He was thinner than she remembered, but that was probably because she’d been such a small girl back then, the whole world looked big to her in those days. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still...she knew he was familiar...from somewhere… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Wait...she’d seen that face before, hadn’t she? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> She’d been teaching children before all of this… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> The world had ended...there was nobody back in England for her to go home to. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> She’d made a home with some other people before… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This man...this man had attacked her, hadn’t he? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He wasn’t… </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She was snapped out of her thoughts as she was startled by the being coming up in front of her curiously, sniffing her. She looked to Hidgens for guidance, unsure of what to do in response.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s fine,” the man nodded, “He’s just curious. Don’t back away. Show him you’re the dominant species.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stood a little taller, making the Ape-Man shrink back slightly, before he began to look at her skirt, curiously. She yanked the material away from him before he could lift it any more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is that any way to treat a lady?” she scolded him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s it, Lucy!” The Professor cheered her on, “Show him who’s boss!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Ape-Man reared up indignantly, his hairless hands beginning to pound on his chest. She crossed her arms in the way her mother would when she or her father would act ridiculous.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now, that’s quite enough of that,” she stood tall and looked at him, making sure he knew that she wasn’t going to take any of that behavior. She felt proud of herself, albeit a little guilty, in that moment as he shrank back, looking somewhat ashamed of himself. </em>
</p><p><em> “Very good,” the Professor nodded, “Now...forgive him. He needs correcting often, but you must </em> always <em> forgive him…” </em></p><p>
  <em> Lucy nodded and offered a soft smile to the crouched-over creature. Without hesitation, she placed a hand gently on his shoulder, “I forgive you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She looked at Hidgens, who smiled encouragingly and nodded, “Good...now, introduce yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She raised an eyebrow in bewilderment as she looked from the Ape-Man to the Professor, “He understands our words?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Some,” the Professor nodded, “He’s even picked up a few himself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled happily at the idea, “He speaks?! That’s extraordinary!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” Hidgens smiled somewhat oddly, “He’s quite intelligent.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She looked to the Ape-Man, who was still studying her with curious hazel eyes. She pointed to herself as she spoke deliberately, “Hello. My name is Lucy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Ape-Man tilted his head curiously as he took in her words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost as if he were mimicking her, he moved one of his hands to point at himself. He opened his mouth as words left him, sloppy but deliberate, almost as if he were trying to articulate perfectly, “My name…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She could have sworn she felt her heart leap in her chest as he looked at his hands. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Lucy…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She gasped and looked up at the Professor, “Professor!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Keep going!” Hidgens grinned widely, waving her onward. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She turned to the Ape-Man again, considering how she should go about correcting his statement. It was all very thrilling, hearing the person who might have been her childhood savior say her name. </em>
</p><p><em> “N-No, no…You’re not Lucy,” she gestured to him and shook her head before gesturing to herself, “ </em> I’m <em> Lucy.” </em></p><p>
  <em> He seemed confused so she gestured to herself again, repeating her name, “Lucy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a shaky hand, he gestured to her as well, “L-Lucy…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded excitedly as well, “That’s right…” she moved her hand to gesture to him, “And you are?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He tilted his head, his hazel eyes filled with some form of confusion, “Huh?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I mean…” she chuckled, absolutely giddy that she was actually talking to the Wooly-Foot, the creature that had saved her all of those years ago, “Your name can’t really be the Wooly-Foot.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She pointed to herself again, “Lucy…” she slowly moved a hand to point to him again, watching as his expression looked confused once more, “Lucy…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lord, she hoped she was making it clear what she was asking. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He lifted a hand slowly to point to her, “Lucy…” he looked down at his own hand and slowly moved it to point at him, his eyes flashing with something that didn’t quite look like confusion or cluelessness, “K-Konk…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She grinned, echoing his name for herself, “‘Konk’…Is...” she leaned in closer to him, “Is that your name?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nodded slowly, “I’m...Konk.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She could have squealed with excitement at the revelation.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Professor!” She practically shouted in a manner that her mother or old nanny would have scolded her for, “His name is Konk.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something that was crossed between a frown and confusion flashed across the Professor’s gaze as he looked at Konk, “Well...that’s news to me…” he snapped out of his confusion before turning to Lucy, his eyes filled with a strange kind of glee, “I don’t know why, but he’s opening up to you in ways I never thought possible…” </em>
</p><p><em> The Professor paced around her and Konk, almost theatrically as she was unable to tear her eyes away from the Ape-man before her, “It’s almost as if…” the Professor mused, “He </em> knows <em> you.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Of course! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She needed to ask if this truly was the man who’d saved her life all of those years ago. Back when she’d nearly fallen to her death as a foolish child. She needed to be sure, in her heart, that this truly was her friend. The friend everyone had claimed to not exist. The friend to whom she owed her whole life. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She searched his hazel eyes intently, searching for the truth. She felt that she surely must have seen this being somewhere in her life. She must have. The familiarity was unmistakable...she just couldn’t completely discern whether or not it was him that had saved her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you…” she began softly, “Remember me, Konk?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Konk’s face contorted slightly as if he were thinking hard, the look of recollection furrowing his features as he looked at her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slowly, one of his hands reached out and gestured to her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Lucy...fall…” he whispered, one of his hands falling through the air as if to illustrate his memory. To accompany the movement, his arms moved into some sort of cradling motion, as if he were miming the next part of his sentence, “Konk...catch…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy gasped and smiled at Hidgens, “It’s him!! It’s really him!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens raised an eyebrow with an accompanying grin, “You’re certain? You know this, without a doubt, to be the Wooly-Foot?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, smiling wider as she felt she might cry, “It’s him...I know it is…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens clapped his hands together in some sort of celebratory gesture, “That’s wonderful!!! Now, Miss Lucy, if you’ll join me in the kitchens for a cup of tea...we have much to discuss…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now…?” she asked, adjusting her tone so she didn’t sound like a petulant child to betray the fact that she didn’t want to tear her eyes away from the person who’d saved her life all of those years ago. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I assure you,” Hidgens smiled at her, a somewhat unnerving gesture, “He’ll be here waiting for us when we return, there are just a few important matters at hand that we have to discuss.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She looked from the Professor to Konk, who was smiling gently at her before she turned back and nodded, “Of course...of course…” </em>
</p><p><em> “Wonderful,” Hidgens turned to Konk, “Now...Chum-er... </em> Konk... <em> Miss Lucy and I are gonna be right back, okay?” </em></p><p>
  <em> Konk looked confused for a moment before mimicking the last word, “O-kay…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Professor turned to Lucy and started to usher her out of the room, “Shall we?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he led her out of the room, Lucy couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at Konk, unbelieving that she was truly looking at the Hatchetfield Ape-Man. She waved slightly at him, which made him smile back, mimicking the action with his hand. She had to stifle a giggle as Hidgens pulled the door shut.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A few moments later, Hidgens led her back through the expanse of the house and into a small cozy kitchen, which branched off of a much larger and more grand form of the kitchens, this seeming like someplace she would have stopped to eat breakfast in her childhood home. Hidgens didn’t say much as he retrieved a kettle from the back of the stove. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tea?” he offered her, “I’ve got some really good Earl Grey” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, unable to tear her mind from Konk, “Mm...yes please…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He gestured for her to sit down at the breakfast nook, and almost robotically she followed his motions.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Those hazel eyes, the gentle way he looked at her. It was almost as if he were the exact same as he had been all of those years ago. That person she’d dreamed of finding since she was a little girl. The fact remained that she hadn’t yet thanked him! She inwardly cursed herself for neglecting to do the very thing she’d sworn she’d do the moment she found him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens retrieved two teacups from the cupboard, looking over his shoulder at her, “Sugar in your tea?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, unable to form words that sounded coherent, “T-two...pl-please.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nodded, “And lemon?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, “Thank you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The kettle began to whistle as Hidgens continued to prepare the tea. A few seconds later, he placed a teapot of steaming tea on the table and handed Lucy a cup of her own. She watched as the steam danced through the dim light of the kitchen, the light from the somewhat rainy afternoon making her feel serene and at home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head as her mind went back to Konk. Her face practically hurt from smiling as much as she was when it came to her encounter with him. No doubt she was blushing like a complete idiot, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s incredible, Professor!” she exclaimed excitedly, “Simply incredible! We have to alert the scientific community at once!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens paled and dramatically set down his teacup on a saucer, “And then what, Lucy?” he waved off into the distance, nearly knocking an empty flower vase off of the table, “What will become of Konk?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy looked down. She hadn’t thought of that… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’ll be put in a cage,” Hidgens went on, with dramatic gusto, “Poked and prodded for the rest of his life…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy couldn’t deny the pang of horror that struck through her veins at the notion. She should have considered that when it came to the safety and wellbeing of Konk. She truly just wanted him to be happy and at peace, only...she didn’t know how to best accomplish that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She met the Professor’s wild blue eyes, “Then...what’s to be done, Professor?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Professor turned to look out the window dramatically, “He must...learn. Learn our language. Our ways.” He turned back to her, “Then when he understands his place in the world, let him decide his own fate. If he chooses to reveal himself to the world, we’ll honor that. If he chooses to live as a man, we’ll honor that. If he chooses to return to the woods, we’ll honor that too.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He slowly shrank back into his chair, eyeing her intently, “Whatever the case, Konk must decide for himself.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Of course!” Lucy nodded. How could she have been so stupid? She should have considered the fact that it was entirely up to Konk himself, “It </em> must <em> be his decision! I only want him to be happy.” </em></p><p><em> The Professor glanced back up at her, an odd look in his eyes, “ </em> You <em> make him happy, Lucy.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Lucy couldn’t fight against the blush that rose on her cheeks, “I do?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You saw him in there,” Hidgens gestured to the hallway from which they’d come, “Within two minutes he told you his name...something he’s kept from me for thirteen months.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He set down his teacup and stared at her intently, his blue eyes boring into her own as if he were pleading with her for something. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Lucy,” he began, his voice containing its usual theatrical flair, “Will you stay? Will you help me teach Konk what it means to be a man?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Professor...I…” Lucy looked down, taken aback by the sudden question. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ve got plenty of room here,” Hidgens gestured once more to the vast expanse of the house, “And I could use an assistant.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” Lucy looked down, unable to form words properly, to where the small lump in her glove betrayed the presence of an engagement ring. She was supposed to return to England today and be home in time for the final wedding preparations, as dull as they were, “I have a prior...en-engagement…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But she’d been searching for this her whole life! She’d wanted this for so long that she’d endured the scorn and scoffing of so many people for the majority of her life. Wouldn’t this make it all worthwhile? Wouldn’t this make the years of people telling her that she was just a child imagining things worth it all? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Lord, she did need an excuse not to leave Hatchetfield. She loved the town too much to abandon it now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But…” she bit down on her lower lip, making her choice excitedly, “It can wait. It has to!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled to herself, pleased that she’d finally made a choice relating to Konk for herself, not having to worry about the judgment of others, “By God, I’ve been searching for him my entire life! And now that I’ve found him... I’m never letting him go.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens nodded in understanding, “Then we’ll start tomorrow...bright and early.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The old man took another sip of his tea before placing the cup back down on the saucer and flashing Lucy a somewhat unnerving smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Konk has much to learn.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: May 12th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p>John sighed as he looked down at the collection of files, which were spread out like a butterfly’s wing in front of him. Two weeks had passed since the collapse of the victims, and they’d still made little to no progress in finding a treatment for them. The observations that Emma and Hidgens had made only proved that the markings on the back of each of the victim’s necks were getting larger, and that couldn’t have meant anything good.</p><p>Hidgens hadn’t said much to him in passing and was uncharacteristically avoiding him and Xander as he worked, which led to John doing all that he could to find out from Emma what he was doing. By all accounts, Emma had claimed he was normal, working through the samples they’d gathered and recorded the information with as much ease as they knew him to have. Admittedly, he was still wary of the man, especially where trusting him was concerned, but at the very least he’d been efficient in everything that he’d offered. </p><p>So far, they had fifteen different lab reports resulting from lab tests performed on all of the victims and yet each of them had come up with little to no notable results. Each of the victims was still trapped in what Hidgens referred to as Nightmare Time, and they certainly hadn’t made any headway in determining what it was that was causing it.</p><p>He sighed as he glanced down on the reports that he’d still yet to analyze that they’d just gotten that day. God, the fact that Emma hadn’t developed a carpal tunnel with as much typing as she was doing for them.</p><p>He glanced over the files for them with a sigh when a soft knock sounded at his door.</p><p>He looked up to see Xander leaning in, holding something wrapped in tinfoil with a small look of fondness crossing his face, “You didn’t come down for lunch...or dinner”</p><p>“Dinner?” John raised an eyebrow before glancing over at his watch, “It’s not yet…”</p><p>10:34 pm.</p><p>How had that much time passed already? It only seemed like it had been an hour or so since he’d been walking into the office to consider the facts again...and now their workday had been way past completed. </p><p>He guessed it had something to do with time flying when you accomplish nothing. </p><p>“I brought you what was left of the tuna sandwich stuff,” Xander remarked as he placed the sandwich down on his desk, “Eat.”</p><p>“Can’t,” John muttered as he looked down at the files that he still had yet to read. </p><p>“John,” Xander murmured in a warning tone, “I already had to get onto Ethan about his eating habits, don’t make me do the same to you.”</p><p>John looked up at the mention of Ethan’s name. He’d not seen the teenager when he and Xander had gone off to work, so he’d assumed that the boy had already gone to work in the mechanics bay, or perhaps to visit Lex and Hannah already, “How is he?”</p><p>Xander shook his head as he fell onto the couch across from him, “Still doesn’t talk much, but he’s eating more...which is good. He met me for lunch, though he didn’t eat anything until I told him to.”</p><p>John nodded, “He’s not been sleeping well, hasn’t he? I heard him last night.”</p><p>Xander shook his head, “Nope. But he does keep going down to see Myrtle in records. He’s still looking for his Dad.”</p><p>John sighed and looked down. </p><p>He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain that Ethan was going through. In some ways, the boy had battled more than John could even imagine after over ten years of being a General. The boy had met death, roamed a dimension of darkness for several lifetimes, before being returned to life and thrown into a life where they were still at war. While his experiences were similar to John’s own when it came to dying and inhabiting the Black and White, the boy was significantly younger and had spent so much time fighting to return to the people he loved the most. And now his father was missing and the two people he was soul bonded to were in immense danger...and as far as they knew, there was nothing they could do for them. </p><p>Despite all of this, Ethan Green kept going. </p><p>The boy kept himself busy for the most part, working in the Mechanics bay in-between visits to Lex and Hannah, as well as occasionally picking up young Tim from school when neither Becky nor Emma could. He rarely liked to talk about what had happened. Come to think of it, he rarely liked to talk to most people, but there were moments of softness and vulnerability that he showed around Tim, or when Emma would be around and they’d talk about the baby. The most softness that he showed during days like these, however, was when he’d spend hours just sitting with Lex and Hannah. Though the boy was sick with worry, he was always so gentle and calm when he was around them, even taking the time to re-braid Hannah’s hair when he wanted to. John could admire everything the boy did with his life and how strong he’d proven to be.</p><p>“He said he’d be back in the apartment by eight,” Xander remarked, “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed late again.”</p><p>“Can you blame him?” John muttered, “Ever since Lex collapsed and Hannah followed her into that Nightmare dimension, he’s been torn up with worry.”</p><p>“I agree,” Xander nodded, “To be honest...we all have been, but Ethan and Tim especially...”</p><p>John sighed and looked down as he thought of Tom’s boy, left in the care of Becky and his aunt as his father was thrown into. Still, the boy was so gentle, trying to keep the stiff upper lip in the middle of it all. Part of John was inclined to think that it was the Perkins' stubbornness about him that kept him acting in this particular way, but he could be impressed with all that the little boy could do. In spite of lacking a degree in biology, or any scientific authority, the boy had provided more comfort to John than Henry Hidgens had just by leaving flowers in the Quarantine Bay with each of the victims, even those that he didn’t know all that well, like Bill. Hell, the fact that he’d left flowers with Ted of all people was somewhat shocking to him, seeing all that Ted had done to harm them in the past. All that Ted had done to harm his family didn’t seem to matter to Tim when it came to caring for people.</p><p>He sighed and looked down, “It’s been two weeks already, Xander.”</p><p>Xander nodded with a wistful look in his eyes, “I know.”</p><p>“I know it’s impatient of me to want results this fast,” John sighed, “But I want to save them so badly…”</p><p>“I know, John,” Xander murmured, “But we’re in a situation where we understand little to nothing about what is going on.”</p><p>“But we should,” John muttered, “It’s our job to know.”</p><p>“We couldn’t have known this was going to happen,” Xander said, his voice sounding a little more assertive, “Sure, we should have, but we cannot expect to know everything in the universe. We can only hope that when we’re confronted by a problem, we can find a way to fix it.”</p><p>“And what if we can’t?” John reasoned, “What if we can’t find a result that saves their lives?”</p><p>He looked down. While it wasn’t proven yet that all of the victims were <em> dying </em>, the consistent falling of Paul’s vitals, in addition to a few other arrhythmia symptoms they all exhibited suggested that they couldn’t go on long in this state, which meant that they were on a time crunch without knowing when their deadline was. </p><p>“Okay…” Xander nodded, “So...let’s go over the facts again.”</p><p>“The facts?” John asked.</p><p>Xander nodded again, “Everything...we can see what it is that we know  to see if we missed anything.”</p><p>Xander grabbed a legal pad from the corner of John’s desk before flipping to a blank page, grabbing a pen from the cup of writing utensils while placing the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich down in front of John.</p><p>“You’re serious?” John raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yep,” Xander nodded, sitting back down on the couch, “You’re gonna eat the damn sandwich while we go over facts, okay?”</p><p>John sighed and begrudgingly grabbed the sandwich before leaning back in his chair while Xander leaned forward. </p><p>“So…” John mused, “Where do we start?”</p><p>Xander chuckled, “Where the hell can’t we start?”</p><p>John didn’t even know. It seemed as if the past few months had been an endless rollercoaster that didn’t seem to stop or slow down. Of course, they had their moments where they were allowed some moments of peace, but it never seemed to last long enough, or they never appreciated it enough. He hated that that was the way, but it was the bitter and ugly truth.</p><p>“Okay, so let's start with the portal incident,” John decided, “That was what...a few weeks after we made it out of the caves?”</p><p>Xander nodded, “Yeah, that was January twenty-third if I’m right.”</p><p>“Right,” John nodded, “So what happened there that was specific? Do we have any records of suspicious activity that Schaeffer might have kept on Spankoffski before the portal was activated?”</p><p>Xander shook his head, “The only suspicious records we have on Spankoffski was one or two DWIs and rather seedy search history. Other than that, according to all accounts, he’s just your typical office asshole.”</p><p>“An office asshole involved in the activation of a portal and later attacking us systemically,” John muttered, “So what happened that night? And why did he need Lex for it?”</p><p>Xander sighed, “Hannah called him the Goat’s Bastard, right?”</p><p>John nodded, “And I don’t think they meant anything in terms of literal siring, even if they probably would have had me fooled.”</p><p>“So what was Ted’s purpose?” Xander mused, “What happened on the night of January twenty-third that started all of this?”</p><p>John tried to remember everything he could about that night. That night when Ethan had reported Lex missing to Paul and Emma and how she’d been gone for hours. He remembered the alert that he and Xander had received that the portal had been activated when they met the group in their search of Lex, Paul, and Hannah being able to sense everything that was going on without understanding it. It was killing John that he couldn’t ask Paul or Hannah about that night again. Knowing that three of the most powerful people he’d ever known were out of commission, and it was his fault, was killing him.</p><p>“Well...you saw the burn,” John suggested, remembering Spankoffski’s shriveled and scarred palm, the permanent indentation of a cube scarred into his hand, “Maybe he really did have a box of sorts...something of importance to the Goat.”</p><p>Xander nodded, singing and looking down, “Whatever it was, it’s gone now. We scanned and searched that room, as well as Spankoffski’s residential quarters several times over and we found nothing. No indications of the energies of the Black and White anywhere.”</p><p>“And Lex?” John suggested, “What was her role in all of this?”</p><p>Xander shrugged, “I’m thinking she was there to retrieve Hidgens...but if Hidgens is truly on our side, why would they make Lex summon him? Wouldn’t it be better for them to leave him in the daydream dimension if he was going to aid us?”</p><p>John shook his head. He still wasn’t entirely sure that the man was still on their side entirely. Sure, he’d proven himself to be useful in the studies and gathering information, but the fact remained that they were no closer to saving the victims they needed to save. He was sure of one thing and one thing only; they were in no position to refuse his help. Especially not when he understood Nightmare Time better than the people they had that were still awake. </p><p>“And what happened to Ted’s mind…” Xander shook his head, “He went from catatonic to having delusions of grandeur…”</p><p>John flinched at the thought of the security footage he’d had to review to try and make sense of his attacking Emma. The man had been <em>so</em> <em>convinced </em>that the woman had attacked him as some form of robot, that he’d attacked her in her own labs and nearly killed her. Then again, had Hidgens not intervened when he had…</p><p>No. There was no guarantee that Hidgens hadn’t just saved Emma to make himself look good.  </p><p>The whole damn puzzle was so confusing. There was so much that they didn’t fully understand and that pissed him off to a certain extent. Still, he needed to keep a cool head. For the sake of everyone who was relying on him, he needed to keep himself calm. </p><p>He sighed.</p><p>From what they knew, Ted and Lex had been used on January twenty-third to bring Hidgens back and Ted’s mind to be destroyed, leaving him catatonic until one day he just up and attacked Emma out of nowhere. Every single questioning session Xander, Tom, and Dr. Abadi had tried to hold for the man had only revealed that the man believed that Paul and Emma were not themselves. Because of this, they found themselves at something of an impasse, coming to the conclusion that Ted was in the dimension Hidgens had only mentioned once before, Nightmare Time. Then another week had passed and the February seventh disaster happened. </p><p>“What of the Blinky zealots?” John asked, “That was out of nowhere.”</p><p>Xander nodded, “I’m pretty sure the zealots were a distraction.”</p><p>John raised an eyebrow, “A distraction? How?”</p><p>“Well,” Xander leaned forward, poising his head on his knuckles, “I was interrogating Ted when the attack happened...the Zealots broke in...Ted suddenly started acting up again...It makes sense that the zealot attack would be the way the Lords in Black get us where they want us to be so Ted can systematically do their dirty work.”</p><p>John had never thought about it like that. To be honest, that entire day had been so much of a disaster he’d not considered that there might have actually been a sense of order to that attack. He’d been so convinced that the Lords in Black operated primarily on chaos and chaos alone, that the systematic means of attacks didn’t seem like a possibility. He couldn’t deny how <em> valid </em>Xander’s theory seemed. </p><p>“Then why let Hidgens stop that Barker from killing Tom?” John mused.</p><p>Xander shrugged, “I don’t know...the whole Hidgens situation seems like a whole different wheelhouse in comparison to the rest. He’s truly an enigma...but I feel like we have to take everything he does one step at a time.”</p><p>John sighed. As much as he wanted to be one step ahead of everything that the Professor did, he knew there was no way he could keep up with both the man’s actions and the Lords in Black...unless they were truly one and the same. He shook those thoughts away as he looked at Xander. </p><p>“Although,” his husband mused, “There is <em> one </em>person we’ve not yet considered when we think about that day.”</p><p>John raised an eyebrow, “Who?”</p><p>Xander’s eyes widened as he stood, suddenly starting to pace in the room, “Why was he there? He had to have a reason...I mean, he couldn’t have just been there to taunt us...”</p><p>As Xander paced and was stroking his chin, John found his mind racing, “What do you mean? Who couldn’t have been there to taunt us?”</p><p>Xander turned to him, his eyes wide and his voice somewhat shaky.</p><p>“Cross.”</p><p>John felt his jaw go somewhat slack as he suddenly remembered the man’s presence at the February seventh attacks, taunting him, Xander, and Hidgens when they’d sat near-helplessly in the cell that had once been Ted’s. The man had been like a vulture, circling them like they were roadkill as they failed to understand what was happening.</p><p>Xander leaned against the desk, bracing himself against the wood as he had a look in his eyes that John recognized as bordering on an epiphany, “He called himself an emissary…”</p><p>He paced around the room, muttering under his breath.</p><p>“If he’s an emissary,” Xander was muttering, “Then there must have been a message.”</p><p>John stood, “How do you know what he told us wasn’t his message?”</p><p>Xander shook his head, his eyes betraying that he was deep in thought, “No...No...Cross wouldn’t have shown himself or called himself that if he didn’t actually have a purpose of sorts...which means…” his eyes widened again and he cursed under his breath, “Shit.”</p><p>“What?” John asked, watching as Xander’s eyes widened, calculating.</p><p>“There’s another person,” Xander muttered, his voice sounding haunted and shaky, “Another person we’ve never considered in all of this.”</p><p>Now John was very lost. He couldn’t think of anybody that they’d missed in their efforts to find out what had happened on those lower levels. There’d been nothing outside of Xander and John’s analysis of the footage or their own testimony to indicate that something else had happened, but judging from Xander’s face there was clearly more at play.</p><p>“But we never saw anything on the footage…” he was muttering, “And everything was secure on that level when we checked the rest of the cells…”</p><p>“Cells?” John raised an eyebrow, “Xan, you’re not making any sen…”</p><p>He trailed off as he realized where Xander was going with this.</p><p>The citadel chambers had only held two prisoners since they’d returned from Hidgens’ basement. One of them was Ted, and the other was a traitor who’d tried to murder them in cold blood. A woman who’d had Paul arrested and tortured to keep the news of their survival from getting out and done everything in her power to keep him separated from Emma. A person who’d seized the opportunity for power and had nearly killed all of them so many times, not even taking into consideration the fact that they’d had an injured child with them.</p><p>He cursed under his breath when he realized just <em> who </em> Xander was referring to.</p><p>“June….”</p><p>The name left him quietly, and he didn’t want to think about the recent history with the woman. The woman he’d once thought to be one of his closest and most trusted advisors who’d betrayed them for her own ambition.</p><p>“But her cell was secured,” John reasoned, “And there was nothing on the footage that indicated anybody went in there…”</p><p>“Yes,” Xander nodded, his voice sounding somewhat desperate, “But she has a connection to Cross, and who knows what the Lords in Black can offer her. Having her on their side could prove useful...so he could have talked to her.”</p><p>John sighed and looked down, the whole theory made sense, and somehow it managed to make him feel sick. The fact that two of the people he’d once trusted in his early days at PEIP could have been working with the enemy was something of a worry to him. He didn’t want to think about that, but he knew it was a viable option.</p><p>“We could at the very least <em> talk to her </em>,” Xander sighed.</p><p>John looked up at him, “Are you kidding? Even if we did, do you remember how many advanced lie detector tests she beat? How good she is at crafting lies? Who’s to say she won’t just feed us a crock of shit and call it couscous?”</p><p>Xander chuckled bitterly before shaking his head, “That’s the only option I can think of  unless we-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Knock knock knock </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John and Xander turned to the office door, where a soft rapping had caught their attention. </p><p>Xander raised an eyebrow, “Were you expecting someone?”</p><p>John shook his head, “To my knowledge, no...but people are always in and out of here so, who knows? Would you mind letting them in? It’s probably Rodney or something.”</p><p>With a tired nod, Xander walked over to the door and pulled it open before quirking an eyebrow at the sight of the person on the other side. Because of Xander’s muscular frame, John was only able to make out the tufts of choppy red hair belonging to the visitor as he spoke.</p><p>“Ye-Who’re you?”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Bill smiled at Alice as they stood in the gift shop of one of the rides at Watcher World, the Eye Drop, a ride which resembled one of those old log rides that he used to love as a kid. He’d thought the ride was absolutely fun, but Alice clearly seemed to think differently, especially since she’d gotten soaked as a result of being in the water.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t really know what her problem was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was having fun...so why wasn’t she? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It seemed that she’d been in a foul mood since they’d crossed the threshold of the park. And every time it seemed he turned his back to grab a souvenir or snacks, it seemed as if her mood had only worsened. Even just moments after they’d gotten into the park, he’d moved away to grab some eye-candy as well as some funny hats for the both of them, and he’d come back to her looking anxious as she watched one of the mascots that would roam the park uneasily. Funny, he’d always thought she’d loved those as a kid.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now, less than two rides later, as she looked dissatisfied with the tacky purple shirt she wore, which matched his own, he felt as if she was keeping what she was really thinking from him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was just being stubborn, he decided. She never liked to tell him whether or not she liked things, so it made sense that she wouldn’t start now. She was probably having the time of her life and was too embarrassed to tell him. Hadn’t he read somewhere on an online parent chat forum that was more common nowadays for teens?  It didn’t matter. She was having fun, as far as he knew, and he was certainly having more fun.  </em>
</p><p><em> He offered her some of his cotton candy, having decided that today would be a perfect cheat day for sugary carnival foods. She shook her head as she walked, somewhat slumped behind him as she did. He scanned the park, looking for the next fun activity. The purple and yellow tacky decor of the place seemed to be leading him in fifteen different directions as he tried to think of the next thing that they needed to do. The day was far from done, and he wanted to at the very least see Alice smile at </em>something,</p><p>
  <em> He caught sight of a large purple archway, with several yellow sculpted eyes marking it. At the top of the archway, there was a vibrant, marigold-yellow sign with kooky-looking font marking the landmark, which seemed to enter into a large train station-like area. From what he could see, the train was a dark shade of purple, with vibrant yellow accents and painted eyes all over the paneling. </em>
</p><p>Drowsy Town Station</p><p>
  <em> Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a pair of teenagers lean in together and snap a few selfies in front of the station itself. He smiled to himself as an idea popped into his head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice would love this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alice, look!” He pointed enthusiastically to the archway, “There’s a photo-op in front of Drowsy Town Station!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they started to move closer to the archway, Alice started to try to worm her way out of his embrace, smiling somewhat forcibly, “I’ll get one of you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head with a smile, “No...come here!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he took out his phone and leaned in close to her, hoping that they’d at the very least have a good picture to rub in his ex-wife’s face. As he looked at the camera, he took note of the unenthusiastic look on her face and he chuckled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, I see,” he nodded, humoring her, “We’re making pouty faces…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He mimicked her frown, even adding the duck-lips that he’d seen several different teenagers doing nowadays when they snapped pictures with their friends. He snapped the picture and looked down at it, smiling at the photo. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There ya go,” he showed her the photo, “Look at us, we’re models! Oh, we gotta gram this!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Gram’, was that slang that teenagers used? It didn’t matter because he was pulling up his Instagram app (which he only downloaded because he knew that Alice used it) and was preparing to upload the photo. </em>
</p><p><em> Alice chuckled, “ </em> Don’t <em> tag me in that.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Tag?” he asked her, confused, “How do I do that? Friend me on Instagram so I can send you this photo.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice rolled her eyes, “You don’t ‘friend’ people. You follow them.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sent her a teasing smile, “Well...I’d follow you anywhere.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She rolled her eyes again and looked down, murmuring something that sounded like ‘Tell me about it’ under her breath. He paid her no mind as he finally found a profile on Instagram with a picture that looked like her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, is this you?” he asked her, briefly showing her the profile, he tried to click on the profile to look at what she had posted, only to find that he could see none of them, “Why can’t I see your posts?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice looked down awkwardly, “Because my account’s private.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nodded, “That’s a good idea,” he inwardly cursed himself for not thinking of it first, “Don’t want Ted or his nerdy little brother stalking you on there.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shuddered at the idea as he looked down, trying to find a way that he could view what his daughter had posted, “How do I get in, though?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Dad,” Alice whispered, looking down, “It’s private so </em> you <em> can’t see it.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Bill was taken aback by the comment, “But...I wanna know what’s going on in your life.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice sighed and looked down, very obviously trying hard not to cause a scene and end the conversation right there, “If I want you to know something, I’ll tell you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed and shook his head, sensing a typical Alice loophole, “But...you never tell me anything…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice nodded, “Exactly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence in which Lydia’s haunting words echoed back at him, taunting him and making him feel as if he were a failure at parenting. God, how much had Alice changed since he’d seen her last? The truth remained that it wasn’t his fault. The fact that Lydia left him for Alan wasn’t his fault. The fact that she got Gary Goldstein as a divorce lawyer before he did wasn’t his fault. The fact that she was too lenient with Alice’s lifestyle wasn’t his fault. It was all Lydia’s fault. It was her fault that his daughter didn’t want him in her life anymore. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and glanced back down at the photo, at their near-matching duck lips. If he had to admit it to himself, he did notice how he looked slightly more ridiculous than Alice did. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know,” he started, trying to break the sudden wall of ice that had grown between them, “This really is a good picture. I bet you could be a model if you wanted.” </em>
</p><p><em> He turned to her, “You could be </em> anything <em> . A doctor. A lawyer-” </em></p><p>
  <em> “A playwright,” Alice muttered under her breath. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and waved her off, “Well...you got time to figure it out there’s no rush…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His attention was caught by a large neon yellow and purple sign above a building, small numbers pointing out the times when the shows within the building would continue.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Blinky’s Watch Party!!</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>A Musical Extravaganza through Drowsy Town!!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p><em> He glanced down at his watch and saw that they were about two minutes from the next show starting. Alice liked musicals, right? She’d made him sit through several before she could drive. And the truth remained that he was fond of a few himself, particularly musicals like </em> Mamma Mia! <em> Or </em>The Sound of Music. </p><p>
  <em> “Oh shit, shit, shit,” he murmured under his breath, starting to move towards the bright building, “Quick! Alice, the show’s about to start!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice groaned as her eyes fell to where he was pulling her, “Dad...I don’t wanna see some stupid kiddie show.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But Alice,” he reasoned excitedly as he wrapped an arm around her, “It’s a MUSICAL!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled politely at the usher standing outside of the building, who he realized looked strangely like the ticket-taker from earlier in the day, before they ran inside, being met by the sweet scent of candy and snacks that screaming children had brought into the theatre. Bill quickly found them a place on a bench that looked mildly less sticky or stained with sweat and sat down. Alice leaned back, curling her legs under herself as if she were trying to get comfy within the humid climate of the room, the sounds obnoxiously loud. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wake me up when it’s over,” she murmured. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nudged her on the side, “Come on, ya humbug. You can’t sleep through the show.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As if on cue, the house lights dimmed and the loudspeakers within the room echoed, the childish, high-pitched voice of an announcer (which sounded vaguely familiar) silenced everyone in the room. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Ahoy there, boys and girls! Welcome to Blinky’s Watch Party! A musical extravaganza through Drowsy Town! Please silence your cellphones and refrain from flash photography. You don’t wanna blind Blinky! He’s always watching! Now enough snooking around. Let’s start the show! Come on, Sniggles!”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bill clapped excitedly as purple and yellow stage lights lit up, illuminating the stage as a childish jingle began to play. Children clapped and cheered as several people, dressed in purple t-shirts and feathery purple sleeves ran up to the stage, clapping and cheering. A woman with two, almost cartoonishly voluminous, pigtails stood in front of the audience as the group of people, whose shirts read ‘Blinky’, danced and clapped excitedly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey everybody!” she greeted cheerfully, her voice high pitched and cartoonish as she waved at all of them, “We’re the Sniggles! Don’t be scared!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Loud, cheery music began to echo throughout the auditorium as three of the ‘Sniggles’ stood in front of the others.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Sniggles!” One of the three men addressed the others, his purple hipster-looking glasses pushed up on his nose, “Do you know what time it is?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s time for the Blinky Song, of course!” One of the other men, with his dark hair in a strange form of a man-bun, cheered excitedly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The first Sniggle nodded and smiled, “That’s right!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah!!!” All of the Sniggles jumped up and cheered as an almost infectious beat began to fill the room, the two female Sniggles starting to dance as the three began to sing. </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> Blinky’s got those eyes that really bug out <em> ,” The first one sang, “T </em>hey’re red and yellowy!!”</p><p><em> “ </em> Blinky’s got that fur that really spills out, <em> ” The second one chimed in, “ </em>That makes the town drowsy!!”</p><p>“In Drowsy Town, we shake and move,” <em> the first one continued, “ </em>And don’t upset our boss…”</p><p>“Cuz if we do,” <em> the second one sang, </em>“His eye gets red-”</p><p>“And he might just spill our guts!” <em> The first two sang together while the third, a tall man with long dirty-blond hair began to vocalize. </em></p><p>
  <em> Bill yawned as a sudden wave of drowsiness began to overtake him. It wasn’t that the show wasn’t engaging...Bill was probably just getting old. </em>
</p><p>“Blink Once, Blink Twice…” <em> All three of them sang in unison, the other two sniggles dancing a charleston as they did, “ </em>If you get the sniggle urge to move! Blink Once, Blink Twice...If you’re gonna shake your feather soon! Oh, you got to, got to, got to, got to get those Sniggle wings in sync! Oh, you got to, got to, got to, got to...Move those as feet fast as you-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Blink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He opened his eyes and found that he was standing in the middle of a decimated-looking expanse of wood, almost as if someone’s woodpile had just been destroyed by a storm or something. The scent of wood and blood seemed to stain the air, making him cough and stumble around. In the distance, he could see a Ferris wheel’s purple and yellow lights flickering weakly as smoke rose from all directions. His heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled, against his will, walking towards what looked like a destroyed amusement park...a place that looked vaguely familiar.</p><p> </p><p>What the hell?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Blink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He opened his eyes again, nodding off the wave of sleepiness that he was trying to ward off. The sound of clapping snapping him free of his daze as all of the Sniggles began to wave and run off of the stage. The third male Sniggle, the bearded one with messy blond hair and wide purple sunglasses, waving and jumping up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked to see Alice scratching her head as she stared at the creatures on the stage.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay…” she murmured, addressing nobody in particular, “What are the Sniggles? Are they monsters or birds?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chuckled nervously under her breath, “What am I watching and why is it so stupid?” </em>
</p><p><em> Bill chuckled and leaned back, stifling a yawn, “Now you know how I felt during </em>Dear Evan Hansen.”</p><p>
  <em> The bearded Sniggle held up his feathered arms and gestured to the other people on stage with him, talking in a high-pitched, cartoonish voice of his own. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright Sniggles!” he called out, “Last one to the Snackle-Shop is a rotten snoogle!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As if they actually understood what the man was saying, most of the other Sniggles jumped up and cheered, running enthusiastically offstage to join their bearded leader, leaving the Sniggle woman, the one with the pigtails standing in the middle of the stage, her eyes tracing over the crowd with uncertainty.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Poking his head out from behind the purple curtain, the first Sniggle to sing the Blinky Song gestured to her, “You coming, Snigglette?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The woman, Snigglette, turned to look at her friend, waving him off, “You go on, Sniglotts. I’m all snackled out.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her apparent friend nodded and waved, “Okay! See ya in a snig!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once the man had disappeared, Snigglette turned back to the audience. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill fought back against a yawn as she looked at them, another pensive look in her eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey everyone,” she murmured, her voice sounding starkly different from the enthusiasm with which she’d greeted the crowd moments earlier, “Can I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone?” she sighed and looked down, “The other Sniggles just wouldn’t understand.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill leaned back as another yawn fought its way out of him as the lighting on the stage turned into a light lavender color and the woman began to sing, a soft piano playing under her voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her voice was soft, tantalizing, like a lullaby...but he couldn’t pick up on any of the words she was singing...and suddenly, before Bill could fight it, he found himself sinking into sleep once more, his eyes shutting as he caught himself… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Blink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He opened his eyes again and found that he was in the same forest, trudging along the path. Though the wind was cool and the scent of smoke was high in the air, he found himself to be perfectly warm. His feet were bare, but every time he stepped on a piece of broken wood, he found that he was unharmed and his feet didn’t even hurt. </p><p>His footsteps sounded so heavy as he found himself trudging back towards the amusement park in the distance. The purple and yellow lights looked tantalizing to him as he moved towards it. Why did it look so familiar? Why was he so certain he’d seen it before?</p><p>He found himself moving closer to it, against his will. He hadn’t wanted to walk towards it...so why was he?</p><p>Why couldn’t he move on his own accord?</p><p>Why couldn’t he speak?</p><p>Why did the world suddenly seem a lot smaller than it had before?</p><p>He found that he was standing at the edge of one of the cliffs in Hatchetfield, one of the most beautiful spots...or it used to be. He had no idea what happened, but the fact that the scent of blood and smoke seemed to fill his lungs with every breath he took, he couldn’t begin to describe what he thought had happened. He tried to turn around, to run the other way looking for something he didn’t know, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he just found himself staring down at the amusement parks that started around the base of the cliffs, surrounded by the expanse of the witchwoods on one side, and the lake by the other. The longer he looked, the more he could see as he peered into the amusement park, seeing through the smoke which seemed to rise in a  continuous plume from the structure.</p><p>To his horror, he could see people, all of them dancing around, pained smiles on their faces as they cried out, praising something called ‘the Watcher’. The longer he looked, he could see people doing things that could only have been dangerous or harmful, but they did it with a permanent smile on their faces, regardless of what injury they were causing themselves. The carnival music was painful to listen to as screams of pain and amusement seemed to chime through the air. He felt as if he might throw up as soon as he noticed the bloodstains on the ground surrounding them. He felt as if he were glued to his spot as he stared down at the calamity he was viewing. Every fiber of his being was begging him to run, begging him to scream at the horrific sight, but he was stuck to the spot. </p><p>He could hear the screams louder than anything else, and he wanted to cry, but whatever it was that was keeping him rooted to his place on the edge of the cliffs kept him staring at it. For whatever reason, he found himself filled with an odd sense of...enjoyment?</p><p>What the hell?</p><p>There was no way he should have been enjoying this!</p><p>People were suffering and for whatever reason, he found himself liking it?</p><p>What kind of sick-</p><p>“<em> Beautiful...isn’t it Blinky-winky?” </em></p><p>He whirled around to see a man approaching him, with pulsing yellow, blue, and red eyes. With a fearful twist of his stomach, he noticed the green tint that the man had to his skin, and how the man’s shockingly green hair looked slimier than it did actual hair. Though he was dressed in the kind of suit businessmen would wear, it was an odd shade of green, and was stained with blood. </p><p>The man grinned, revealing rows of bloodstained sharp teeth, and as he opened his mouth to speak, an array of green, slimy, snake-like tentacles emerged from his mouth, making Bill feel like he should throw up.</p><p>“You’ve done a really good-y job with the place,” the man went on, his voice sounding as if it was filled with some childish form of glee, “You do know how to have funny-wun, you know?”</p><p>Bill wasn’t even given the mercy of shuddering at the man’s voice, which sounded like nails against a chalkboard as the man studied him with wide, terrifying eyes. </p><p>“Blinky-<em> wiiiiink </em>?” the man asked, drawing the last syllable of the name, “Are you in theeeere…?”</p><p>It was then that Bill realized that the man was addressing him.</p><p>Without his consent, his head looked down to the ground, and what Bill saw could have made him scream. </p><p>He was wearing the outfit of a carnival barker, with no shoes, which was somewhat odd...he would have fixated on that detail a little more, had it not been for the fact that the skin of his feet was a light shade of lilac.</p><p>
  <em> What the hell?!?!? </em>
</p><p>He found himself looking up at the strange monster of a man across from him, who opened his mouth to speak. His heart didn’t even pick up in pace as he could feel the fear take root in his mind.</p><p>“Blink-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bill opened his eyes, rubbing away at the sleep that had crusted in the corners of his eye, and found that he was in the Drowsy Town Theatre...his weird dream already forgotten. Alice was looking at him from her place on the bench, a look of fear and horror in her eyes, mixed with disappointment...at him, presumably. As he took note of the cheerful exit music playing over the loudspeakers, and the people who were noisily shuffling themselves out of the theatre, he looked at her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Huh?” he stammered, snapping his senses back into the game, “Is it over?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Upon seeing her disappointed and annoyed expression he sighed and shrugged, “I was just resting my eyes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They both stood, Alice not waiting for Bill to exit the theatre as he stretched and approached an usher. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey…” she said, her voice shaky as if she couldn’t comprehend something that had just happened, “Is that woman alright?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The usher looked confused for a moment before muttering, “What woman?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice looked more confused as the usher’s attention was drawn by another theatergoer, an impatient mother inquiring about when the next show would be.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey…” he asked his daughter, taking note of her odd expression, “You okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice was snapped out of her trance as she glanced between the usher and the stage, looking even more confused than before, “Yeah...Yeah...I’m good.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed, feeling like he’d failed to entertain his daughter...yet again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a brightly-colored pastry cart, the bright purple and yellow lettering detailing the types of fried foods being sold. He turned to Alice with a smile, “You hungry?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice only offered him a halfhearted sigh and nod as they went to the cart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Whatever Bill had missed in the theatre, it couldn’t have been very important.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alice was just being stubborn again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No matter, he had time to prove her wrong, he could afford to miss a few minutes in the theatre.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They had plenty of time to have fun together. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And nothing would ruin it. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Emma opened her eyes softly, waking up from a peaceful and gentle night of sleep, surprisingly unbroken by the usual cries of her newborn. The soft white sheets of her and Paul’s bed were comfortable and wrapped close to her as sunlight passed through the curtains, painting beams of gold throughout the room. She groaned softly as she forced herself to sit up and rub at her eyes, knowing there was no way she was going to sleep again. Searching through the dim light of the bedroom, her hand wandered off to the opposite side of the bed, where she found empty space, but the sheets were warm, meaning he only must have just gotten up. Glancing over to his bedside table, she found that indeed, his glasses were missing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled to herself and stood from the bed, relishing in the feeling of her two bare feet on the rug that was under their bed as she set off in search of Paul, knowing there was only one place where he could have gone this early in the morning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She quietly pushed open their bedroom door and emerged quietly into the hallway, seeing that the door on the opposite end of the hallway was cracked open, soft morning light glinting through. She smiled softly to herself as she approached, her ankles cracking slightly as she approached when the sound of soft and quiet singing reached her ears. </em>
</p><p>“Yes, I understand that every life must end,” <em> the voice was gentle and calm, but beautifully holding the melody, </em>“As we sit alone, I know someday we must go...Oh, I’m a lucky man to count on both my hands the ones I love...Some folks they have one...others they have none.”</p><p>
  <em> She pushed open the door to the room they’d painted a soft sage green, to lean against the doorframe as her eyes fell on the love of her life, sitting in a comfy rocking chair by the window, looking down at a small bundle, wrapped in a cream-colored blanket. He looked tired, his eyes filled with nothing but love as he smiled softly down at the bundle holding their baby, not noticing that she was watching them fondly. </em>
</p><p>“Stay with me,” <em> he continued to sing, </em>“Let’s just breathe…”</p><p><em> She watched as his smile grew as he watched the bundle, “ </em>Practiced on our sins, never gonna let me win...under everything, just another human being. Yeah, I don’t wanna hurt, there’s so much in this world to make me bleed. Stay with me...you’re all I...”</p><p>
  <em> He trailed off as he suddenly looked up to see her, a soft blush crossing his face as his smile widened.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How long have you been there?” he whispered, not moving as not to disturb their baby. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A couple of verses,” she smiled, starting to walk over to him to press a kiss to his forehead, and look over his shoulder to look at their child, “You sounded good.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She was getting a little fussy,” he reasoned, “Figured it would help her relax.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She loves the sound of your voice,” she smiled, leaning over the back of the rocking chair to gaze down at their daughter, “And quite frankly, I love it too.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He hummed under his breath as they both looked down at the bundle in his arms. Though their baby was mostly swaddled in one of the many knit blankets that Alice had made for them, she could still see the little thing crack open her tiny blue eyes slightly, making it look almost as if she were rolling her eyes. She stifled a chuckle as the baby smacked her lips and fell back asleep, leaving Paul to laugh quietly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, she’s definitely your daughter,” he whispered before looking up at Emma adoringly, “You did well on this one, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “Damn right, I did,” Emma whispered, “Though I do have you to thank for it...Especially when it comes to her eyes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Paul hummed under his breath as he slowly stood, careful not to wake their daughter, “Do you want to move this to the living room? I’ll make tea or coffee if you wanna feed her?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded and hummed, holding out her arms to accept the bundle from him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the baby’s head before gently and expertly transferring her weight into Emma’s arms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “C’mere sweetheart,” Emma murmured, smiling down at the baby before looking up at Paul, “Morning, Paul.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He smiled down at her and leaned down before pressing a kiss to her lips, careful not to squish their daughter between them as he did, “Morning, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He held open the door to the nursery as she walked out smiling down at their daughter before making it to their small living room which was adjoined with the kitchen. She slowly and gently sat down on the couch, “Morning, baby.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The baby only cracked open her eyes sleepily, before the small stretch of her mouth opening in a yawn. Emma chuckled softly before guiding the little thing to feed, Paul, moving over the coffee maker before stopping at the kettle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tea or coffee, Em?” he asked quietly, smiling as his eyes fell on her holding their daughter </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hmmm....” Emma hummed before looking up, “Tea this morning, please... peppermint if we’ve got it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You got it,” Paul smiled before setting the kettle on the burner and set to make himself a cup of coffee. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A few moments later, the kettle started to whistle, and Paul steeped her a cup of tea, the dream-like aroma of Peppermint filling the room as their daughter decided she’d eaten her fill. Paul gently set the two mugs of the steaming drinks on the coffee table as he sat down next to Emma, nestling close as they both watched their sleepy daughter. </em>
</p><p><em>“It’s weird,” Paul murmured, “She’s already a month old.”</em><em><br/></em> <em>Emma nodded, “Mm-hmm.”</em></p><p>
  <em> “I don’t like that,” Paul whispered, “The fact that the first month went by so fast…I just...I want to watch her grow up and be her own person, of course, but I also want her to stay little.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I get that,” Emma murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watched their daughter yawn again, Paul smiled and Emma could almost sense his heart-melting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “God, she’s just…” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “I didn’t think I’d ever have anything like this...this was the kind of stuff Jane wanted in life...I just never thought it was something that was meant for me…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In her arms, their baby yawned again, opening her blue eyes to peer up at her parents. Paul chuckled before gently cupping his hand under their daughter’s head, careful as always, his thumb gently tracing circles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But I’m so glad I do,” Emma murmured, “I’m so glad we have her. That we have this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Me too, Emma…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They sat there in silence for a moment, watching as their baby started to make little cooing noises which made her want to laugh. Their daughter was the most precious miracle to ever have entered their lives. Emma had never wanted to settle down in Hatchetfield. She’d once believed there was no worse fate than that, but somehow, this man had made his way into her heart and given her every reason she could think of to stay...even giving her a child to go along with it. Now, as she sat on the couch, holding their daughter and leaning into his warmth, she thought she never wanted to leave. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Em?” Paul whispered, breaking the silence, “Can I ask you a question?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hmm?” she hummed, not looking up from their baby. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul inhaled and exhaled sharply before murmuring in a voice that almost didn’t sound like his own. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “If you love me so much, then why’d you let me go?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The question took her aback, making her feel like her lungs were suddenly, inexplicably void of air. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “W-what?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tentatively, she turned around to face him, before the sight she saw seemed to tear through her.  She gasped and pulled the baby closer to her as she was unable to pull her eyes away from him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, “Em?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was pale...almost as if he was a corpse, void of any and all life, looking as if he were a hollow version of the man she’d fallen in love with. His entire body seemed to be covered in black, thin veins, making out a terrible pattern of spider webs, which seemed to move with every breath he took.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The worst of it all was his eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No longer were they the soft shade of blue that she’d loved since she’d taken his first order of black coffee. Instead, they were an endless, darker-than-ink, shade of black, almost as if the metaphorical bottomless pit had been placed in his eyes as dark, ink-like tears dripped from them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He murmured her name again, tears continuing to pour from his eyes, his voice sounding strained and filled with pain, making her heart twist in her chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma…why?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked like he was in so much pain. His every movement looked stiff and filled with pain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before she knew what was happening, the world around her began to flake away, disappearing into piles of black dust that rose to a roar. In her arms, the baby began to shriek and cry as Paul was swept away from her in the tidal wave of blackness. She was unable to comprehend her own scream as his voice echoed in her mind. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Emma, why did you let me go?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em> PAUL!” </em></p><p>Emma shot up in bed as if she’d been pulled by a string, clutching at her chest, the name leaving her in a terrified gasp that seemed to border on a shriek.</p><p>Though her vision was blurred as she was sparked back into wakefulness, she found herself searching for him in the dark, her hands grappling aimlessly at his side of the bed only to find the memories of what had happened to him being restored with a single touch of the cold sheets and empty space beside her, filling her with a terrible lead-like sense of dread which sank in her stomach and made her feel sick. </p><p> Her heart was pounding in her chest, making her throat and head hurt. Her head felt sticky as sweat pasted her messy brown waves to her scalp as she panted, trying to catch her breath. </p><p>After a few moments in which the only sounds she was able to comprehend were the pounding of her own heart and the sound of blood rushing through her ears, she felt a small kick come from within her...a small reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone.</p><p>Her hand went to her stomach, gently running over the small baby bump, which had grown quite a bit since Paul had collapsed all of those weeks ago. </p><p>“I’m okay….” she whispered to herself, just now realizing how broken her voice sounded, taking notice of the tears which threatened to fall, “I’m alright, baby...you are too.”</p><p>But Paul wasn’t.</p><p>She sighed and wiped at her eyes as the small sensation of the baby kicking continued, the little one seemingly calling her out for lying to herself. </p><p>She was fairly certain she’d done a good job of keeping things together over the previous two weeks, managing to keep herself together when it came to taking care of herself, Tim, and the baby, all the while working with Hidgens in trying to understand what was going on with the victims, which was a painfully slow stalemate. While she hated the fact that they possessed little to no indication of what was happening, she’d done her best to keep herself calm and collected, trying to work hard at not giving away how much it was killing her. She wanted all seven of the victims to be safe and healthy (yes, even Ted) as soon as possible, and yet, the fact that they were moving slower than a snail’s pace made things all the more difficult.</p><p>She tried to fall back onto the pillows, trying to fall back asleep, but her back ached...as did her head...and the baby was still kicking. She sighed and ran her hand over her stomach. </p><p>“I know,” she murmured, “I’m restless too, but we can’t get anything done if we don’t sleep, right?”</p><p>The baby didn’t seem to agree as Emma felt what might have been a foot apply pressure near her ribs.</p><p>Emma sighed and rubbed at her eyes, slightly puzzled by the baby’s sudden uptake in activity. Of course, the movement hadn’t actually begun until a few weeks ago, but until the day before, the baby had been mostly still, reminding Emma of a koala or something cuddly, but now...now it seemed like the baby could sense Emma’s unease. </p><p>Either way, it was made clear to Emma that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all.</p><p>She sighed and stared at the ceiling, unable to feel comfortable in any way. The baby’s kicking had somewhat subsided, but her brain continued to run wild with the dream. </p><p>
  <em> “Why did you let me go?” </em>
</p><p>In some cruel way, the dreams reminded her of the ones she’d had before they’d been able to escape from the caves, just before she and Paul realized they had created some strange pocket reality. In some ways, before Paul had actually been there, her mind had created some version of him to fill her with guilt, and it was happening again.</p><p>She knew there was no way in hell that Paul Matthews would make her feel guilty. He’d rather make himself look like a fool before he made her feel like she owed him anything. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t the kind of person who wanted to make anyone feel bad about anything, or at least not intentionally. </p><p>And she hadn’t let go of him.</p><p>She couldn’t. </p><p>As long as they still had a chance at saving their lives, she would do anything in her power to save him. She couldn’t let him go, not after all that they’d been through, and not before he got the chance to meet their child.</p><p>She lay there for a while, fighting against the tears which pricked at the back of her eyes, making her head hurt more as she waited and watched. She wanted nothing more than to sleep all of this off so she could begin a new day and forget that her subconscious liked playing tricks on her, but sleep wouldn’t come, and her eyes kept darting to the dresser, where her lab coat and keycard were exposed to her, laying carelessly across the wood as she didn’t feel like hanging it up in the closet.</p><p>She sighed and made her choice. </p><p>Getting out of bed and getting dressed was a little bit of a lengthy process, as she had to put on her prosthetic, which included a lot of adjustments, especially since the residual limb was somewhat swollen as she moved forward in her pregnancy. Once she managed to put her leg on, she also had to haphazardly get dressed and braid her hair messily, before grabbing her lab coat and heading out. </p><p>The hallways were silent and somewhat dark as she walked to the quarantine bays, feeling like a zombie as she did. Though it usually took her five to seven minutes to get down to the lower levels with the bay, the walk seemed to take both forever and no time at all, almost as if everything passed in a blur. Finally, when she made it to the large metal doors, she felt another soft kick from within her, almost urging her to slide her damn keycard and go inside.</p><p>She sighed and ran her hand over her stomach before sliding her card and opening the door, being met by the sickeningly familiar scent of disinfectant and the chill at which Hidgens kept the quarantine bay. </p><p>“Emma?” she looked ahead and saw Hidgens sitting at his temporary desk, numerous empty coffee cups sprawled out in front of him as he worked at his computer. He looked relatively surprised to see her, “What are you doing here at this hour?”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep,” she offered blandly, “I just wanna sit with him for a while...if that’s okay?”</p><p>Hidgens looked somewhat surprised, a melancholy form of understanding flickering across his face as he studied her. He nodded solemnly and gestured to the transparent curtains to his right, “Of course.”</p><p>She nodded in thanks as something that wasn’t quite anxiety twisted in her heart. She didn’t even feel like she was walking as she moved towards Paul’s hospital bed. Rather, it felt as though something was pulling her towards him, almost as if she couldn’t avoid it, no matter how much pain it gave her.</p><p>Tentatively and slowly, she drew back the transparent curtain that was separating herself from him and her heart sank when she finally looked at him. </p><p>The infection on the back of his neck had only spread a little bit, the black veins barely visible around the base of his skull around his ears. Just seeing them was enough to make her feel sick, but she closed the curtain behind her all the same, lowering herself into the chair she’d placed in his makeshift room a few weeks before.</p><p>Had it not been for the wires and tubes that were covering him, much like they had when he’d been infected all those months ago, she would have thought he was sleeping. Like maybe it was a day where they could both afford to oversleep for just a few more moments. Like she’d woken up just before him and could afford to just relish the fact that she’d picked someone like him to be in her life. That he’d wanted her in his life. </p><p>His eyes were closed, as she expected them to be, the beautiful shade of blue concealed behind exhaustion and something they didn’t understand that was slowly killing him. They didn’t know if he was in any pain, but she wouldn’t have been surprised with how sickly he looked. His skin pale and dark circles under his eyes.</p><p>At the base of it all, Emma just felt <em> raw </em>as she studied him. Almost as if her eyes had cried all of the tears she could manage, and yet still threatened to fall as she watched.</p><p>“H-Hey, Paul,” she whispered, debating whether or not she should take his hand, despite the fact of the obscenely large IV taped to his skin.</p><p>Again, she felt another soft kick from within her, she smiled softly at the sensation but feeling something like a geyser of sadness shoot through her veins.</p><p>“I think the baby misses you, Paul,” she joked, despite the bittersweet intonation of her voice, “And they’re not the only one…” </p><p>If he were awake, she liked to imagine that he’d open his eyes and crack that soft dopey grin of his, smiling at her before he looked down and saw how much the baby had grown over the past few weeks. He’d probably say something weird like ‘when the hell did that happen?’ or something that was so inherently <em> Paul. </em>Then she’d probably tell him about how the baby was kicking and he’d cry. </p><p>But he’d be okay.</p><p>Part of her wished he’d just open his eyes right there.</p><p>But he didn’t.</p><p>And he wasn’t okay.</p><p>She sighed, feeling her heart sink.</p><p>Why did this keep happening to them?</p><p>Why were they getting more acquainted with some version of the infirmary than they were with their own apartment?</p><p>It wasn’t fair.</p><p>Unable to stop herself, she reached over and lifted his still hand into her own, careful not to disturb the IV port which Hidgens had continuously used to collect blood samples from since she’d insisted that he didn’t like getting blood drawn from his arm. The sight of the bruises underneath the tape and plastic was enough to make her feel sick.</p><p>“The baby’s kicking a lot,” she explained, “It’s funny, just yesterday it wasn’t doing much, but now it’s something of a wiggle-worm…”</p><p>She laughed slightly, but there was nothing joyful about what she had said, or anything humorous about the situation.  </p><p>“God, Paul…” she whispered, wiping away at the tears that threatened to fall, “This isn’t fair.”</p><p>Again, no response.</p><p>She sighed, disheartened, and squeezed his hand softly when an idea came to her.</p><p>Slowly, she lifted his hand (God, why was it so cold?) and placed it on her stomach, holding his hand gently to avoid causing any unintentional harm. She gently shifted his hand around until she found just the right spot. </p><p>She waited for a moment, using both hands to hold his limp hand to the same spot until she finally felt the sensation of the baby kicking once more.</p><p>“Feel that Paul?” she murmured, not expecting him to respond, “This is gonna be one strong little gremlin, I can…I can tell...”</p><p>Emma felt her voice break and tears fill her eyes again as the baby continued to kick, Paul not reacting in any way.</p><p>“God…” she whispered to herself, allowing some of the tears to fall, “You shouldn’t be here...you should be okay… you...you should be doing this with me...cause I-I sure as <em> fuck </em> don’t wanna do it without you…”</p><p>She wiped away at the tears, realizing just then that she was out of breath from as hard as she was crying.</p><p>“It’s been hard, Paul,” she murmured, tears forcing her voice to break as she held his hand closer to her,  “It’s been so hard, and I don’t...I can’t…”</p><p>She sighed again, hating the fact that she suddenly felt like baring her soul at this very moment. </p><p>The truth remained that if it came down to it, she could probably protect herself and her child without Paul if worse came to worse…she’d already survived through so much that she could at the very least keep the kid alive. </p><p>But she needed Paul to complement her edges. She needed him to be gentle in times where she couldn’t, help her have the hard conversations, and hell, even help with math homework, and domestic shit like that. </p><p>She needed him to raise this baby with her. </p><p>She couldn’t imagine a life without his light in it. </p><p>And frankly, she didn’t want to.</p><p>Gently, she moved one of her hands to push his brown hair, which was in desperate need of trim out of his face, gently brushing it away.</p><p>“I love you, Paul,” she whispered, “I never feel like I say it enough...but I do…”</p><p>All of that was true. There were never enough times where she felt like she’d told him she loved him. She did, of course, she just felt like there was no way she could have told him how much.</p><p>“And maybe I’m crying so much because I’m pregnant…” she went on, “Or maybe it’s because this is all so much...but...I want you back.”</p><p>She couldn’t think of anything else to say. The words just seemed to run dry as she watched him. It was strange, with as many times as she’d sat beside him, hoping that he’d open his eyes at any second and the nightmare would be over, she’d never been able to come up with anything to say to him. There’d never been anything she’d thought to say...but something about tonight felt different...almost as if -</p><p><em> “General!” </em> Hidgens’ surprised voice cut through her solemn reverie, making her jump and wipe away her tears as if it was a kind of knee-jerk reaction, “ <em> What brings you here?” </em></p><p>She gently pressed a kiss to Paul’s hand and set it down on the bed, before moving out of his area to see John striding forward, a strange look on his face. His eyes widened as they landed on her. </p><p>“Emma?” he asked, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>She sighed and prayed that her eyes weren’t puffy, “Visiting Paul…” she raised an eyebrow as she scanned the man, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>He sighed and looked around, almost as if he was still trying to decide that for himself, “I-”</p><p>Suddenly, her attention was caught by the clicking of high heels across the floor of the infirmary floor. She looked up to see Xander and an unfamiliar woman entering the quarantine bay, a grave expression on Xander’s face. </p><p>The woman, however, was something of a puzzle. </p><p>For a moment, Emma wondered if she was looking at a person who’d stepped off of the pages of those old catalogs from the mid-eighties and early-nineties that Jane used to collect when they were kids. </p><p>The woman was taller than her, with a head full of choppy red hair which made her look like some forgotten pop star, the voluminous red waves framing her face, and sharp green eyes. She wasn’t dressed in any lab attire or a military uniform. In fact, the woman’s outfit consisted of bright platform heels which were striped with colors that Emma was pretty sure had only been created for a pack of highlighters, a pair of strangely patterned leggings in shades of turquoise and hot pink, which actually went along with a turquoise patterned shirt with a belt above the woman’s hip bones. She wore a pair of clunky yellow hoop earrings which peeked out from behind her mop of hair but were somehow not tangled in the waves of it all. Over the entire outfit, there was a thick, denim jacket covered in pins from various bands Emma was sure she’d recognize if she dug out her list of favorite songs from when she was a kid. </p><p>Needless to say, the woman stood out.</p><p>She turned to Xander, “These are all of the victims?”</p><p>Xander nodded, a puzzling expression on his face, “Yep.”</p><p>The woman hummed under her breath as she looked across the room, her eyes scanning them. Her eyes fell on each of the victims and she seemed to study all of them intently, not saying anything as she did. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hidgens cut in, “Who is this?”</p><p>The woman turned around and studied the Professor for a moment.</p><p>John sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “This is…”</p><p>“The name’s Holloway,” the woman cut in before John could answer for you, “I hear you wanna see what’s going on inside of their heads?”</p><p>Everyone looked taken aback for a moment, silence enveloping the room. Everyone stared at the redhead as if she’d just told them she was an alien from Mars.</p><p>“How…” Hidgens began, “How did you know?”</p><p>“I was told,” the redhead deadpanned, still eyeing Hidgens with a look that was almost...<em> suspicious, </em> “I was summoned for that specific reason.”</p><p>“Summoned?” Emma let a bitter, humorless laugh loose, unwilling to believe it, “By whom?”</p><p>The redhead shot Emma a small smile, studying her in a way that made Emma want to squirm, but she was too exhausted to do so, before turning to one of the pods...the one holding Lex and Hannah. With a graceful and gentle hand, the woman pointed at Hannah, a melancholy look crossing her face.</p><p>“Her.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...that's fun.</p><p>Lucy is precious and deserves all of the love, okay?</p><p>John and Xander are trying their best here.</p><p>Wonder what's going on with Bill...that's really weird, huh?</p><p>Emma needs all of the hugs and baby Paulkins is precious (really, they all need hugs...Ethan especially)</p><p>*chanting* HOLLOWAY HOLLOWAY HOLLOWAY HOLLOWAY</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like! I'd really like to hear your thoughts and theories regarding this fic and I'm so excited about where this is going!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!!! Please stay safe, healthy, and have a wonderful week!!!</p><p>My Tumblr:@ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. See My Heart and Decorate it Like a Grave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Miss Holloway gives them the skinny.</p><p>Alternatively: LORE</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well...this one ended up being a lot longer than originally planned, but the lore really worked out, so it was necessary. </p><p>The song for this chapter title comes from the song "Down in a Hole" by Alice in Chains.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of murder, attacks, execution, riots, Goat bastard, spider bitch...etc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Paul sighed as the guests at the wedding clapped loudly, excitement brimming throughout the room as 23 and Emma finished up their first dance with a loving kiss, the both of them beaming excitedly. The dance was mostly led by Emma over the course of the song, 23 just staring down at her like there was nothing else in the world that mattered, like she was the sole source of every smile he gave the world. He looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in his life...which was a sentiment Paul himself could share. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The hour was late, but he could tell that already the night was drawing to a close, as several guests, including Tom and Tim, had already taken it upon themselves to leave, as the young boy was extremely tired and fighting against sleep. Paul had watched as Tim hugged 23 and Emma excitedly calling them his Aunt and Uncle before tiredly loading up into Tom’s 1986 Foxbody Mustang and driving off, leaving the newlyweds with a lot of half-drunk adults.  </em>
</p><p><em> Paul wished he could have had </em>someone <em>to talk to. Someone who could see him and know the truth behind 23...but he wouldn’t do that. Not when it could ruin Emma’s happiness. He loved Emma too much to wreck any happiness she was feeling. He could never forgive himself for that. So, he just watched as 23 and Emma enjoyed their new marital bliss. </em></p><p>
  <em> After another dance ended, a somewhat upbeat but sweet and soft indie song that Emma loved, Paul watched as 23 and Emma retreated from the dance floor, the both of them smiling and laughing like teenagers at the senior prom, their hands linked together as they smiled at one another.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma squeezed 23’s hand as they pulled off to the side, Paul being forced to follow him as he was practically tethered to 23. She pushed up onto the balls of her feet to press a kiss to 23’s lips, cupping his face in her hands as she did. Paul could only feel his heart break more as they both blushed and laughed, looking like a bunch of lovestruck teenagers.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul hated the fact that he was being consumed by the wish that he’d had this for himself. The kind of love that Emma and 23 shared. The love that Paul hadn’t gotten the chance to build with Emma. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For a moment, Emma’s gaze was caught on something on the far side of the room and her face fell slightly, looking away and looking back up at 23 as if to lighten her spirits once more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 cupped her face, a small smile on his face, “What is it?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma sighed and looked down, “How the hell did he even get in?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who?” 23 asked, before following Emma’s gaze and a heavy sigh leaving him, “You mean Ted?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded, “We should have known he’d show up uninvited.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 nodded gravely, “We thought some kind of shame would keep him away, but we should have known he doesn’t have any of that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul followed the newlywed’s gaze to across the room, where a very drunk Ted was leaning up against a nearly-empty bottle of vodka, his eyes caught in a stare that seemed to go a thousand miles, almost as if he was caught in a trance of some kind staring off into the distance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” 23 began with uncertainty, “At least he’s not...bothering anyone?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At this, Emma let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head and making 23 whirl around with wide eyes, “I wish that were true, babe...but it’s Ted.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What did he do?” 23 asked, looking down at Emma with soft, mildly annoyed eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s your office’s horny bastard,” Emma deadpanned, “What do you think he did?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23’s eyes widened at the implication of Emma’s words and a look of vague disgust which emphasized everything that Paul himself felt at the idea crossed his face. 23 looked down with a heavy sigh, his hands going to Emma’s shoulders as he stepped closer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “He didn’t try anything more, did he?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma shrugged, “Just words...and I told him off the first time. He turned his attention to Charlotte not long after...but it still sucked.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed and kissed Emma’s forehead again, “I’m so sorry, Em.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, it’s fine,” Emma smiled gently up at him, “After getting yelled at by a stranger, it could have been a lot worse.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed again and looked down at her, the memory of the Homeless Man’s harsh...but apparently truthful words not being his favorite memory of the day. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Besides,” Emma went on, cupping 23’s cheek, “I just got married to you! I’m not gonna let that asshole ruin that for me. Him or the homeless guy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s harassment, Em,” 23 sighed, looking at Ted with an annoyed expression before turning to look down at Emma with soft eyes, “Do you want me to ask him to leave?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma’s eyes widened and she smiled at him, lifting herself up on her tiptoes to meet his lips again, “If you would, it would make this already perfect day even more wonderful.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Done,” 23 smiled, kissing her again, “I’ll go ahead and talk to him...seems like he’s already found a date with a drink though, so if he puts up a fight-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ll beat him up for you,” Emma smiled, grinning at him with a sly look in her eyes, “Look at you. God, I’m so glad I married you. Defending my honor like this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Anything for the best wife in the world,” 23 smiled down at her, nothing but love and sincerity in his eyes, “And for the record, I’m so glad I married you too.”</em>
  <em>
    <br/>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before 23 could walk away and confront Ted, Emma tugged on his long arm and pulled him down to meet her lips in a long passionate kiss, making Paul look away for a moment while he experienced the painfully familiar tug at his heart. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wished he could have the chance to tell Emma how much he loved her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just once more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though 23 had extinguished any chances of Paul having a future with Emma, the one he’d wanted for so long and dared to hope that he just might have a chance at it, he wished he could at the very least show Emma once more what she meant to him...even if it were only for a fleeting moment, and she loved 23...not him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nothing would ever change the fact that Paul loved Emma more than life itself. And though it killed him that she was in love with 23, he would do anything to ensure that her life was a happy one. Even if it meant that he would never get the chance to let her know...he could stand to watch the rest of Emma’s smiles pass him by, even if they weren’t at him. Even if he couldn’t, he had to. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma broke away from 23’s kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, bumping her forehead gently against his. She raised an eyebrow, a sultry look in her eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you say…” she whispered, looking 23 intently in the eyes, “You get rid of Ted...we mingle for another half hour, and then…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then?” 23 leaned in closer, clearly interested in what Emma was proposing as her hands slid down the lapels of his jacket. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then…” she murmured, her hands fiddling with his tie in a way that made 23 blush furiously, “We make good on that hotel reservation I made for us…” brushing her lips against </em>
  <em>23’s again in a way that made Paul tear his eyes away.</em>
</p><p><em>23 grinned and leaned in closer, “Make it twenty minutes and you’ve got yourself a deal, Mrs. Matthews.”</em><em><br/></em> <em>Emma nodded and grinned, pressing another quick kiss to 23’s lips, “Fifteen it is! Now get to kicking Ted out so I can start wrapping things up on the other front.”</em></p><p>
  <em> She gestured to the guests who were still chattering and dancing to the music.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sounds like a plan,” 23 grinned before laughing and pressing a kiss to Emma’s nose, “I love you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you too,” Emma smiled softly before slapping 23’s arm playfully, “Now let’s hop to it! I just got married, you see, and I don’t want to waste any time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Ma’am!” 23 nodded, breaking away from Emma, his hand still in hers as they slowly moved away from one another, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. Emma giggled as their hands finally broke free of one another, smiling and blushing as she turned and moved towards the DJ, starting the process of getting people out so the newlywed couple could enjoy their fresh marital bliss.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As she moved to go and mingle with Bill, Paul noticed the look of fondness that crossed 23’s face. It was a face that Paul himself wore when he realized he was lucky enough to date Emma Perkins. It was a face he’d wanted to wear for the rest of his life. Before everything had gone wrong. </em>
</p><p><em> When 23 finally turned and his eyes settled on Ted, he sighed heavily, as if he realized the task that it was to get a </em> very <em>drunk Ted Spankoffski out of somewhere. Once it had taken two hours for Paul and Bill to haul Ted’s inebriated ass out of the Birdhouse because he’d had too much.  </em></p><p>
  <em> With a sigh, 23 dug his iPhone out of his pocket and started the process of what Paul assumed was calling the drunk Ted a car.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Yeah?” 23 spoke into his phone, “Hi...yes, could I please get a car to come pick up a friend of mine from my wedding reception, please? Oh, thank you...yes, I’m </em>very <em>happy…” With those words, 23’s eyes trailed back over to Emma with a soft smile before snapping back into the game, “Yes...I’m afraid a coworker of mine got too acquainted with some Smirnoff...thank you...yes, of course...that’s the Hatchetfield National History Museum...yeah, we’re in the planetarium...Thank you so much!” </em></p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed as he put his phone back in his pocket before sauntering up to Ted, who was leaning, almost drooling, against the mostly empty bottle of vodka. Though he looked like he was asleep, Paul immediately took note of the fact that Ted’s eyelids were twitching a great deal, and his brows were furrowed, as if in distress. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The man was murmuring something under his breath...something Paul couldn’t quite hear, even as 23 leaned in with a small sigh to try and get the man up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey…” 23 whispered, shaking Ted’s shoulder gently, “Hey, Ted” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The man’s hazel eyes flew open quickly as if waking up from a nightmare, “Christ!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted snapped up quickly, spilling some of the remaining vodka in the bottle. The clear fluid poured down his shirt, narrowly missing 23’s suit. His eyes darted around as if he were looking for something or someone, making Paul lean in as 23 tried to help Ted normalize.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Would you…” 23 began, tugging the bottle loose from Ted’s grip before he could spill it more, grimacing as he looked down at the bottle and set it aside, the scent of the alcohol becoming more present, “Would you lay off the booze, buddy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted’s eyes darted around before settling on 23, looking very confused, “Paul?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed as he grabbed a towel from the other side of the bar and threw it in Ted’s direction, taking another to the wood of the bar, cleaning it up before any damage could be done. Paul, however, could only watch as Ted shook and how his eyes surveyed the area, settling on the various people, the decorations 23 and Emma had picked out, looking almost as if he’d seen a ghost.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wha-what…” Ted stammered, his eyes darting around, “What happened to Jenny, Paul?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed again and put a hand on Ted’s shoulder, knowing that the man was drunk out of his wits. Besides, Ted had never mentioned a Jenny before Paul had been replaced. But something about Ted’s eyes...Paul couldn’t understand it...but it was there...and whatever it was...it was true. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey...I got a favor to ask,” 23 began, starting to go off on some tirade that he’d very obviously spent a little bit of time developing in order to convince Ted to leave. Some stupid lie about weekly reports not getting in on time, all the while Ted’s eyes continued to dart around, the man shaking like a leaf- and in a way that didn’t look like the effects of all the Smirnoff, he’d very obviously downed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> However, as Ted’s eyes continued to dart around the reception hall, only haphazardly listening to 23’s attempt at an excuse before… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wait...what? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was impossible.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This had never happened before with anybody. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not even Emma. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted was looking directly at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the two men stared at each other, 23 ignorant to it, Paul found himself unable to find words. No mistake that Ted was looking at him. The amount of vodka left in the bottle indicated that Ted likely couldn’t see anything two feet in front of him.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Suddenly, Paul was filled with a sense of familiarity. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something warm and distant that he wanted so desperately to grapple onto.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something that had everything to do with Ted and nothing. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> An attack. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Pain and worry being the only thing he felt as he held the hand of the person he loved more than anything else in the world. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> The worry slowly changed to a strange sense of joy. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> A heartbeat. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Two heartbeats. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> A smile that made his heart sing. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> The woman who wore it. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Happiness and hope. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Warmth and light. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Home. </strike>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Emma.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <strike> Then fear again.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Another attack. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Pain.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> A coldness. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something that washed over him as pain, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, claimed him. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He was trying to protect somebody...or was it more than one person? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> But it hadn’t mattered. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Ted had seen to that...only, it wasn’t his fault… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> There was nobody to blame for this… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Except for the Lords in Black. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> What was he doing here? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Panic seized his heart. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He wasn’t supposed to be here. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He needed to get home.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> But where was his home? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> No...home wasn’t a place. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> It was with her. </strike>
</p><p>Home was with Emma.</p><p>
  <strike> He needed to get home to- </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “And...you’re making some people uncomfortable,” 23 went on, not impolitely, snapping Paul out of his daze before getting to the real crux of his excuse, “Including Emma...So, could you be a pal?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted finally snapped out of his daze, no longer staring at the wall behind Paul.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fine.” he muttered, his voice slurred and harsh, as he stood, taking the mostly empty bottle in a sloppy fist, “I know when I’m not wanted.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Really? That’s news to me.”23 muttered under his breath as Ted stood, brushing himself off. As Ted fumbled for his own car keys in his pocket, 23 held out a hand and offered Ted a haphazard smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I called you a car,” 23 offered, smiling at the drunk man in front of him, gesturing somewhat to the door. Honestly, after Ted had attempted to seduce Emma earlier on in the night, Paul couldn’t find it in his heart to blame 23 for his passive aggression, “Thanks...for coming, Ted.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted merely huffed and stormed off, stepping out of the foyer to wait for the car, both Paul and 23 watching him go.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed with a somewhat guilty expression on his face as he watched Ted close the door, but smile softer as he turned to see Emma standing across the room, still talking with Bill and his new girlfriend Sylvia from the top floor, laughing and smiling. As they watched Emma smile, Paul felt himself smile too. Just seeing Emma smile gave him so much life even though he was dead...which made it even more painful when Paul found himself being dragged over, following 23 by their invisible tether, to go stand with them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fifteen minutes passed, the bouquet was tossed, the rest of the leftovers packed away as the museum staff and Hidgens sought to clean everything up, allowing 23 and Emma to take their leave. Bill, Hidgens, Sylvia, and a few others remaining behind to wave the happy couple off, cheering and clapping as they prepared to drive off into the lovely night, all of the stars burning brighter than Paul was certain he’d ever seen them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul soon found himself in the backseat of what was once his and Emma’s car as 23 started it, both him and Emma smiling at one another with so much excitement as they drove off.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Where to now, Mrs. Matthews?” 23 smiled, looking like he was at his happiest as he steered them away from the museum.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma merely lifted 23’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckle, holding on to his hand like she never wanted to let go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The rest of our lives, my love.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And with a sickening lurch in his stomach, Paul knew he would be dragged along to see it through. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: May</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>Xander sighed and rubbed at his temples, this new development was something difficult for him to wrap his head around. At first, it had seemed like this was going to be one of the days when the world would have its usual rinse and repeat routine in which he would be cooped up in his own lab, trying to research whatever samples that Emma and Hidgens sent him, even though cellular biology and microbiology wasn’t necessarily his specialty, any help that he could offer was appreciated, especially when it came to saving the lives of these people. And then John hadn’t come for lunch or dinner, so he’d taken a sandwich down to him, and suddenly epiphanies and potential breakthroughs continued to flow like a river. </p><p>He glanced at the strange woman who’d shown up in front of John’s office, looking like she’d stepped out of an eighties sitcom. She’d only told them to call her Holloway or Miss Holloway, and she’d seemingly already known their names, but there was something about the woman that didn’t seem right. She’d told them her story, or <em> what </em>exactly she was, but part of him didn’t believe it. In fact, if he wasn’t living in the middle of an apocalypse, he would have declared that everything she claimed to be true was impossible. That everything they’d been faced with was a hoax in some way or another.</p><p>Still...he could find no reason to believe it to be fake, and judging from the way the woman was staring them all down like she understood everything about them without even needing to be told, he found himself believing.</p><p>She turned to John, clearly not wasting time, “Where are the others?”</p><p>John sighed and rubbed at his temples, clearly tired from all that she’d already told them, “They’re on their way.”</p><p>“Good,” she nodded, “We’ll need all of them to completely understand what’s happening to your victims.”</p><p>From where she was standing, Emma made a scoffing noise, “I’m sorry...I’m very confused.”</p><p>Hidgens nodded and raised his hand, “I...as am I.”</p><p>“Patience,” the woman who referred to herself as Miss Holloway spoke, holding up a hand, “I’m going to wait until the whole class is here to-”</p><p>“What is it, John!?”</p><p>They turned to see a very disheveled Ethan running into the quarantine bay, his eyes red and puffy, as if he’d either been crying or not gotten a night of sleep since the collapses had happened. Still, he ran in very eagerly, as if he was almost possessed by fear or excitement, hoping that they might have some news to give to them.</p><p>“Are they okay?” he asked, his voice slightly garbled as he ran, “Have we found something…”</p><p>He slowed as his eyes fell on Holloway, who looked at him with a strange expression.</p><p>“Who’s this?” he asked, before looking over his shoulder, a small flash of disheartenment across his eyes when he saw that Hannah and Lex were still in their beds, both of them looking as if they might be asleep.</p><p>Holloway stepped forward, holding out her hand, a few plastic bangles dangling from out of her denim jacket, extending a hand towards Ethan with a warm smile, “My name is Miss Holloway…”</p><p>“Oh,” Ethan nodded, looking as if the name meant nothing to him but was trying to remain polite, “I’m-”</p><p>“Ethan Green,” Miss Holloway nodded, smiling, “Yes...I know. You’re the protector of the one who summoned me, and the beloved of her older sister.”</p><p>Ethan’s eyes widened as they traced over to where Lex and Hannah remained, “Lexi and Hannah?”</p><p>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “I’m sorry if it’s aggravating...but I cannot waste any time. As soon as the others arrive, we can get down to business.”</p><p>Ethan raised an eyebrow, “Others?”</p><p>As if on cue, the doors to the quarantine bay swung open, and in walked Becky, holding a very tired Tim’s hand. The little boy rubbed at his eyes as Becky guided him towards where the others were standing, a somewhat aggravated look in the usually amicable nurse’s eyes.</p><p>“What’s all this about?” she asked John as she moved forward, “It’s the middle of the night.”</p><p>“I know,” John sighed apologetically, “I’m sorry, but this couldn’t wait.”</p><p>Becky nodded in the direction of Miss Holloway, her eyes scanning with uncertainty over the new woman, “Who’s she?”</p><p>“Let’s save the introductions until the final one has arrived,” Holloway spoke clearly, Becky’s attempt at subtlety failing as the new woman smiled at her and Tim, “Although, it is nice to meet you, Becky Barnes and Tim Houston.”</p><p>Tim looked bewildered, “She knows our names?”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded sagely, “I promise that everything will be explained as soon as Alice Woodward arrives,  but all you need to know is that I come as a friend and as someone who can help those who matter most to you.”</p><p>“Really?” Becky’s eyes widened as she looked to Xander as if looking for confirmation, “Is this true?”</p><p>Xander nodded, “As impossible as it seems, I believe this woman is really here to help us all...and may be the key to saving them.”</p><p>“How?” Tim asked, his eyes, both blind and not, were filled with skepticism but also the  desperation to save his father, “How can you save them?”</p><p>“You’ll have to wait until-” Holloway didn’t get to finish her sentence as the doors to the quarantine opened and a meek and exhausted Alice sauntered in, “Alice Woodward…”</p><p>The girl looked up, her eyes very pointedly staying away from her father’s bed as she looked at the new woman, “Yes...that’s me.”</p><p>Holloway nodded, “Good...now we can begin. If you’ll join us over here, Miss Woodward there is little time to waste.”</p><p>Slowly, Alice’s eyes traced over to Xander, as if looking for some assurance that some strange woman who looked like she was from a rerun of <em> Full House </em>was safe to listen to. Xander nodded, giving the girl a small smile, and watched as she slowly made her way over to them. </p><p>Miss Holloway smiled and nodded, “Alright...now that we are all here, allow me to introduce myself.” She turned to the newcomers, “As I’ve already informed some of you, my name is Miss Holloway. You can just call me Holloway if you would like, but I’ve been summoned by Hannah Foster to help you save them.”</p><p>For a moment everyone seemed to blink at the sudden stream of information that the woman had given them before Ethan broke the silence. </p><p>“I’m sorry…” the teen spoke, “But what?”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “I understand that’s a whole lot of information to take in...but it’s true.”</p><p>“You were summoned?” Alice whispered, her eyes wide with something that was a cross between skepticism and disbelief.</p><p>“That’s right,” the woman nodded.</p><p>“By…” Becky murmured, unbelieving of what she was hearing, “By Hannah?”</p><p>“I know it seems implausible…” Holloway continued, keeping calm.</p><p>“I don’t know what that means,” Ethan muttered begrudgingly, “But hell yeah it does.”</p><p>“But if you’ll allow me to explain to you what I’ve already told General McNamara and Major Lee,” The woman continued, her voice steadfast in spite of everyone’s clear and present doubts, “I promise things will begin to make more sense.”</p><p>Everyone seemed to look to either John or Xander for affirmation. As if they needed some kind of confirmation that the woman was a valid source. </p><p>“I know it’s strange,” John spoke up, addressing the clear doubt which seemed to cover the room like a fog, “But if you’ll listen to this woman, I assure you that what she has to offer us is of use...and maybe the only road to figuring out how to save them.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Miss Holloway nodded, smiling gratefully at John before pacing the room, not shaken by the fact that everyone's eyes were on her. </p><p>In some ways, there was something that was...entrancing and unearthly about the woman. Xander couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but given what little facts the woman had given him and John about himself he was pretty sure she’d been like this her whole life. Of course, the whole woman’s appearance was a bit of a shock, seeing as she looked like a woman out of time, but there was something else...something...<em> different </em>about her. </p><p>“First and foremost,” Miss Holloway spoke, her voice alluring and simple, almost like a familiar lullaby whose lyrics nobody could remember fully, “I feel like I should inform you all that I am not a real person. In fact, I am dead.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh...and then there was that. </em>
</p><p>Ethan made a noise that sounded like a cross between a strangled noise and a scoff, “I’m sorry...what?”</p><p>“What? Is that so hard to believe?” Miss Holloway challenged the teen, “You’ve been dead before, haven’t you?”</p><p>Ethan looked like he was about to argue, but he merely conceded with a sigh, “Fair point...but how are you...still dead?”</p><p>“Now, you see...that’s the fun part,” Miss Holloway nodded, “You see...I was alive. I was a real person... in every single one of the previous resets-”</p><p>“Wait,” Ethan cut in, “You know about the resets?”</p><p>“Yes,” the woman responded, looking only slightly annoyed at the interruption, “In every reset, I find myself at battle with him. Half of the time I win and leave the Lords in Black without an emissary…”</p><p>“Wait,” Becky cut in, “Him? You mean Wilbur Cross when you say ‘emissary’?”</p><p>“Yes,” Holloway nodded, “In every reset, I have to fight him...half of the time I win...and the other half he winds up killing me and ends up taking my jacket. As it turned out...this is what happened this time. And even though my apparition form has a jacket it’s not <em>my </em>jacket, son of a bitch.”<br/>Though the comment was random, it appeared that the woman was very pissed off about their former mentor taking her jacket.</p><p>She sighed, “I digress...The point is, the emissary of the Lords in Black killed me in this reset, banishing me to a place beyond the Black and White...until Hannah Foster summoned me earlier today.”</p><p>“See,” John interjected, “That’s what I don’t understand. How did Hannah summon you?”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed and shook her head, “You still don’t understand, do you?”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as the woman turned and started to pace around the room looking at Hannah.</p><p>“Four people in this room,” Miss Holloway held up four fingers to punctuate the statement, “...have the blood of the first human witch of the Lords in Black flowing through their veins.”</p><p>The woman turned to Emma, who was standing a little closer to Paul’s bed, an uneasy look in her eyes, “One of them is over there...Paul Matthews, I’m assuming?”</p><p>Emma cast a small glance back at Paul before nodding, “Yeah.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded respectfully, “And I’m assuming that your child is also his?”</p><p>Emma sighed and nodded, her hand going to her stomach, “Yep.”</p><p>Holloway raised an eyebrow for a moment, looking Emma up and down before turning and gesturing to the Foster girls, “While two are from Rose Matthaeus’ branch of the Muckwab lineage, the other two are from Theresa Foster’s branch of the Muckwab bloodline. That’s four people with the blood of the first human witch...the bloodline is more powerful than anyone understands.”</p><p>“Wait…” Xander spoke up, his eyes going to Emma again, looking at the suppressed terror on the woman’s face, all of it being held beneath her usual icy facade, “What does that mean for Paul and Emma’s baby?”<br/>She sighed and shook her head, annoyed by their getting off-topic“I don’t know...but right now your primary focus should be on Hannah.”</p><p>Everyone turned to look at the little girl, her bed beside her sister’s, her hair freshly braided since Ethan had come in and braided it earlier in the day.</p><p>“Since birth,” Miss Holloway went on, “Hannah Foster has been extremely sensitive to the Black and White. She probably doesn’t even know the extent to which her power goes. When she made the choice to go into Nightmare Time, specifically after her older sister, she used a spell similar to necromancy.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ethan stammered, “But <em> why? </em> Why would she summon you? I mean...we know that Banana’s a powerful person...but why would she summon you?”</p><p>“Because,” Miss Holloway began calmly, turning to face the very confused teenager, “Like Willabella Muckwab once was, I too...am a witch.”</p><p>There was a long moment of silence as people contemplated the woman’s words before she went on.</p><p>“Albeit, a dead one,” she said nonchalantly, “But a powerful witch nonetheless.”</p><p>“A witch?” Alice asked, her eyes wide.</p><p>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “I’m not a descendant of Willabella Muckwab, but I do know the ways of the Black and White...and I am powerful adversary of the Lords in Black, which is why they like to send Wilbur Cross to kill me every reset. When Hannah decided to follow her sister into Nightmare Time, her powers were enough to send back a tangible apparition of myself into this world to help you.”</p><p>“Help us how?” Hidgens asked, his eyes wide, “What can you offer us?”</p><p>The woman smiled, “You need a way to see their minds...don’t you? You want to know what is happening inside of their heads at this very moment...what kind of threat that this Nightmare Time poses to each of them. Am I correct?” </p><p>Hidgens nodded slowly, “It could help.”</p><p>“It will,” the woman spoke assuredly, “Because you have several means to get them out...you just need proper timing and the means to access it. We can save them...but to do so, you’d need to understand everything about what’s happened to you over these past few months.”</p><p>Xander raised an eyebrow,  “Explain.”</p><p>“The whole thing?” Miss Holloway asked, “Because so far, you seem relatively confused.”</p><p>John and Xander exchanged glances and nodded, “The whole thing.”</p><p>“Okay,” Miss Holloway sighed, “You all might want to find a seat...this might take a while.”</p><p>As everyone found a seat, the woman started to walk around in a circle, her eyes tracing around the room. Though her lips were moving, no sound was made.</p><p>Suddenly, she held out her hand and a burst of green and white light emerged from her palm, making everybody lean back. </p><p>“What the hell is that?!?!”Alice exclaimed, her eyes wide as she stared at the woman’s hand. </p><p>“A projection spell,” Miss Holloway deadpanned, moving one of her hands to circle around the one holding the light in an intricate movement, “If I had my candle, it would be easier...but since I can’t necessarily hold solid objects for a long time, this is the best way for a visual aid.”</p><p>“A visual aid?” Xander asked, watching in awe of the woman’s hand motions, and the light emerging from her palm. He’d seen many impossible things in his lifetime, but the fact that this woman was seemingly <em>bending light </em>was astonishing. He was fairly certain that if he was given an hour of observing Miss Holloway work with it, he’d probably find a scientific reason behind all of it, but all he could have at that moment was amazement as the woman bent the light to her will. With a wave of her hand, however, the ball of light immediately went to the center of the makeshift circle they formed and suddenly molded itself to form the silhouette of what Xander assumed was supposed to be a young girl in a long dress.</p><p>“Willabella Muckwab,” Miss Holloway began, “Was orphaned at age ten, and remained on her own for two years. Little is known about her family, but as a young child, she liked to wander the Witchwoods...in fact, she spent most of her time in the forest as a girl. Most people in the small establishment of what was called Cornwallis at the time…”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Ethan cut in with a snicker, “Hatchetfield was called <em> Cornwallis </em> at the time?”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, waving it off nonchalantly, “Some settlers from Oregon came up with the name...but, obviously it wasn’t permanent. Some other settlers wanted to call it Duck Haven.”</p><p>“Thank God it’s not called that,” Alice muttered, “Clivesdale would get an even bigger head than they’ve already got.”</p><p>“Anyway,” Miss Holloway went on, “Because of the amount of time that Willabella spent in the Witchwoods, she was exposed to the energies of the Black and White more often than people should. It certainly didn’t help that her family was stigmatized by the community before their deaths.”</p><p>“So…” John mused, “Such exposure to the Black and White led her to become a witch?”</p><p>“Think about it,” Miss Holloway suggested, pacing around in a circle, all of their attention on her as she went on,  “You’re a little girl...alone. You spend most of your time in one of the most Black and White sensitive areas on the earth because you are alone and nobody is willing to take you in- save for a local blacksmith, whose help she didn’t want to accept- and you’re approached by a powerful woman...a Lady in White, as some would say.”</p><p>“Webby…” Ethan murmured.</p><p>“That’s her nickname,” Miss Holloway nodded, “But her ancient name is Web’insa as I’m sure Hannah has already told you. To put it simply, Webby found the little girl and offered her the chance to never be alone and power beyond the girl’s wildest dreams. And to an orphaned child...with absolutely nothing, that was everything. She became Webby’s first human witch, growing in power at the whim of the Lords in Black. Their most devoted disciple.”</p><p>Holloway shook her head, as the image of a girl matured into a young woman, surrounded by images and symbols which Xander could have only guessed meant the power of the Black and White, the colors looking like something out of a kaleidoscope as the image of the woman, once covered in white light looked like shades of black and silver dust, “She was powerful...and everyone knew it...but they chose to live in ignorance. Even as she gathered more people to her side, pulling people to worship and serve the will of the Lords in Black, the people were determined that she was merely a young girl driven mad by the loss of her parents...and the people who followed her were lost heretics. Only one family believed their true threat, and sought to find proof behind it.”</p><p>“One family?” Xander asked, watching as the image slowly became molded to reveal the figures of what might have been a small family, with two little girls between the parents.</p><p>“Yes,” Holloway nodded.</p><p> </p><p> “The clan of Perkins.”</p><p> </p><p>Emma’s eyes widened, “Perkins?”</p><p>The woman smiled knowingly and nodded, “Yes.”</p><p>Xander’s mind was racing. </p><p>Emma’s family was somehow mixed up in all of this as well?</p><p>Miss Holloway turned to Emma, a strange look in her eyes, “You had a sister, didn’t you? One that died not too long ago?”</p><p>Emma nodded and Tim spoke up, “Yes...that was my mom.”</p><p>Miss Holloway’s face softened as she turned to the little boy, “And you’re both a Perkins and a Houston, then?”</p><p>Tim nodded and the Witch whistled lowly.</p><p>“What?” Emma spat, not unkindly as the redhead shook her head and paced around the room. </p><p>“You have some potentially powerful bloodlines on your hands, then,” Miss Holloway muttered, “It’s a mercy, I suppose that young Tim isn’t sensitive to the Black and White like his Great Aunt Cynthia was...but then again, who knows? Hannah, Lex, and Paul all have the blood of the Witch. Tim has the blood of the Perkins <em>and </em>Houstons. Emma and Paul’s baby has the blood of the Witch and the Perkins...don’t you think it’s interesting that all of these bloodlines would wind up in the same place?”</p><p>When nobody answered, Holloway smiled and turned to the image of the family to the side, the two little girls growing into young women. </p><p>“The Perkins clan had two daughters, who were born when Willabella was between the ages of twenty and twenty-three. While their names are unknown, there is reason to believe that they knew the ways of the Black and White without being sensitive to it,” Holloway explained, “They knew the threat was legitimate, but they took their time to act upon it. By the time Willabella Muckwab reached the age of twenty-seven, she had a daughter of her own, Cassandra Marshman, that she hid away with a Blacksmith’s family...but she didn’t bother trying to raise the daughter because the cause was too great. As the years went on, however, the two Perkins sisters did their best to learn what they could about the forces Willabella Muckwab was sworn to...when they came across a book of hers.”</p><p>“A book?” John raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “It was a book of spells, burial rituals, everything that Willabella learned under the influence of the Black and White, as well as a black stone knife. They had no idea what it was that she used these objects for, but they stole them from the witch’s hut. Most people believed that the Perkins sisters were just as delusional as the woman who was leading a whole segment of people who believed in the Lords in Black, but they knew there was more than just Witchcraft at play.”</p><p>“Did they find anything in the book to teach them about those that Willabella and her disciples followed?” Xander asked, “The Lords in Black?”</p><p>“As a matter of fact,” Miss Holloway nodded gravely, “They did. Upon learning their ancient names, the two Perkins sisters learned that the woman was more than just a Witch. She was a servant of six of the most powerful monsters in the universe.”</p><p>“Where did they come from?” Alice asked, “These monsters?”</p><p>“They were born from the Black and White itself,” Miss Holloway muttered evenly, her hand waving to form six forms of different colors. The first was a white spider-like symbol, which, with a sickening pang in his stomach, Xander realized could have only represented Webby. The second was a light blue symbol that resembled a woman, decked in blue starlight and symbols which looked like music notes, which could have meant Apatha. The third was a light green multi-tendriled serpent-like symbol which could have symbolized Wiggly.  The fourth, an eye made of yellow and purple light for the one they called Blinky. A bright, bubblegum pink smile for the one they figured was nicknamed Nibbly. Finally, there was a golden cubic-like structure, with the face of a goat carved into the side to represent Tinky...the one that had been tormenting Ted since January. Miss Holloway sighed and looked up as she went on, “Six children of darkness and chaos, all of them preprogrammed with the single desire to devour whatever world the Black and White gave them access to. Web’insa, Pokotho Apatha, Wiggog Y’Wrath, Bliklotep, Nibblenephim, and T’Noy Karaxis. The children of darkness and death.”</p><p>“They all found a favorite in Willabella,” Miss Holloway went on, “And once the Perkins sisters realized how much power the woman’s side had, they knew it was only a matter of time before something happened, and their case could be made to bring them down. They had to wait, though, watching their movements...you see, the people of Cornwallis didn’t believe in witchcraft...until 1824.”</p><p>“What happened in 1824?” Ethan asked, his blue eyes wide as if he were a little kid being told a ghost story at a campfire. </p><p>Xander remembered reading up on Willabella Muckwab, all of those months ago when they’d found out that Paul was related to Lex and Hannah. More importantly, he remembered what had happened to lead to the woman’s execution. </p><p>“The General Store incident,” He murmured under his breath, looking up as Miss Holloway nodded in confirmation.</p><p>“Yes,” she whispered, before waving her hand and causing the illusion to shift. As the illusion changed the silhouette of what looked like a strange, green necklace formed in the hands of the woman Willabella Muckwab had become, “Growing impatient with their efforts, Wiggog Y’Wrath, the being of Chaos, gave the witch a charm. A charm that would serve as a means for them to bring Hatchetfield to their knees faster, hoping to gain the most support in contrast with his siblings. The charm was enchanted to foster violence and chaos, as well as a fanatical devotion to Wiggly and Wiggly alone, as opposed to the Lords in Black.”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed and shook her head as the image faded and shadow-like figures began to grapple and fight for the charm, “The Perkins sisters watched as Willabella brought the charm to the local general store, and almost instantly...carnage began. Several people died in hopes that they would receive the charm for themselves, ruthlessly killing one another with hopes of possessing it. The death and destruction would have been far worse, had not the two sisters stepped forward and destroyed it, using the very knife that they’d taken from Willabella’s hut.”</p><p>The image shifted again and the two sisters were shown fighting until finally, the shorter of the two wielded a knife and stabbed it into the green charm, instantly shattering it</p><p>“Once the charm was destroyed,” Miss Hollway went on, “The people were freed from their trance and finally saw Willabella for what she was; a witch. She was arrested on the spot.”</p><p>The shadow images gathered around the form of Willabella, accusatory fingers pointed at her. </p><p>“But,” Miss Holloway spoke gravely, “The older of the two Perkins sisters was mortally wounded, and was dying in the arms of her sister.”</p><p>The image shifted again, and the two sisters were cradling one another, a crimson light pouring from where the heart of the taller of the two would have been. </p><p>“Willabella was being taken away as the elder was dying,” Miss Holloway explained, “And to get revenge for what they’d done to condemn her, she cursed them both.”</p><p>“Cursed?” Tim raised an eyebrow, his voice shaky, “W-what did she curse them with?”</p><p>Holloway sighed once more and she swung her pinky finger in what might have been a sign language letter j. The image shifted once more, and the bodies of the two sisters suddenly appeared to melt into what looked like an infinity symbol. </p><p>“The curse was one that had never been done before,” Miss Holloway explained with a grave face, “And ultimately one that would tear both Hatchetfield and the Lords in Black apart. Turning it into something of an anomaly amongst other realities.”</p><p>She sighed, “She cursed the Perkins sisters that forever, their deaths would mark the beginning and the end. Hatchetfield would never move on in the march of time as they would forever be trapped in an endless cycle of death. One would die forever, while the other would live. However, Willabella was executed, the elder sister buried...and the younger went on with her life, eventually carrying on the Perkins bloodline and dying at an old age.”</p><p>“Because both sisters died,” Miss Holloway went on, “It was believed that Willabella’s alleged curse had no merit. That there was no real power she had...but little did they know that Willabella’s curse had become the very thing to doom Hatchetfield for several lifetimes. Something about the curse tore the Lords in Black apart...severing them amongst one another. Web’insa, Wiggog Y’Wrath, and Pokotho Apatha would be able to look into Hatchetfield and remain there, alongside some minor demons of the Black and White who sought to claim it for themselves...much like the thing that had possessed Henry Hidgens’ body when he entered the Black and White in 1976.”</p><p>They all looked at Hidgens, who shifted uncomfortably at the notion. </p><p>Miss Holloway went on, “The other three...Bliklotep, T’Noy Karaxis, and Nibblenephim were tossed about, the others unable to find them. Something about Willabella’s curse forced them apart, and even worse...forced Webby to try and find a way to reclaim them...but it wasn’t until recently that people realized that Willabella’s motive behind the curse actually had been effective.”</p><p>Everyone froze, looking amongst one another.</p><p>“You see,” Miss Holloway went on, “When the Perkins sisters of the past died, the world continued in time...and the Perkins bloodline never saw a generation of just two sisters…” she turned to look at Emma, “Until the births of Jane and Emma Perkins.”</p><p>Emma’s eyes widened, “So you mean…”</p><p>“You ever wonder why yours and Jane’s deaths until recently were the bookends of the resets?” Miss Holloway murmured, “You and Jane were both the victims of Willabella Muckwab’s curse, almost two hundred years after she had cast it.”</p><p>Emma looked down, several layers of pain and sorrow swirling underneath the facade of strength that she kept up for everyone.</p><p>Her voice was low when she spoke, “Why? Why us?”</p><p>“It’s like I said,” Miss Holloway spoke sadly, looking at the still swirling, crimson-colored infinity sign, “Willabella wanted revenge. She couldn’t have known that the curse wouldn’t take effect until you two came along...but she promised to make two Perkins sisters suffer. I believe that the elder Perkins sister perished in 1824 before the curse was completed, so the curse didn’t come to pass until you and Jane.”</p><p>Emma’s eyes were filled with fury, “And Jane got the shorter end of the straw? She was chosen to die while I live?”</p><p>Miss Holloway said nothing, looking down.</p><p>Emma sighed and laughed bitterly, so much pain in her eyes at the idea, “But the reset didn’t happen when I died a few months back...so what happened?”</p><p> “That’s easy,” Miss Holloway sighed, “The siblings were reunited through Webby’s efforts. The rules changed again...meaning your death would no longer have an effect on the timeline. Then again, Paul pulled you back from death, but if you were to die you would have likely suffered the same fate as Jane did.”</p><p>“S-Suffered?”</p><p>Everyone turned to see Tim staring up at the woman with big eyes, tears filling them both.</p><p>“M-My mom…” Tim murmured, tears dripping down his face, “Sh-she suffered?”</p><p>Miss Holloway knelt before the little boy and nodded, “I’m afraid so...but thanks to your Aunt and Uncle, she’s safe now...and from what I know about your mom, she’s one tough woman, huh?”</p><p>Tim nodded, “Sh-she’s okay?”</p><p>“Mm-Hmm…” Miss Holloway nodded with a small smile, “If there was ever anyone who gave the Lords in Black a run for their money while in Nightmare Time, it was Jane Perkins.”</p><p>Hidgens chuckled lightly, “You can say that again.”</p><p>“Speaking of,” Miss Holloway went on, “When the curse was changed and the rules of the resets were changed...you were all separated, correct?”</p><p>Everyone sighed and nodded, all of them shifting uncomfortably at the memory of those months of darkness and pain. Worrying that any one of them would die at any second...or that they’d starve to death before they even got a shot at getting out. </p><p>“It was the work of one of our own,” John murmured mournfully, “June Schaeffer had a power play and it nearly killed the whole lot of us. It actually briefly killed Emma.”</p><p>Miss Holloway raised an eyebrow, “June...Schaeffer, huh?”</p><p>At John’s slow nod, the woman made a face, almost as if she was deep in thought. For a moment, it looked as if she was staring at the wall behind a rather nervous-looking Henry Hidgens. Her eyes were focused, almost as if she were putting a puzzle that nobody else could see before she snapped out of her daze and turned to them.</p><p>“Once all of that had passed and you were all returned to one another,” she turned to them, continuing on as if nothing had happened at all, “You had another incident on your hands, yes?”</p><p>Xander nodded, “Yes...the portal was activated. We think Ted Spankoffski…” he gestured to the man a few beds away from him, “Was possessed by a Lord in Black-”</p><p>“Tinky,” Miss Holloway hummed knowingly, “He made Ted his Bastard.”</p><p>Xander nodded at the memory of Hannah’s harrowing words concerning the man.</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “I’d imagine Ted was given the box long before you all managed to escape the caves while Tinky just bided his time...he was found at the portal with Lex, wasn’t he?”</p><p>“Yes,” John nodded, “Catatonic...for a moment his eyes were-”</p><p>“Yellow and Blue?” Miss Holloway asked, looking like she already knew the unpleasant end to a story she’d heard a million times before.</p><p>John nodded again, “Have you seen anything like it?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, looking down, “Tinky’s Bastard Box is one of the most powerful objects that the Lords in Black possess. It’s an instrument of torment, which breaks the mind of the person using it.”</p><p>She looked at Emma, whose hand had protectively landed on her stomach. Judging from the barely-concealed terror on Emma’s face, Xander could tell the woman was thinking about what had happened to her just before she and Paul found out about the baby. Evidently, Miss Holloway was thinking about it too as her eyes turned soft.</p><p>“He attacked you, didn’t he?” Miss Holloway whispered, her eyes filled with something that wasn’t entirely pity, “Just before you found out about your baby…He attacked you and you don’t understand why.”</p><p>Emma looked down and shook her head, “He was saying something...about how I killed him…” she chuckled bitterly, tears forming in her eyes, “It sounds so stupid...but judging from the way he went about it, he <em> believed </em>it.”</p><p>She nodded, “And he was catatonic once more until he attacked them all with Webby’s venom, right?”</p><p>Hidgens nodded and gave her the answer, “Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Miss Holloway paced around, “It’s obvious that Webby’s playing a very intricate and intentional game with all of you...but until you know what’s going on inside the heads of each of these people, you cannot understand what.”</p><p>“And you can help us find out what they’re experiencing?” Hidgens asked, leaning forward with wide eyes “You can tell us what’s happening inside their heads?”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, “I can. Hannah summoned me for that reason.”</p><p>“Then what are you waiting for?!” Alice demanded, desperation in her voice, “Do it! Help them!”</p><p>“It’s not that simple,” Miss Holloway sighed again.</p><p>“It never is,” Emma murmured bitterly under her breath as Miss Holloway continued. </p><p>“To peer into Nightmare Time is to peer into a dimension of death,” she said gravely, “I will be looking into their worst nightmares and interpreting them as best as I can… but sometimes that means seeing what you don’t want to see...are you prepared for that?”</p><p>Alice nodded vehemently before anyone else could respond, “Whatever it is, we’ll do it. We just want them safe and home again...”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as the teen’s words as if everyone was coming to a collective realization of how true they were. As if they all knew they were willing to make whatever sacrifice was needed to save the people who mattered most to them. It was almost as if making a choice of that nature was becoming second nature to these people. That they’d make choices like this in any case at all. No matter the cost, they’d do anything and everything to make sure their loved ones came home safely.</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded in understanding, “Alright then…”</p><p>She turned to look at Lucy, who remained still and close to the doorway, “Let’s start with her.”</p><p>With a wave of her hand, the floating, glowing illusion dissipated and she walked through the fading dust-like illusion towards Lucy. Gently and gracefully, she pulled back the curtain and stepped into the English Duchess’ chamber, while the rest of the group piled around the curtained-off area, watching with inquisitive and vaguely frightened eyes. </p><p>Gracefully, Miss Holloway lifted a finger and gently extricated Lucy’s left hand from where it was folded over her right on her lower torso.</p><p>“This is young Lucy Stockworth?” Miss Holloway looked up at John and Xander for confirmation, “Correct?”</p><p>“Yes,” John nodded, “We met her when we were still in the caves. She befriended the Hatchetfield Ape-Man and-”</p><p>“Ah, Chumby,” Miss Holloway nodded with a warm smile, “There’s a cryptid I’ve not seen since nineteen eighty. Makes sense that someone like Lucy would befriend him. He’s always been drawn to positive and cheerful people with gentle spirits.”</p><p>She looked down and held Lucy’s hand in one of her own while using her free hand to trace a pattern over the sleeping duchess’ forehead. She frowned and looked down.</p><p>“She’s...searching for something,” she murmured knowingly, “It’s almost as if her childhood dream of finding the Ape-Man is manifesting itself in her Nightmare Time.”</p><p>Xander sighed and looked down. Only Nightmare Time would ever be able to turn something that Lucy had described as ‘the greatest endeavor of her life’ into something that would harm her. Lucy had spent so much time in the caves, talking about her search for Chumby, and the look in her eyes that he had finally found him had been filled with so much joy...only Webby could think of a way that would take it all away.</p><p>“So…” John began, uncertainty in his eyes, “Is it this endless search for fulfillment that she’s not getting.”</p><p>Miss Holloway held up a finger, silencing John “No…she thinks she found him, but it’s a lie...a con.”</p><p>Her eyebrows furrowed and a vaguely shocked expression crossed her gaze.</p><p>“Now…” she murmured, “This is...odd.”</p><p>“Odd how?” Hidgens asked, raising a wiry eyebrow.</p><p>The woman looked up at Hidgens, “You’re in here…”<br/>Hidgens’ eyes widened and the old man went pale. A harrowing look crossed the man’s face as they took in the witch’s words.</p><p>“That’s not good,” Miss Holloway informed them matter-of-factly, “This means that Hidgens’ corrupted soul...the one that he and Jane Perkins cleaved from themselves in order to leave Nightmare Time is here...with intent to harm Lucy in ways that I don’t know yet.”</p><p>“Can he?” John leaned forward, casting a suspicious look at Hidgens through the corner of his eye, “Can he harm her?”</p><p>“Well...not <em>this </em> Hidgens,” Miss Holloway gestured to the still-pale old man, who’d backed away from the bed with a grave expression, “The Hidgens in Lucy’s head right now, is a rogue Hidgens. Someone who would act as this one would, but in a way that is more <em> unhinged </em>. Beyond morals or reason.”</p><p>“<em> A madman </em>.”</p><p>The words were quiet as Hidgens spoke them, his blue eyes trained downward in shame as everyone turned to look at him.  The old man looked like he wanted to make himself small as he refused to look at the others.</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, “Yes.”</p><p>Hidgens sighed, his eyes wide, “Has...Has he harmed her, yet?”</p><p>The woman closed her eyes and traced another shape on Lucy’s forehead, before shaking her head, “He’s not hurt her, but he is lying to her.”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow before pointing across the room to where Ted remained, looking just as he had after the portal incident, “And he’s using <em> him </em> to do it.”</p><p>“Ted?” John raised an eyebrow, “Why would he need Ted to do it?”</p><p>Miss Holloway shook her head, “I’m not sure, but that’s what he’s doing.”</p><p>She removed her hand from Lucy’s forehead and gently placed the girl’s hand with the other, squeezing it gently, as if she were trying to provide comfort to the ailing woman. </p><p>“From what I can tell,” Miss Holloway spoke, “This woman’s worst nightmare has something to do with being taken for a fool and playing into the hands of the wrong people, proving everyone’s perceptions of her correct. Judging from the absurdity of it, it’s hard to say, but I believe she’s experienced so much of this in normal life, that she’s afraid of it all actually proving to be correct.”</p><p>“Where is she in the dream now?” Hidgens asked, finally looking up.</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “From what I saw, she was trying to teach Mr. Spankoffski, who’s pretending to the Ape-Man, Konk, how to act like a man.”</p><p>“Konk?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow, “Where’d they pick a name like that from? The fuckin’ <em> Flintstones </em>?”</p><p>Miss Holloway said nothing to the remark and instead gracefully moved through the small crowd across the room, to where Bill was placed. As she passed by Alice, she looked at the young girl, who was shaking as her eyes went to her father, almost asking for her blessing. </p><p>With a small nod, Alice ushered the woman into Bill’s area. Just as she had for Lucy, the woman gently picked up the hand of the man, and the other hand went to the man’s forehead, careful not to disturb any of the medical instruments covering him.</p><p>“Bill Woodward?” she asked, looking at Alice, “Your father?”</p><p>Alice said nothing, only offering a weak nod, her eyes falling to Bill.</p><p>According to Emma, Alice had come in every single day to visit her father, but came alone and rarely stayed for longer than ten minutes. Whether or not it was because it was too painful for the young woman to visit her father, or because she was afraid of what she might see, was none of Xander’s business, but everyone knew that the blindness and eventual collapse of Bill Woodward was something that had harmed Alice greatly. </p><p>For a moment, she was quiet, her intent green eyes closed as she concentrated, before she started to speak again.</p><p>“The external dream is simple,” she spoke carefully, “He’s trying to bond with Alice... at a theme park of sorts, outside of the Witchwoods…”</p><p>Suddenly, the woman’s eyes widened and she turned to look at them, a grave expression in her eyes.</p><p>“This man is blind, isn’t he?”</p><p>There was a moment of silence, only broken by Alice’s heavy breathing, almost as if she were panicking at the idea of what that might imply.</p><p>“Yes!” she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears, “In the attacks, he went blind and we don’t know why!”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, her flawless face suddenly becoming etched with the deep lines of a frown. </p><p>“What?” Alice asked, her voice becoming filled with desperation, “What is it?!”</p><p>Miss Holloway shook her head, “I’m afraid that in the attacks of February seventh, your father was chosen to be a favorite of Bliklotep.”</p><p>“What?” Alice’s voice sounded so small, “How do you know?”</p><p>“The place,” Miss Holloway responded, “It’s called Watcher World. It’s what Blinky made of the old rundown amusement park on the other side of the Witchwoods.”</p><p>“W-what does that mean?” Alice asked, her voice shaky, “W-Will he be okay?”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed and looked down, “If we do this right, then yes. I was unaware that Blinky had a favorite. But this...his sudden blindness, and the fear in his Nightmare Time...it indicates that he did, in fact, pick one.”</p><p>“And what is it?” Hidgens asked, “His worst fear?”</p><p>Miss Holloway looked at the man and back to Alice, her green eyes softening as she looked at the shaking young woman, “Hurting and losing his daughter…” she said mournfully, “And being used as an instrument to do so.”</p><p>There was another moment of silence as the words sunk in, Alice’s breaths becoming uneven as she stared at the sleeping form of her daughter, big tears rolling down the girl’s cheeks. With a heavy sigh, the girl turned and started for the door. </p><p>“Alice...” Emma murmured, her own eyes filled with sadness at the predicament of one of her closest friends.</p><p>“No…” Alice murmured tearfully, holding up a hand, “I can’t...I can’t do this. I’m s-sorry.”</p><p>Without another word, the girl turned and practically bolted for the door, slipping out quietly as more tears began to fall, leaving everyone in a sense of melancholy understanding. Nobody blamed Alice for making the choice she’d made. Instead, they all felt sorry for the girl, knowing how difficult it was for her relationship with her father to get to where it was, and how difficult it was to imagine a life without him. </p><p>“She’ll be back,” Miss Holloway said, her eyes filled with pity for Alice, “She’s too protective of her father to not be involved.”</p><p>“It’s her choice,” John murmured, “Whatever choice Alice makes, we are bound to honor it.”</p><p>“Of course it’s her choice,” Miss Holloway nodded as she exited Bill’s containment area, “I’m just saying that because I know what her choice is going to be.”</p><p>“You can read minds?” Tim asked, following the woman to the next bed she was eyeing, with big eyes. No matter how grave the situation was, the boy’s ability to be amazed at anything was astounding to Xander. In some ways, it made Xander feel as if everything might have been okay.</p><p>The woman shook her head, the choppy red strands of her hair bouncing with the movement, “No kiddo…I’ve just got a lucky lil’ bit of foresight which aids me in times where it’s helpful but not necessary. Never exactly where I need it, but still helpful sometimes.”</p><p>“Wow,” Tim murmured, “Hannah’s got something like that.”</p><p>“I know,” Miss Holloway nodded with a smile, “But she’s got something far more powerful than I do.”</p><p>“Really?” The boy’s eyes were so wide, Xander thought they might pop out of his head.</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded again, “Yep. Some believe she is the most sensitive child to be born with the ability to hear, see, and even foretell the workings of the Black and White. Between that, and the Witch’s blood in her veins, Lord only knows what Hannah Foster is capable of.”</p><p>As they approached the third person Miss Holloway intended to reach, Xander heard Emma’s breath hitch in her throat. </p><p>Paul looked like he’d gotten worse than he had been the night before, with the infection showing the web-like patterns around the base of his skull as well as around the bottom of his ears. </p><p>Gingerly, Miss Holloway pulled back the curtain and looked at the man before turning to Emma.</p><p>“He’s had the weakest vitals, hasn’t he?” she murmured, her voice filled with something that hadn’t quite reached sympathy, but her eyes were still soft.</p><p>Emma sighed before Hidgens answered the question for her.</p><p>“Yes,” he murmured gravely, “It’s taken some serious work to maintain them to keep him where he is...but it’s not been easy.”<br/>“Hmm,” Miss Holloway nodded before taking Paul’s hand in her own. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Xander could see Emma cringe and look like she was about to say something. Miss Holloway noticed it too, and gently put Paul’s hand down.</p><p>As Miss Holloway looked at Emma, her eyes filled with understanding and she nodded.</p><p>“He doesn’t like being touched, does he?” she asked, “At least not by strangers like me?”</p><p>Emma nodded, her eyes filled with sadness that Miss Holloway seemed to understand.</p><p>“That’s okay,” Miss Holloway nodded, offering the woman a small smile, “There are other ways I can do it.”</p><p>Emma nodded and looked down, the words ‘thank you’ barely audible as she looked like she was working so hard to keep everything together. She’d been visiting Paul when they’d all come in to introduce them to Miss Holloway, and judging from the look on her face and the hand that hadn’t left her stomach, it hadn’t gone the way Emma had wanted. </p><p>Miss Holloway waved a hand over Paul’s form, closing her eyes as her fingers twisted, almost as if they were combing through something invisible. </p><p>With a soft sigh, Miss Holloway opened her eyes and looked at Paul.</p><p>“He’s...already dead in his Nightmare…” she began, her brows furrowed together. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Xander could see Emma look down, her knuckles white.</p><p>“What…” she whispered, her voice extremely low, “What does that mean for him?”<br/>“It means he’s a captive audience to his worst nightmare,” Miss Holloway explained, her eyes filled with regret as she looked away from Paul to look at her, “Alone.”</p><p>Alone. </p><p>The word hung in the air like an unpleasant scent.</p><p>“There are other people in his Nightmare,” Miss Holloway went on, her voice growing more grace as she explained, “But they can’t see him or hear him. He’s like a ghost...tethered to the person who killed him.”</p><p>Her eyebrows furrowed again, looking down at the sleeping man before turning to Emma.</p><p>“Did he ever mention being murdered in his dreams?” Miss Holloway asked, “Or...being replaced, perhaps?”</p><p>Emma opened her mouth and closed it, her eyes wide and her face going pale. In some ways, the woman didn’t even need to give an answer for the truth to come out.</p><p>“I see,” Miss Holloway nodded.</p><p>“H-He…” Emma mumbled, tears filling her dark eyes as she nodded shakily, “He...um...he asked me...he asked me if I’d know it was him... if he was-um...if he was replaced by someone who looked exactly like him.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded and tilted her head, “And what did you say?”</p><p>Emma looked taken aback by the question as a single tear rolled down her cheek, </p><p>“I-I said yes...of course,” she murmured, like it was an obvious answer, her eyes filled with fury, “I’d know if it was him or not...I’d know him anywhere.”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “Well, in his Nightmare, he thinks you didn’t.”</p><p>A shaky sound left Emma, sounding like a concealed sob as she processed the words, her eyes going to Paul as tears filled her eyes. She looked exhausted, emotionally and physically as she stared at the form of her partner...her soulmate. Xander’s heart ached for the woman. She’d been torn apart so many times trying to put their lives back together, and somehow the woman saying that was like a severe blow. Xander debated giving the witch a look of ‘maybe that wasn’t the best thing you could have said just then’ before she turned back to the man.</p><p>“Emphasis on ‘thinks’,” she whispered, muttering something unintelligible under her breath as she waved her hand over Paul again.</p><p>“What do you mean ‘thinks’?” Hidgens asked, his eyes wide with curiosity and fear.</p><p>Miss Holloway tilted her head as she studied Paul, humming softly under her breath. </p><p>Xander figured he should repeat the question.</p><p>“Miss Holloway…” he whispered, “What do you mean by ‘thinks’?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Miss Holloway looked up, “Oh...I simply meant that while Paul was killed and replaced by a doppelganger in his dream, the same thing essentially happened to Emma.”</p><p>When she was met with dumbfounded silence she went on. All of them blinking in silence at the witch as she continued to speak like the anomaly she mentioned was <em> perfectly natural. </em></p><p>“You see,” she looked at Emma with deep apologetic eyes, “Not only is his greatest fear the fear that he would never have a future with you...<em> It’s the fear that neither of you would ever get the chance to know and love the real you </em>...it’s manifesting itself in a situation of impossibility, but in the end, I fear it’s going to bring him more pain than he knows.”</p><p>Emma exhaled sharply as Miss Holloway left Paul’s area, her eyes trained on him as the group started to slowly move away. She furiously wiped away at her tears when she noticed Xander looking at her. </p><p>“I’m fine,” she murmured harshly in a small voice before walking away, not allowing Xander to say anything as she quickly made her way over to the next bed, only looking back for a second at Paul, wiping the tears from her eyes. </p><p>With a heavy sigh, Xander followed the group to the next bed, where Ted, his body probably the most physically banged up out of all of them, lay there, his eyes closed, and his scars left from all the times people had to incapacitate him to protect themselves and others were left exposed.</p><p>“Now this one…” she began, furrowing her brows as she studied Ted, “Is a completely different story.”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Ted sighed as he took another swig from the bottle, his vision growing a little blurry as he finished off his fourth drink of the evening. It was funny what a little aggressive persuasion to whatever second-rate bartender the venue provided could do. Now that he had a bottle of smirnoff in his hand, he’d at the very least be numb to the happiness of others, which was probably what was best in the event that he’d been unable to procure a hookup.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Look at everyone…” he slurred as people attempted to dance the macarena, the effect of the numerous drinks he’d had taking their effect perfectly, “Having sooo much fun” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the song changed and people clapped, he took another swig from the bottle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Such a fun time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and stared at the color scheme that Paul and Emma had picked, the sage greens and dark blues with occasional accents of gold here and there. It was more elegant than he would have thought Paul or Emma into and somehow it suited them. And though the majority of the songs were eighties and nineties songs that were appropriate to play at the wedding, Ted couldn’t deny that Paul and Emma had somehow managed to pull together a relatively solid event.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d once wanted this for himself, hadn’t he? Before he resorted to a self-pitying bone with anybody who was mildly horny any chance he’d gotten, he’d actually wanted a wedding for himself with the right person.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Jenny was gone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And another man had taken her from him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He took another swig from his bottle just as the DJ went on the loudspeaker, her voice echoing throughout the reception. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright everyone,” she said calmly, “We’d like to invite the newlyweds to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As everyone cheered, Ted took another drink. This was going to be miserable to watch. Sure, it would have been funny to watch Paul fail at dancing while Emma’s small frame led the dance, but given how he’d struck out with Emma earlier he didn’t want to disrupt that any further...no matter how fun it may have been. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Has anyone seen the groom?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The DJ’s voice was confused when the cheering and clapping died down, and guests everywhere began to look around, confused chatter breaking out. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Paul sitting a few rows of tables away. Looking around like an idiot with an odd smile on his face. What a moron. Didn’t he know that he was the happy husband everyone was looking for? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Paul!” Ted shouted, cringing at the way his voice slurred through the noise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul looked over at Ted and his eyes widened, a relieved look crossing his face. He quickly sauntered up to Ted with a large, enthusiastic smile Ted was fairly certain he’d never seen the man wear on his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There you are!” Paul smiled as he made his way to the bar, eyeing Ted up and down in confusion, “What are you doing here!?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without another word, Paul pulled Ted from his seat and began to lead him enthusiastically through the sea of people...had there been this many people at Paul and Emma’s wedding before? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they made their way through the people, Ted realized they were headed straight for the dance-floor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t wanna watch you dance!” Ted protested, to which Paul let out a noise which sounded like a snort. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “C’mon, Ted!” Paul laughed, pushing Ted out on the dance floor, “She’s waiting for you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted stumbled to the center of the dance floor, people laughing as he did. As he looked down, he could see the hem of a wedding dress made of ivory chiffon...which was odd. He thought Emma’s wedding dress had embroidery on the hem. He looked up, preparing to give Emma some sorry excuse about how her new husband was a coward who didn’t want to dance with him, when his breath was taken away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wha..?” he muttered dumbly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Standing before him was the single-most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her red hair was curled neatly as strands of what looked like baby’s breath were woven messily into some side braids which maintained a neat half-up look. Her dress had a deep v-cut neckline with spaghetti straps over her shoulders, allowing her perfect, pale skin to be revealed. A small tattoo of a bumblebee, just below her collarbone was barely visible beneath the cut of the bodice. Her green eyes were filled with fondness and mischief as she looked up at him with a soft smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could think of what to say, she spoke. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Teddy…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He thought he could have melted at the sound of his favorite nickname, especially when they were spoken by the woman who’d been his favorite person before himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt like he could have melted right there. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because Jenny was smiling back up at him </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wow...here we are,” she whispered excitedly, her green eyes shifting nervously at the people that surrounded them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Huh?” he whispered, his eyes darting around the venue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Had Paul and Emma had roses in their floral arrangements? Had they picked balloons at all, and not the golden bulbs which were floating above every single table elegantly? Had the lighting been like this? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a banner hanging on the far wall.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Instead of reading ‘Congratulations Paul and Emma!’ in dark blue script, like he’d figured they’d have, the banner read ‘Congratulations Ted and Jenny!’ in gold script, suddenly making him feel like his heart could have exploded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, just remember the lessons,” Jenny was murmuring, moving his hands around her waist and holding the other before he could say anything, “One hand goes here. You lead.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, a soft, solemn love song played and Jenny began to sway. Without thinking, he started to sway with her. Unable to look at anything but her as they danced, some people awwing from around the room. He didn’t care. His heart was pounding in his chest as he took in the sights before him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jenny,” he murmured, unable to believe anything that he was seeing, “Am I dreaming?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She raised an eyebrow at him, looking rather confused“Ted…You didn’t have one of my cousin’s edibles, did you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When he didn’t respond she giggled, lowering her voice so some of the prudish members of their guests wouldn’t hear her, “We were gonna take those together.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He laughed at her quiet mischief. Something about her that he’d fallen in love with back when they were young and dumb, and he thought he’d lost her for good. But the fact that she was in his arms in that very moment indicated that this wasn’t a dream. That Jenny was truly there in front of him. </em>
</p><p><em> “Jenny, it’s </em> our <em> wedding.” he could stop the warble in his voice as he spoke, “I can’t believe it...you’re so beautiful.” </em></p><p>
  <em> He buried his face in her neck, stopping the swaying as he just breathed her in, unable to do anything else, “I love you so much…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One of her hands softly cupped his cheek and she peered up at him, wiping away at the small tears pouring down his face as she smiled sweetly up at him </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, Teddy,” she smiled, holding him tighter, “I’ll lead.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once the dance had ended, Ted suddenly found himself and Jenny being swarmed with people who were wishing the new couple well. Mr. Davidson had clapped him on the back, even taking the time to introduce him to the missus. Bill had smiled and apologized profusely for whatever he’d done to annoy Ted that week, much to Ted’s satisfaction. Hell, his best friend Paul and his fiancee Emma had even wished him well. Everything was perfect. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Later he and Jenny cut into their cake, which was several layers of carrot cake and italian wedding cake with cream cheese frosting, and watched as their happy guests mingled and danced, the two of them eating cake and holding hands. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If this was a dream, Ted didn’t want to wake up from it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Teddy, tonight has been everything I’ve always dreamed of…” Jenny smiled, holding his hand as he finished off his wedding cake.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wanted to kiss her. He’d not kissed her since their supposed ceremony, had he? But before he could do so, or act on the instinct to respond, she reached underneath the neat tablecloth of their table and held something small out to him, a small smile on her face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was a present wrapped impeccably in golden foil, tied off with a golden cord. She nodded when he gave her a look, silently asking if it was for him and he took it from her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s this?” he asked, surprised by the sweetness of the gesture. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Just a little something,” she smiled mischievously, raising an eyebrow as if she had a joke she was trying to convey to him, “For you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He peeled back the paper to reveal an ornate, golden cube, all six of the sides covered in a strange, jagged pattern he didn’t recognize. He inspected it closely, unsure of what it was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What is it?” Ted asked, not quite getting the joke, “A box?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>ThE BasTArD’s BoX</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He looked up as the ambient noise was cut off by a maniacal, horrific voice, followed by a peal of terrifying laughter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To his horror, Jenny was gone. Everything was gone. None of the guests were there. The lights were out. The air stank of rotting food and decomposing flowers, and spider’s webs seemed to cover every inch of the room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” he murmured, horror seeping into his mind as he took notice of a large, cloaked figure standing on the other end of the room.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A familiar creature.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A stinking, goat-like creature with disgusting, matted yellow fur, covered in rotting robes of burlap. The head was disproportionately large on the body, and it’s blue eyes were dead but seemed to be looking right at him, as a dry and limp tongue dangled out of it’s gargantuan mouth between large, jagged teeth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For whatever reason, Ted knew that this being controlled him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Monster or Man, this creature was his Master. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>ThAT’s WhERE I keEP AlL My TOyS, TeDDy-BeAr! TOy’s LIKE YOU!!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The terrifying voice echoed in Ted’s mind as the familiar figure of the demon goat seemed to peer at him from the other side of the room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Where’s Jenny?!?” Ted asked, searching the deserted room as the world around him seemed to be enveloped in further horror, his throat clamping up as his heart pounded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted felt fear fill him as the creature spoke again, it’s dead eyes staring right at him.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>TicK-ToCk, TEddy-BeAr, TICK-FUCKING-TOCK!!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lighting flashed through the windows and the creature disappeared from its place, before reappearing on the table, inches from Ted’s face, making him yelp and gag at the same time from the putrid stench of the creature's breath. The dead eyes seemed to peer into Ted’s soul. Underneath the creature’s heavy hooves, the silverware bent and plates smashed, rotten food flying everywhere and dead flowers falling to the ground. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted could only sit there, frozen in horror. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>I’m CoMInG fOR YoUr AsS, TEdDy-BeAR!!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ted could do nothing but scream as the cacophonous laughter echoed in his mind, making him feel like his skull was caving in on itself. The demented goats face was so close to his he felt as if he could- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hey…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ted was snapped out of his nightmare by the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes to find that he was back at Paul and Emma’s wedding, all of the arrangements and decorations back to the way that it was before. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey...hey, Ted?” he looked to see Paul standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Christ!” Ted exclaimed, spilling the bottle of vodka he was holding down his shirt, somehow missing Paul in the process. Paul sighed as he looked down at the mess. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Would you…” Paul sighed as he took in the presumably sorry sight of Ted, “Would you lay off the booze, buddy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted didn’t care. He needed to see what was happening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wha-what…” He  stammered, “What happened to Jenny, Paul?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul merely sighed and placed his hand on Ted’s shoulder gently </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey...I got a favor to ask,” he began, starting to talk about something to do with printing out weekly reports but Ted was only half-listening as he kept searching the room.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It all had to have been real...right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jenny had been there in front of him. </em>
</p><p><em> He’d </em> held <em> her. </em></p><p>
  <em> That was something a younger version of himself who went by a childish nickname could have only dreamed of doing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d been there, with him, at their wedding. Not Paul and Emma’s. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked down at the mostly-empty bottle of Smirnoff. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Could it have been a dream? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> An acid trip of some kind? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Had he hallucinated things? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No...No...It had to have been real...right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, as Ted’s eyes traced over the room, he saw something flicker behind Paul. Something that looked like it was fading in and out of view. As it continued to move, Ted stared at it and suddenly, Ted wondered if he was beginning to see double. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was another Paul… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted would have laughed to himself at the idea, had the logical explanation not been that he was obviously drunk and was seeing double.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But...this other Paul. He wasn’t wearing the same thing as the Paul who was still talking. In fact, he was wearing a business suit...a business suit covered in... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And...you’re making some people uncomfortable,”  Paul finally said, getting to the point, snapping Ted out of his daze and turning to him, “Including Emma...So, could you be a pal?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed. This was Paul’s attempt to politely tell Ted that he’d outworn his welcome. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fine.” he muttered harshly as he stood, taking the mostly-empty bottle with him, “I know when I’m not wanted.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul muttered something under his breath that Ted couldn’t hear as he searched for his car keys in his deep pockets. He grumbled to himself as he did before Paul stopped him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I called you a car,” Paul smiled, walking him slightly towards the door.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His next words were very obviously a lie, but Ted knew Paul was trying to be polite about it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “Thanks...for coming, Ted.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted merely nodded and pulled open the door to the planetarium and stepped out into the starry night sky to wait for whatever ride Paul had managed to call for him. Maybe he got a hot Uber driver. Maybe he could convince the driver to share a rendezvous with him in CCRP.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While the idea was good, the image of Jenny’s smiling face flashed in his mind as he sat down on the front steps, finally finishing the bottle of vodka as he did. No, he was no longer in the mood for sex or seduction.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No...tonight had been a complete and total bust. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So, he sat on those steps pitying himself… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Silently resolving for this to be the last wedding he ever went to. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Paul needs all of the hugs.</p><p>Emma needs all of the hugs.</p><p>Ethan needs all of the hugs.</p><p>Alice needs all of the hugs.</p><p>You know what? All of them need all of the hugs. </p><p>Paul's trying to fight it. Whether or not he'll be successful is a matter of speculation.</p><p>So...lore, huh?</p><p>There was a bunch of stuff dropped here, so the chapter ended up being really long!<br/>But hey, at least we now know why the resets were the way they were (and why we should probably be scared for the Paulkins baby...also called Smaulkins by Silverpetals97)</p><p>Also, Ted's still not having a fun time.</p><p>Please leave comments and kudos if so desired! I really appreciate hearing from you guys! I really hope you all are staying safe as the world is still a really crazy and kinda messed up place as of rn.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading (and putting up with a really long chapter!)!! I really appreciate the fact that you guys have taken the time to read my work, as that means the world to me! Please stay safe, healthy, happy, and kind to yourselves, because you deserve it!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. I'm in the Fire but I'm Still Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Miss Holloway continues to explain before giving them a choice</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry I'm posting this a little later than I said I would. Life kinda got in the way of my posting it earlier so...late-night-reading!! Yay!!</p>
<p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song "Pendulum" by Pearl Jam.</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of spousal death, mentions of parental death, mentions of car crashes, attacks, and death...all in all, fun times.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom sighed as he looked at the newly refurbished 1986 Foxbody Mustang. Finally completed after all this time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Surprisingly, looking at the vehicle didn’t fill him with a sense of dread or nausea like he’d expected, especially after spending so long asking Tony to fix it to the same condition it had been in before the wreck. He’d wanted for this to be the car he and Jane eventually gave to Tim. It had been his first car, his Aunt Cynthia having taught him how to properly save up and take care of it, and it had lasted this long. He’d wanted it to go to Tim as a gift for his sixteenth. He and Jane would talk about it all the time. They wanted it to be a rite of passage or something for their boy, something they could all remember as he grew up. It was something he was looking forward to as a husband and a father. Something for their family to remember.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How sad it was that the memory he associated with this car was his worst one. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tony sighed from beside him, wiping his sweaty brow as he doffed his utility gloves. The man was only slightly taller than Tom, having always been that way since they were in high school together. His dark hair still fell messily past the ends of his ears, as if the man had never stepped out of the mullet era, and in some ways, teaching Tony’s son Ethan had only reminded Tom of the days when Tony’s girlfriend and Tom and Becky would get into trouble as misfits in Hatchetfield High. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>After Jane had graduated and their group was left without impulse control, Tom and Tony had made it their business to get everyone they knew into trouble and give all of their teachers hell. Eventually Tony dropped out because his girlfriend got pregnant and didn’t want to keep the baby, so Tony stepped into the role of the adult and did all that he could to care for his newborn son while Tom joined the army, leaving Becky behind to marry some other guy from Clivesdale. Those days had been so long ago, and yet, Tom could remember them like they were yesterday.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>However, the previous days had been filled with much happier memories. After going to Pizza Pete’s and scarfing down a large cheese pizza, he’d taken Becky and Tim for a drive around Hatchetfield, the night being young. They’d driven down first street to admire the lamp posts on alternate sides of the street with string lights drawn between them, lighting the street up and making it look magical, even if the Christmas season hadn’t officially started yet. They’d stopped by a local ice cream parlor, where he and Becky had gotten the same praline caramel flavor that they used to share when they were younger, while Tim made his face sticky and messy with the remnants of what was once rocky road with sprinkles and a lot of chocolate syrup. After that, it was back to their small house outside of Pinebrook, where they settled on a movie which was appropriate for Tim, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Santa Claus is Goin’ to High School!,</span>
  <em>
    <span> rather than Becky and Tom’s usual pick of </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Terminator, </span>
  <em>
    <span>as they’d picked when they were in high school, and watched as Tim fell asleep to the noises of the annoyingly cheerful music, crashing after a night filled with pizza and sugar. He’d put Tim to bed...and then Becky had spent the night. Better yet, Tim was okay with it, and he was excited to see that she was still there in the morning. Becky had made pancakes for everyone, and Tom had the joy of experiencing what it was like to wake up with Becky Barnes in his arms once more. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The whole night and following morning had been something out of high-school-aged Tom Houston’s dream. He’d never admittedly been a romantic, but it was obvious that he’d wanted a life with Becky. A life filled with smiles and laughter like he’d been privileged to experience a few nights before. Of course, Becky couldn’t stay another night as she had an early shift the next day, but he would have liked for her to stay again. He couldn’t deny that after all this time, a fateful run-in with her had led to him suddenly feeling like he was that bumbling football quarterback, who got distracted at practice because she’d smiled at him from where she was acting as a cheer captain.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d not felt this way since he’d been with Jane.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Arguably, even, he’d never felt that way with Jane. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His marriage to Jane had been a completely different wheelhouse from his relationship with Becky. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky was soft and gentle whereas Jane was blunt and all edges. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Neither of them was flawed because of it, but they were noticeably different.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, it didn’t change the fact that he’d loved Jane and his marriage to her had been a happy one...before…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook away the memory as he gently ran his hand over the fresh coat of paint on the hood of the car. Still that same maroon color that he’d loved to stare at as the late Hatchetfield sunset glinted off of it. Still the same color that complimented Becky’s hair when she’d sit on the hood, waiting for him to drive them to the local diner after school for ‘studying’. The same color which had complimented Jane’s usual choice color of a dark purple or red cardigan when she would lean up against it and smile at him, silently ordering him to stop gawking and kiss her. The same color that Tim had liked to wipe away at soapy bubbles to reveal when he was younger and they’d have car-washing days (really an excuse for Tim to get into his swim-trunks and play with water balloons while Jane and Tom cleaned out the garage). </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It almost looked as if he were staring at all of the best and worst memories of his life in a singular vehicle.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There she is,” Tony smiled, “Just like new.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom smiled fondly at it, the memory of the first day he’d been handed the keys to the vehicle before him playing in his mind as he stared at it. It had been his favorite birthday ever, especially after he’d just gotten his license. His Aunt Cynthia had warned him not to wreck it the second he’d started driving on his own, as she’d been determined that Tom would put her in an early grave with his driving. But he was determined to take care of this car.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>But...this wasn’t right.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>This wasn’t the car he’d been driving when Jane…</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>And Tony...when was the last time he’d seen Tony?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Tony was missing, wasn’t he?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Something wasn’t right.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Where was he?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <strong>“Tom, it’s a lie!!”</strong>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tony chuckled softly as he continued on his tangent, snapping Tom out of his daze “Well...as new as a thirty-three-year-old car can be.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom smiled. It was strange to think that he’d gotten that old in such a short time. Of course, the car was only a few years younger than him and had been used when Cynthia had gotten it fixed up for him, but he knew that this would be the car he’d wanted to drive until the day he died...only, he’d not been the one to die. He frowned as he admired how spotless the car looked. Was it selfish for him to save the car that his wife had died in? Was it some strange form of homage to her that he wanted to maintain? Was it because he used to imagine Tim driving this car once he got older? Honestly, he wasn’t sure. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, Tom…” Tony cut in, his eyebrow raised as he noticed Tom’s pensive nature, “You alright?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Huh?” Tom snapped out of his reverie, he shook his head as he looked back at the car, “Yeah, I’m sorry...She’s just so beautiful.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled softly at the realization of how long it had been since the last time he’d seen the car, “Sorry, she took up so much space in your garage for what? A-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A year and a half,” Tony nodded, shaking his head slightly with his usual small smile.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Has it been that long?” Tom wondered aloud. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A year and a half. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not only had it been a year and a half since he’d last driven in the car...it had been a year and a half since he’d last seen Jane. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He flinched at the memory of that horrible night. That terrible night when their lives were flipped upside down and his son was left without a mother. Part of Tom had not wanted to believe that it was real. That this was all just another one of his Nightmares and he’d wake up to find Jane laying next to him, ready to help him understand whatever was swirling around inside his head, as she always did. But Jane was gone. He’d come to accept that now. And the fact remained that even though he would always love Jane, it was time for him to let her rest in peace. It was time for him to move on. Perhaps having this car was a reminder that their lives could still be pieced together after such a terrible moment. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tony scratched at his head awkwardly, tucking a stray shaggy curl underneath his baseball cap, “Listen, Tom,” he began, “A buddy of mine is a collector of vintage automobiles...he could give you a good price if you don’t wanna…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tony sighed and looked down as Tom finally understood the implication of what he was trying to offer him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’d take care of er’.” Tony nodded, looking at Tom with comforting eyes. Almost as if he were silently telling Tom that it was okay for him to let go of the car if it was too painful to deal with. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No...no,” Tom shook his head as he turned back to the car “She belongs with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and ran his hand over the hood again, “This...um...This car meant a lot to Jane and-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey,” Tony cut him off with an understanding nod as he clapped Tom gently on the back, “Hey, Pal...It’s alright.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tony’s eyes seemed to glaze over with a melancholy look in his eyes as he looked back down at the car. He shook his head, “I can’t imagine losing someone like that.” “If anything happened to my boy, Ethan...I don’t know what I’d do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Look…” Tony began with a small sigh like he always did when they were in High school and he could tell something was bothering Tom, “Why don’t you come inside and…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom shook his head, offering Tony a small smile, “Thanks, Tony...I’ll see you around.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tony nodded and offered a small wave, “See you around, Tom.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom smiled as he passed Tony the final wad of cash that he’d procured to pay for all of the repairs, before accepting his keys from the man and sitting down for the first time in what felt like forever in his old car. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he settled down into the worn leather, the color and lining all restored to perfection, he found himself silently praising Tony for being a goddamned </span>
  </em>
  <span>miracle worker. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything was perfectly fixed and recreated. Even the wooden siding around the old radio was perfect. He smiled softly to himself as he eagerly grabbed the keys and turned them, hearing the old familiar roar of the engine greeting him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hi, honey,” he murmured to the car, “I’m home.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Waving to Tony as he pulled out of the garage, he quickly found himself feeling like a teenager again as he fell back into his usual driving rhythm, the old familiar sense and instinct coming back to him as he made his way throughout the early morning mist of Hatchetfield. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d told Tim he needed to run a quick errand earlier in the morning, but he planned to be back home by the time Tim needed to go to school. He wanted so badly to see his son’s reaction. His hope was that Tim might be just as excited as he was, but he also knew that given the last time they’d driven in the car, he’d understand if Tim was a little uneasy. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he pulled up in front of the house, he saw Tim sitting on the front porch, possibly debating whether or not Tom would make it back in time to take him to school as he’d promised or if he should take the bus. As Tom pulled into the driveway in front of their house, he watched as his son’s dark eyes widened as he lowered the window, “Hop in, Buddy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad…” Tim murmured, standing from where he was sitting, his bag slightly hanging off of one of his shoulders, “Is...Is this…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah!” Tom nodded, trying to be enthusiastic for Tim, “C’mon, let’s take her for a spin.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hesitantly, Tim moved forward, tugging the door open with wide eyes as he got into the passenger seat, his eyes taking in the sight of the car with disbelief. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom sighed softly, not wanting to push it. He didn’t blame Tim for being shocked. After all, the worst memory of his son’s life had taken place in this car. If Tim needed time, then time was what Tom would give him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A few moments later, they were driving through the streets of Hatchetfield, trying to get Tim to school on time. Tim was staring blankly out the window as they did. For a moment, Tom debated staring at his son as he drove, but something inside of him kept his eyes on the road and the road alone. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You okay?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of the speed limit signs and the cars that were coming in and out of parking lots around them. He wouldn’t make another mistake in this car again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm?” Tim hummed, looking briefly over at him before nodding, a distant look in his dark eyes, “Yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We got the car back,” he smiled, trying to start a conversation with his obviously distracted son, “1986 Foxbody Mustang...she’s a classic.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tim hummed under his breath, still staring blankly out the window, a grey beanie tugged over his shaggy and messy hair, clearly not wanting to bother with combing it this morning. Tom made a mental note to take Tim to the barber later on, even if haircuts and doctor’s appointment scheduling had always been Jane’s thing. Just another thing for him to get used to since she’d been gone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know,” he began, trying to keep his voice light and full of enthusiasm “In a few years if you’re really good, this could be your car. What do you think of that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I dunno…” Tim sighed, looking back out the window.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom sighed. It was just time that Tim needed. He’d get used to having the car back. Soon, everything would be back to normal. They’d already made plans to see Becky again in a week, but if they needed to put those off, then he would. Whatever it was that Tim needed, he would do anything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He smiled as they pulled up in the carline at Hatchetfield elementary, students smiling and waving at their parents as they left their own cars.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright, well, have a good day at school, huh?” he told Tim as he put the car in park. He turned over to see the boy almost too quickly getting out of the car, hastily gathering his oversized backpack from it,  “I’ll pick you up at four.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tim’s eyes widened as they traced over the car. For a moment, Tom could have sworn he saw his son wince at the idea. Tim shook his head and offered Tom a haphazard grin, “I think I’ll just take the bus,” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom sighed in understanding. He didn’t think this would be so hard for Tim, but it made sense. Whatever Tim needed, he would offer it, “Okay…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom watched as his son began to move towards the school entrance, watching fondly as Tim neared the doors. Tom was just about to take the car out of park when-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BEEP.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom jumped at the sudden noise of the car’s horn. He cursed in shock and looked down at his arms as he did. Had he accidentally hit the horn? Or was that someone else’s car? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, he looked up to see Tim opening the door to the backseat, a small, bashful smile on his face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forgot my lunch,” Tim nodded with a small smile before walking off, offering him a little wave, “Thanks, Dad.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite being very confused, Tom waved to his son, before looking back down at the horn of his car. Had he seen Tim’s lunch and honked the horn to get his attention? He must have...maybe his memory was just lapsing a little bit. Jane had once said that was normal for people who’d sustained injuries as he had in Iraq.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head and drove off, making his way down the street. He’d still not gone back to work, but he had taken up a few custom carpentry commissions around town that he’d work on when he got home. He’d offered to make Paul and Emma a new small dining table for their apartment as a wedding present, and seeing as how they’d gotten married a few months before, he was way overdue, not that the couple complained. He’d work on that when he got home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed as he pulled up to a red light, turning on the old radio as an old, cheesy pop song turned on.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘You tied up my heart,’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>the singer crooned, </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘You tied me down...Now break me open, with your love and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed as he remembered the song, as it was one Jane liked to blast when they would take long drives together. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jane loved this song,” he murmured to himself, remembering her scream-singing, despite being relatively tone-deaf as she did. He shook his head with a soft smile at the memory before changing the radio station, “I, on the other hand…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Got my foot on the gas!’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He smiled softly to himself at the familiar song from the classic rock station blared through the speakers, “That’s more like it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked up just in time to see the light change colors. However, just as he put his foot on the gas, the song changed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘She lets me drive-’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>a small blur of static interrupted his favorite song before </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘Heeeart you tied me down...now break me open-’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Huh…” He sighed, wagering a small glance down at the radio before turning back to look at the road, “That’s funny…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He decided not to try and change it again, not wanting to cause another wreck and instantaneously undo all of Tony’s hard work. Besides, Tony had mentioned the need for a new stereo, hadn’t he? Maybe this was the reason for it. He’d ask Tony about it later and maybe take him up on the offer to replace the radio. It </span>
  </em>
  <span>was </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirty-three years old, after all. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he pulled back into the garage of his house, Tom sighed, putting the car in park and just sitting there, light pouring from his open garage as he stared down at the steering wheel of his old car. He ran a gentle hand over the dashboard and the sides of the steering wheel as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I missed you…” he murmured to the car with a soft smile on his face. It was true...he had missed this car very much, but not as much as he missed something else. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a small sad sigh, he turned to the passenger’s seat, half-expecting to see a familiar smirking face sitting beside him, his heart sinking as he took note of how empty it was, “I miss you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He swallowed back the lump that was building in his throat as he opened his door and got out of the car, already so excited that the car was back in their cluttered garage. He made a mental note to clean out the garage later on in the week as he pressed the Garage-door opener, the small hum of it allowing the old contraption to groan as the dim light of the garage seemed to swallow him. He turned to open the door to the house when a small sound caught his attention.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>I miss you too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He suddenly felt as if his veins were filled with ice as he whirled around, looking for the source of the eerily familiar-sounding voice, but he found nothing. Just the clutter of the garage, the dim flickering light, the cobwebs, and the car. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the hell?” he murmured to himself as he turned to enter the house, slamming the door behind him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He felt as if his heart was gonna burst out of his chest as he realized just </span>
  </em>
  <span>whose</span>
  <em>
    <span> voice he’d heard. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It couldn’t have been...and yet, it sounded </span>
  </em>
  <span>so much</span>
  <em>
    <span> like her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head, he had to have been hearing things.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He stared down at his shaking hands. This had to do with PTSD, right? Something had triggered it and now he was hearing things. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane would know…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and looked down again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to have been hearing things.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>While he didn’t have Jane to ask about it anymore, they did have a very good bookstore. They’d donated some of Jane’s old psychology books to them after she’d died since they had some great secondhand deals, and he had no use of them. One of those books </span>
  </em>
  <span>had </span>
  <em>
    <span>to give him the answers Jane would have given him. Silently, he planned to be there within the hour. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe getting the car hadn’t been such a good idea after all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“<strike>Tom, it’s a lie! <strong>Wake up!”</strong></strike></span>
  <strong>
    <strike>
      
    </strike>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: May 12th, 2020</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now this one…” Miss Holloway leaned forward, inspecting Ted intently as she drew a hand over his forehead, “Is a completely different story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were standing, partially crowded around Ted’s bed, having made it through less than half of the victims as an explanation of what they were all going through and John already felt like he both understood everything and nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mysteriously sudden appearance of the woman who’d looked like she’d stepped out of the eighties had been something of a shock for John. Out of all the things life could have thrown at him, the tangible apparition of a dead witch who might have been from a completely different decade had to have been one that he’d never expected. Especially a dead witch who could possibly read minds and defer to them everything that they’d wanted to know about what was going on inside the heads of their loved ones. Because of all of this, Miss Holloway had been anything but what John was expecting from the investigation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In some ways, he was unsure of whether or not he could trust her. After all, for all they knew, she was simply feeding them a load of shit and leading them in the wrong direction. This woman could have been an agent of Webby and was leading them off while the seven victims slowly died off. However, something was imploring him to trust her. It wasn’t anything he could explain, but every fiber of his being was telling him that there was no way this woman was an agent of Webby. He somehow knew that her claims of being summoned by Hannah were true...however improbable they were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is he different?” Xander asked, one of his hands tracing patterns on his chin as he studied the woman, his dark eye filled with all of the questions John knew his husband wanted more than anything to ask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…” Miss Holloway hummed as she picked up Ted’s hand, “He’s been through this nightmare several times, but he kept being brought out of it to do Tinky’s bidding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence as Miss Holloway tilted her head, inspecting the mostly-healed cube-like indent on Ted’s hand, the scars brutal as they reminded everyone of the day when everything started to fall out of control. Her fingers gently traced over the damaged skin as she inspected it, looking at it with curious eyes. As her eyes traced Ted up and down, John could have sworn he saw a flash of something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>pity</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the eyes of the woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up, a sharp look in her green eyes, “You do realize that four out of your seven victims are favorites of the Lords in Black and Webby, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John didn’t get a chance to respond as Miss Holloway paced around the room, gesturing to the various victims as she passed them, “Mr. Woodward is the favorite of Blinky...Paul is the favorite of Apatha- although, I’m sure that’s not news to you, Hannah is obviously the favorite of Webby, and finally...Ted here is the favorite of Tinky…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, “The other three aren’t favorites from what I can tell, but the fact that these four are here is definitely a puzzle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan raised his hand, “What does it mean? To be a favorite?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded at the question. They’d known for a very long time that Paul was Apatha’s favorite, but he still didn’t quite understand what that entailed or what it meant for his friend. Now that they’d had more than one favorite in their presence, figuring out what that meant must have been of the utmost importance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed and started to pace around the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s almost…” she began, “It’s almost like they’re the favorite chess piece of the Lord in Black who picked them. In some ways, the being who picked them uses them as an instrument to bring about their success.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gestured to where Paul was lying, “He’s been used in one of the earlier resets. Apatha spent the majority of her apocalypse trying to get him on her side to herald in her Apotheosis…” she shook her head and turned back to the group, “In some ways, they’re the ones the Lords in Black like to torment the most in an attempt to get them to do their bidding. Sometimes it doesn’t always work but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned back to Ted and sighed, “It appeared this man wasn’t so lucky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” John began, “Because Ted was picked as a favorite, he was manipulated into doing all of those things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The portal incident…” Xander murmured, “The attack on Emma, the attacks of February seventh...all of those because he was the favorite?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded once more, “The Time Bastard, as he is called as the favorite of Tinky, is a very powerful tool in this war. Tinky is just as cruel as his siblings, but in some ways, his work is more efficient. He might be the youngest out of all of them, but his work can always be recognized.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What of his Nightmare?” Hidgens asked, leaning in as Holloway started to make her way back to Ted’s bedside, “What has he seen over and over again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See...that’s another interesting facet of this man’s particular case,” she spoke clearly, inspecting Ted further, “He’s seen it, but not in Nightmare Time...Tinky just showed him what he wanted Ted to see before the attacks of February seventh, knowing what it would do to his mind. In some ways that altered Ted’s mind, physically and psychologically, almost as if he were creating  a completely different person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gently traced the same pattern on Ted’s forehead with her hand as she had with Bill and Lucy and closed her eyes. There was a moment as she did where her brows furrowed together and the woman looked almost...</span>
  <em>
    <span>confused.</span>
  </em>
  <span> However, this didn’t stop her from continuing the process, quietly and intently looking for whatever it was that was destroying Ted’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…” she hummed as she opened her eyes, “Now...</span>
  <em>
    <span>that is interesting.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Hidgens asked, his eyes filled with urgency, “What do you see?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Miss Holloway said nothing, her eyes darting between Ted and Paul, a look of vague confusion on her face before a small smile crossed it, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma scoffed, clearly growing impatient, “Are you gonna share with the class or are you gonna keep on being so damn cryptic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked up and nodded, “Apologies...I just don’t think I’ve ever seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another moment of silence as she studied Ted, almost as if she was taking in every single detail of the man. John could sense that everyone in the group -including himself- was getting impatient to hear about what the woman found so fascinating about Ted (and possibly Paul, seeing as how she kept glancing over in his direction) when finally she broke the silence.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Their nightmares intersect,” Miss Holloway partially whispered, gesturing between Paul and Ted, “They intersect several times from what I can tell...but they probably don’t even realize it...especially since Paul’s essentially a ghost.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>John could see Emma grit her teeth at those final few words.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Before Emma could let a few more scathing words fly, John cut in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” John asked, “Is there any way they can help one another break out of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “As I said...nobody can see Paul- the real Paul, anyway. There’s a chance Ted might...but he probably won’t even realize what it is he’s looking at. And like I said, the intersection points differ from the point in each nightmare so the chances for that to occur are scarce.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where have they intersected now?” Hidgens asked, “What are they both seeing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked down at Ted, tilting her head slightly, “A wedding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John and Xander shared a look before the woman went on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paul’s being forced to watch his murderer live out the life he wanted with the woman he thought was Emma,” Miss Holloway explained, not looking up, “It’s here that Ted starts to bring about his end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wagered a small glance over at Emma at Miss Holloway’s mentioning of the setting of Paul’s dream, watching as she looked like she was debating whether or not she wanted to cry or throw up. In some ways, the revelation about Paul’s dream being him held as a captive audience to his own worst nightmare, had been terrifying. Not only had it been the idea that Paul was already dead in his dream, but the fact that he and Emma had never gotten to know and love the real versions of themselves as they had in this world had been something that had shaken John. He didn’t know what he’d do had it been Xander in that situation. The fact that Emma had been working as hard as she could while being pregnant as well as still adjusting to the life of being an amputee was astonishing. John was fairly certain that if he asked, there was nothing this woman couldn’t do. She caught his gaze for a second and instantly tore her eyes away, obviously not wanting to think about the implications of what Paul was seeing. It was no secret to John that the both of them had considered asking the other to marry them just before everything had gone to shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed as Miss Holloway went on, “Tinky and Blinky are both playing with Ted and Bill in their Nightmares, trying to work them to the brink. Ted’s being bestowed with phenomenal power, not knowing that it’ll push him to the edge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of phenomenal power?” John asked, raising an eyebrow before looking down at the man who’d been the source of many headaches over the course of the previous few months. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “The power to reverse past mistakes...and given this man’s track record of not thinking things through, that’s a very bad thing. You see... he lost a loved one many years ago, and Tinky’s making him think it’s his fault.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Hmm…” Hidgens hummed under his breath, “Any chance of Paul and his dreams intersecting again somewhere?” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed and turned to Emma, a grave look in her eyes. For a moment, Emma looked like a deer in the headlights, unsure why the strange witch woman was looking at her before finally, Miss Holloway broke the awkward silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He attacked you because he claimed you’d murdered him, right?” she asked the on-edge woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma paled as John remembered the horrible footage he’d had to watch several times to attempt to make sense of. He’d watched Ted try and murder Emma (who, without anyone’s knowledge, was already pregnant) several times and every single time the words echoed back at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I won’t let you kill me again.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John swallowed hard as Emma’s face was enough to give Miss Holloway her answer. The woman didn’t even need to say a single word for the redheaded witch to sigh and look down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” she nodded, before turning to Hidgens, “Yes...as you see, the story both begins and ends with Paul’s dream in Ted’s world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I kill him,” Emma murmured, looking down, a somewhat conflicted look on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not you,” Miss Holloway said, her voice somewhat comforting, “The person who replaced you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You keep saying that,” John nodded, “So...if Emma was replaced, what happened to her?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed again and cast a glance over to Paul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s...complicated,” she murmured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got the time,” Emma mumbled, her voice filled with bitterness and tears she was refusing to let fall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked at John, who merely nodded. The more they knew about what was going on inside of these people’s heads, the better. She nodded and turned to Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please understand, Emma,” she began, her voice serious, “This is a world where Paul is playing a captive audience. His life was stolen from him by someone who looked exactly like him. As I said before, the same thing happened to you whilst you were in Guatemala.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” Emma whispered, looking like perhaps it wasn’t as bad as the witch was making it out to be, “I died in Guatemala?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought,” Miss Holloway mused, “Just before you came back to Hatchetfield in the real world, you were on a bus. An android version of yourself cut the brakes on the bus beforehand-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma has an android version of herself?” Ethan cut in, his icy blue eyes wide with disbelief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “This other Emma cut the brakes on the bus before it departed, and once it had, the other Emma stole everything of Emma’s from the hostel and left, returning to Hatchetfield after learning that the real Emma’s sister Jane died. Meanwhile, the bus ended up being sent over a cliff and the real Emma was presumed dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was in a bus accident…” Emma murmured, “Just before I came back. The bus’s brakes failed...we went over a small cliff, but it wasn’t so bad. A lot of injuries, but no deaths, save for a few chickens. I’ve got a mean scar on my hip from it, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Miss Holloway nodded, “It would make sense that it would be in Paul’s nightmare if it’s something you told him. In some ways, he’s pulling from a few real experiences to create this one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait…” John began, “You said that Emma was presumed dead...what happened to the real Emma?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John glanced again at Emma, who went pale as Miss Holloway continued her story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To make a long story short,” Miss Holloway sighed, “The false Paul murdered the real Emma shortly after marrying the fake Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence at the sudden drop of information. Emma went pale and her hands were shaking as Hidgens spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m assuming the real Paul was forced to watch?” he murmured, looking grave as he very </span>
  <em>
    <span>pointedly </span>
  </em>
  <span>avoided making eye contact with Emma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He will be,” Miss Holloway nodded, “He’s not at that point yet, but he will be forced to watch the man who killed him kill Emma as well. All the while the Paul and Emma living in Hatchetfield are both fake...and Emma wasn’t the last person on the false married couple’s hit list. From what I can see, Ted’s there too...hence his attack on Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How could they not have known?” Ethan asked, his eyes wide </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John turned to see that Emma was staring at the ground, a dead look in her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s gonna watch me die again?” she whispered, her voice sounding more furious than sad or fearful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so,” Miss Holloway nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma said nothing, looking away from all of the victims with her jaw clenched. John wouldn’t have blamed the woman for losing her mind right there. First, she learned that she and her sister were cursed centuries before they were born, then she learned that her baby just might be abnormal in some way, then she’d learned what her soulmate’s worst fear was, and now she knew he was going to watch her die again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John had been there two out of the three times Paul thought Emma was dead. First, there was when Paul first saw a reset from the Black and White when he’d first learned about what John and Ethan had spent lifetimes learning about, then there had been the moment when Emma restored memories to everyone, flatlining as Paul could do nothing but cry over her body. Of course, Emma was still alive now, and she was still kicking ass, much to Paul’s relief, but he’d seen the way something like that had broken him. If he were to undergo something like that during Nightmare Time...he didn’t even want to think about what that would do to his brain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” Miss Holloway continued, “The death of Ted by the hands of the false Paul and Emma has been something he’s seen several times. It looks like if we were to get Ted out, it would be extremely difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get them out?” Hidgens asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you saying that’s possible?” Ethan asked, his eyes widening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway held up a finger, “Let’s go through the final three victims, and then I’ll talk about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you are saying it’s a possibility?” Xander chimed in, his eyes filled with questions John knew he’d stop at nothing to have answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway didn’t answer as she left Ted’s bedside to move to the bed across from Paul’s, where Tom lay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Miss Holloway gently opened the curtain to step inside Tom’s area, she stopped and glanced down at Tim, whose eyes were nervously searching the woman. Looking for any reason he shouldn’t trust her to find out what was going on with his father. Miss Holloway seemed to notice this and a small smile crossed her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You love your father a whole lot, don’t you, Tim?” she asked the boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, tears filling his eyes, “Yeah…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “I’m sorry he got mixed up in all of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim shook his head, “We’re Houston’s. It’s our job to get mixed up in all of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John could hear Becky softly chuckle from where she was standing behind Tim, a soft smile crossing her face as Miss Holloway stepped into Tom’s area. Just then, he was hit with the realization of just how much Becky had suffered as well. Like Emma, she never stopped working when it came to the infirmary. She’d fulfilled her duties as a nurse while tag-teaming being the best guardian possible for Tim. She’d continued to help people over the course of the previous weeks, despite whatever turmoil she was facing, all the while keeping a smile on her face for the sake of everyone else. Nobody could deny how powerful Becky Barnes truly was. Though too many people had made the mistake of underestimating her, she was truly a woman of great strength, and oftentimes that came from her ability to be gentle and sweet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway hummed under her breath again and began to trace the same pattern over Tom’s forehead. Her eyes were focused as she stared down at the man, having to push some of the unruly curls on his head out of the way to trace the appropriate pattern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment she sighed and shook her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Becky asked, sounding kind of meek, “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Miss Holloway sighed again, wearing an expression that could only be described as ‘same shit every day’, “It’s all fun and games until the late wife gets involved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In tandem, Becky, Tim, and Emma’s eyes widened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jane…” Emma whispered, “Jane’s there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so,” Miss Holloway nodded, “But not the Jane you all knew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve discussed this,” Hidgens cut in with wide eyes, “We think Tom is encountering the corrupted part of Jane’s soul. The one she cut away when she and I had to get into Paul and Emma’s daydream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Miss Holloway nodded, taking her hands off of Tom’s forehead, “That should tell you enough about what’s happening. Except for the fact that the corrupted soul of Jane is currently trapped in the car she died in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s eyes widened and his brows furrowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom’s...a minivan?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky, but almost skeptical of the idea. To be honest, John was, as well. But, to be fair, this was Nightmare Time they were dealing with. Even the most terrifying of concepts could be presented under the guise of absurdity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, of course not...” Miss Holloway chuckled lightly, “She’s a 1986 Foxbody Mustang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another moment of silence where the whole room just blinked at the implication. At this point in the evening, there shouldn’t have been anything to surprise them, and yet, here they were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” Becky looked like she’d swallowed something unpleasant, “I’m sorry?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me,” Miss Holloway nodded, “Jane’s a car in this one...also she’s murderous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Big surprise,” Emma murmured bitterly, her eyes still wide as she considered the implications of her dead sister being a car, “But what does that mean for Tom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “I’m not sure. Right now his Nightmare Time seems to be one of mundanity. But I think this won’t end well in his mind for you, Becky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?” Becky asked, her eyes wide, “Why me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Miss Holloway sighed, “At this point in the Nightmare, you and Tom have just reconnected...once the dead wife comes back into the picture, and she’s looking for a way to get a physical presence in her family’s life outside of being a car. Simply put, Jane’s corrupted soul is looking for a body, and she has to kill someone to get it. Where do you think that leaves you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky paled for a moment and looked down as Miss Holloway continued to talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not only that,” she sighed, “But where does that leave Tom’s mind? Because, here’s what I think his worst fear is…I think his worst fear is wanting something </span>
  <em>
    <span>so badly </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it ruins everything else in his life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John noticed Becky look down with a sad look on her face as the witch continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>In some ways, he’s both scared of letting go and moving on..</span>
  </em>
  <span>.and it will bring him more pain than he knows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim’s eyes were wide with tears as he stared at his father’s sleeping face, “Then how do we stop it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get there,” Miss Holloway nodded, a soft look in her eyes, “But I promise, I didn’t come here without a solution.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without another word, the woman walked from her place at Tom’s bedside and made her way to the final pair of beds; Hannah and Lex’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled softly as she stepped into the sisters’ area and looked back at Ethan, her hands softly brushing over Hannah’s freshly braided hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You visit them often?” she asked him, to which the teenager nodded, his eyes trained on the two of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re my world,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears at the sight of them both. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway smiled warmly at him before tracing her fingertips over a stuffed mouse that was nestled into the crook of Hannah’s arm. John smiled softly, the memory of Ethan returning back to his and the girls’ apartment to grab a few things for Lex and Hannah. The small gender-fluid stuffed mouse had been among them, as Ethan said Hannah loved it because Lex got it for her. It was both saddening and heartwarming to see the mouse with Hannah right now, the little girl still unmoving and asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked sad as she studied the two girls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re both very powerful, aren’t they?” she turned back to John for confirmation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded at the memories of what the Foster girls had accomplished, with or without their powers, “More than any of us could ever know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway hummed, “The blood of the witch is strong in them…” she softly chuckled, “How funny it is that the three out of the four living descendants of the witch have abilities after generations of carrying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody said anything as she took both of the girls’ hands, not even bothering to trace over their foreheads as she had with the others and she closed her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike the case with the other victims, Miss Holloway only took less than a minute before opening her eyes and placing the girls’ hands on their beds, smiling down at Hannah. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You brilliant, brilliant girl,” she murmured, pushing a stray bang of Hannah’s out of her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Ethan asked eagerly. John could see the boy was fiddling endlessly with his hands, “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway turned to them, a knowing smile on her face, “She knew. She knew how to fix this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Ethan asked in a breathy voice, his eyes filled with hopeful tears, “How do we fix this?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed with a small smile before exiting the girl’s area. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow me,” she instructed the group, moving back to where she’d been standing to use her visual-aid spell, or whatever it had been called earlier on, “We have much to discuss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As everyone took their places around the room, John somehow felt himself being filled with a sense of dread. He knew that the solution to save everyone that they loved couldn’t be one that was easy. Still, if Hannah had found a way to do it, then shouldn’t they follow in her lead?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway waved her hands around, forming another illusion for all of them to see as they stood around her, watching the strange woman intently. Bursts of color formed at the woman’s fingertips as she waved them around in intricate patterns. The small specks of colored light came together and formed what looked like a line of trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hannah was brilliant when she decided to follow Lex into Nightmare Time,” Miss Holloway smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brilliant?” Ethan cried, “She could have gotten herself killed! It’s danger-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Ethan,” Miss Holloway nodded, “She did too...but she knew there was a way to fix it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s mind flashed back to that moment when Hannah had cried out that she could fix this to all of them. He could see it in her eyes that she believed it...and somehow, given the fact that Miss Holloway was standing in front of them saying it was so, he was inclined to believe her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nightmare Time is a forest of souls,” Miss Holloway explained, “At least, that’s the way Webby designed it. It’s like a maze of sorts for a singular person, in which that person wanders it and views their worst nightmare as if it were a part of their normal lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Hidgens began, his voice uneasy, “We know all of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but what you don’t know and Hannah did,” Miss Holloway continued, “Is that there’s always a weak spot. Not that Webby designed it so you would know, but there’s always a weak spot. A spot where the barrier between the person’s real life and the life they think they’re leading could be broken into.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you…” Xander began, “Are you saying there’s a way for us to break them out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan’s face fell, “But you said…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said there was a weak spot,” Miss Holloway cut him off, “A way for us to get in, not out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s heart sank as he considered what Miss Holloway was insinuating, “Are you suggesting we sacrifice ourselves to Nightmare Time to get them out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “We couldn’t break them out of Nightmare Time if we tried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why did you-” Emma began, her words sounding angry and tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But a daydream…” Miss Holloway turned to them with a smile on her face, “A daydream is doable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another moment of silence as everyone blinked, considering what she meant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A daydream?” Becky echoed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway smiled before turning to Emma with a knowing look in her eyes, “Specifically, a pocket-dimension in which people can be saved from death...a pocket-dimension created by a soulbond.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma looked down, “You mean…” she sighed and shook her head,  “The one Paul and I created…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s mind was racing. It was true, they had evidence to support the fact that Paul and Emma had created a dimension in which their souls were stashed away before they were pulled back from death. But how did that apply to what was happening here?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Xander spoke up, “I’m confused.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens nodded, “I am, as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed and nodded,  “Professor? You and Jane Perkins escaped from Nightmare Time into the daydream dimension of Paul and Emma’s creation, yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Hidgens nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “But we were already dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but you still escaped,” Miss Holloway nodded, waving her hand as something that looked like a white tear in a tree appeared in the illusion, “In some ways, the opening into Paul and Emma’s pocket-reality works as a back door out of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And if they get there,” Xander mused, “They’d be able to leave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but it would need some coaxing,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “Which means several people would need to go in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room sat there in stunned silence as they considered the possibility of what Miss Holloway was implying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go...in there?” Becky echoed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Miss Holloway nodded with a grave expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean…” Ethan murmured, his eyes wide, “Into...Nightmare Time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked down and nodded before speaking, “Not your own, of course, but the Nightmare Times of the ones you love and inhabiting your body in that dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway waved her hand as a silhouette of what looked like a regular person stood in the middle of the forest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To get a person into Nightmare Time that isn’t their own,” Miss Holloway continued, illustrating what she was saying with the illusion “Or, at least, the way Hannah was able to do it, you’d need a great amount of psychic energy to break through the weak spot in the barrier. This energy will transfer your mind to the Nightmare Time of the person’s, in the body, they envision you in. For example, Hannah chose to enter Lex’s Nightmare Time, thereby placing her in her own body in Lex’s dream...Unfortunately for Hannah, Webby took note of this and trapped her there as well, making her forget that she was ever trying to break Lex out, but the idea was straightforward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Webby trapped Hannah there?” Ethan asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded gravely, “When the most powerful seer on the earth is an enemy of the creator of Nightmare Time and tries to save her sister. People tend to take notice. Webby pulls all of the strings here, she was able to work around most of what Hannah was trying to do, and rewrote some of Lex’s Nightmare to suit Hannah as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan sighed and looked down, “So...you say we can access our bodies in there if we use psychic energy...who’s to say that Webby won’t work around that as well and make us think it’s real?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simple,” Miss Holloway smirked, “Webby can’t control the dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gestured to herself with a small grin as she continued to speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hannah might be MIA, and I’m not nearly as powerful as she is,” she nodded, “But I am still a powerful witch...and experienced. I can amass the energy needed to get us there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what are you waiting for?!” Tim cried, “Why can’t we save them now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because that’s the tricky part,” Miss Holloway looked down, “We need to get the timing right. You see, first off, we need to wait for a moment when our physical bodies within the dreams are out of danger and able to come into contact with the individuals we’re trying to reach, meaning we need to wait a while for those opportunities to appear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And secondly?” Hidgens asked, “There’s always a worse part to things like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is,” Miss Holloway’s face fell, “We have to wait until all of them are on the brink of death.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Absolutely not!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck no!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you crazy?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander, Becky, Emma, and Ethan all spoke at once, their eyes wide as they stared at the woman, who looked like she wasn’t enjoying delivering this bit of the news. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that’s the only way,” Miss Holloway shook her head, regret in her eyes, “When they’re all at that point, that’s when the barrier will be thin enough for us to break through as well as making it possible for us to access Emma and Paul’s daydream from within Nightmare Time. If we were to do it immediately, while they’re all still so deep in Nightmare Time, we won’t be able to get a strong enough hold on the victim and we’d lose everyone, victims and potential rescuers alike.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> John nodded. It made sense that such a process like this would be difficult. They were dealing with an intricate trap laid by one of the most powerful beings in the universe. If they even wanted to have a chance at saving the people who mattered more to them, it made sense that such things would be difficult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not only that,” Miss Holloway sighed, “In some cases, there’s only gonna be one person who’ll be able to access a specific mind. Emma with Paul, for example.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the sound of her name, Emma looked up, “Me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Yes. Paul is dead in his Nightmare, you see? Only people murdered by the same man who killed him can see, hear, or even talk to him...which means we have to wait until just after you’re dead in the dream to get you through.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d risk her life?” Hidgens demanded, “The life of her child?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Miss Holloway sighed, looking annoyed that the man had interjected, “She’d already be dead, so she’d likely be in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> amount of danger. She’d be able to find Paul easier, without bringing any harm to her baby in this world. Nobody else would be killed and able to talk to the real Paul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma looked down, softly nodding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Becky’s the only option to get through to Tom,” Miss Holloway sighed, “Except, the timing is gonna be tricky on that one too, because the corrupt Jane is seeking to push Becky’s soul free from her body in an attempt to take it for herself...I and my partner can handle Lex and Hannah-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” Ethan cut in, “Why can’t I help them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wagered a glance at the teen and saw the desperation in his eyes. He knew how hard losing Lex and Hannah to Nightmare Time had been for him. In some ways, the boy had lost near everyone in his life. Despite all of this, he kept going, so it made sense that he would be anxious to help them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “Unfortunately, Lex’s Nightmare Time involves all three of you being separated to the point at which she can’t protect you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan shook his head, “What does that mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It means,” Miss Holloway whispered gravely, “That if you were to enter your physical body within Lex’s Nightmare Time, you’d find yourself in a prison in Clivesdale rather than near Hannah or Lex, where you could save them. Which is why I will do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John turned to the woman with an eyebrow raised, “You?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, “Yes, Me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Hidgens inquired, leaning forward, “You can’t do anything like that unless…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a physical body in Lex’s Nightmare Time?” Miss Holloway asked, “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And why should we trust you?” Ethan asked, his eyes filled with skepticism, “No offense, lady, you seem really cool, and I love the retro aesthetic, but how the hell do we know that you’re not some-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agent of Webby?” Miss Holloway sighed, looking as if she’d been expecting this question,  to which Ethan nodded shakily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The redheaded woman sighed and shook her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand your concern,” she spoke calmly and concisely, “But you must understand that I’ve been fighting against the Black and White’s monsters for </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages.</span>
  </em>
  <span> In my last battle with Wilbur Cross, he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone else went silent as the weight of the words seemed to sink in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway, although dead, had also lost someone to the wrath of Webby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As punishment for my opposition, Webby killed and cursed someone who meant a great deal to me,” she explained a somewhat haunted look in her eyes, “He’s trapped in Nightmare Time as well...acting as a wanderer rather than a victim... and I’d like to get him back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John felt something twist at his heart at the woman’s voice, the sadness she was concealing beneath her knowledge of everything. In some ways, he felt as if he was looking at a soldier who’d lost the most important battle in her life. While she very much appeared like the kind of woman who wasn’t to be trifled with, he knew the guilt that could take root in even the strongest of people. Somehow, he knew she was telling the truth, and he knew everyone else in the room did as well. There was a look in her eyes that couldn’t be forged or faked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see,” Miss Holloway looked up, regaining her composure, “This is the only way for us to succeed. This is the only way to get them back, and I’m afraid we have to conduct it very carefully and patiently...so if you want to back out, you can back out.”   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another moment of silence as everyone seemed to look at one another as if waiting for someone to speak up and say that they wanted out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But nobody did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all, how could they?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway smiled and nodded, “Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John fought back against a smile at the determination he saw in the eyes of everyone and turned to the strange woman, “What do you think should be our next move?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway’s face fell into a look of determination and she grinned, “First and foremost, they all need rest...they’re gonna need it with as much work as there is to have done in the next few days. We’ll probably need to wait about a week or so before we can even think about entering Nightmare Time, so we need to prepare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, “Sounds like a plan,” he turned to the other people in the room, “You heard the woman. Please finish whatever business you have here within the next few minutes and return to your apartments for the evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone turned to look at one another, with some small chatter before dispersing. Some people, like Becky and Tim going for the door, while others, like Emma and Ethan, remained, casting some glances of mixed hope and anxiety over the people they’d lost. Still, John couldn’t deny the hope that was suddenly present. It might have only been a little bit of hope, but it was more than they’d had in the hours before Miss Holloway’s arrival. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that was more than enough for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Professor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway turned to the man who’d started to make his way back to his desk, inevitably going to write everything they’d just been told down with vigor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens looked up at the sound of Miss Holloway’s voice, the woman giving him a look John couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t a look of condemnation...but knowledge. Something which sent an unpleasant shiver up John’s spine as he observed the obvious tension Hidgens was filled with. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you make the right choice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At her words, Hidgens went pale and sat down at his desk a haunted look in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In confusion, John turned to the woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that about?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it, General. What matters is we have a plan. And we’re going to get them all back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed and shook his head, his mind still partially spinning with as much information Miss Holloway had given them. In some ways, it felt as if they were being drowned in an avalanche of information. All of these new explanations made him feel as if he could understand so much more than he had before, but it was overwhelming. Despite the hope and joy that he felt at knowing more, he worried that perhaps they were in deeper waters than they’d wanted to be. Of course, it hadn’t been their choice to be involved in a war of this magnitude, but it was still their fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was still their duty to be involved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If not theirs, then his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and shook his head as he looked over at Xander, who was in deep discussion with Emma about some sort of lab protocols. He couldn’t bear to lose Xander in the midst of this fight, but he wanted a future where they could see the sky. A future where they didn’t have to live in fear of the Beings of the Black and White.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you’re right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hannah?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah looked up from the trailer steps to see the nice man from social services walking towards her, getting out of his own car- and old-fashioned station wagon- with a concerned look on his face. He was a handsome fellow in his mid-thirties...something her mother liked to try and manipulate, especially when it came to getting him to leave them alone.  His hair was a little shaggy, and his hazel eyes were caring as they scanned over the poor living conditions the Foster’s lived in, but unlike most social workers Hannah had met or encountered over her lifetime, at least before Lex went away, Duke Keane was a good person who genuinely cared. She didn’t need Webby to tell her that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hiya Duke,” she greeted, offering him a small smile.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Heya, Darlin’,” he greeted her, his slight southern accent coming through the years of living up north. He called everyone ‘Darlin’’ if he liked them. Pamela was always just ‘Pamela’ which honestly made Hannah trust him even more. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just came to check,” he shrugged, his smile somewhat concerned as they landed on the can in her hands, “Whatcha got there?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked down at the can she was still holding, not wanting to litter and disrespect the trees she enjoyed conversing with. Rather than doing something that would get her mother to yell at her, she decided to do what Lex would have done and played dumb, offering him only a haphazard shrug.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed, “Where did you get that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah looked down guiltily. She’d need to learn how to play dumb better, or Duke would have to get dumber for her to pull it off. Though, she didn’t like lying, especially not to a good person like Duke. He was good and was trying to help her through doing his job. She sighed, “Momma.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke nodded as if this was the answer he was expecting. He gestured his head in the direction of the trailer door, “She inside?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Hannah cringed as she lied. It was the answer her mother had given her and Lex when they were younger. If anyone was to come over wanting to talk to her, unless they brought money, they were to tell them that she was out. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed, a somewhat sad look in his eyes, “Did she tell you to say that?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh-huh,” she nodded. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her mom wasn’t gonna like that she wasn’t a good liar. Lex was always the one to tell people to go away. That hadn’t worked out very well for Hannah since Lex had been taken away. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and shook his head, an almost guilty look in his eyes, “Let’s go have a word with her.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she led him up the small stairs to their trailer, he noticed the somewhat sad look in her eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How are things?” he asked her, trying to brighten her up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She merely shrugged, “Fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How’s your music comin’?” he asked, knowing how fond of her white ukulele Lexi had gotten her before everything had gone wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shrugged, “Can’t do it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes softened and he raised an eyebrow, “Why not, Darlin’?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and shook her head, knowing she would get in trouble if she told Duke the truth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hannah,” the man whispered, “What happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked down. She knew Duke was trustworthy. Just before Webby had gone away, she had given Hannah the indication that he was a good man. That he’d try his best to help her and Lexi when she and Ethan were taken away. Maybe he’d do enough to help her stand up to Pamela.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Took it away,” Hannah murmured, staring at the ground, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who did?” Came his response, gentle and not harsh in the way she would have expected. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She swallowed hard and continued to stare at the ground, “Momma.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked up, still not meeting his eyes as he sighed and nodded, “Okay...well, let’s go talk to her, and I’ll see about getting it back for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She managed a small smile as he pulled open the trailer door and held it for her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she walked in, her mother snapped up from where she was sitting, practically drooling over the smile of the news guy with the wide smile. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“NANNERS!” she screamed, making Hannah flinch at the noise, biting down on her lip as her hands played with the oversized sleeves of her flannel, she closed her eyes in hopes that the yelling would stop, “WHAT IN THE HELL- Oh...Mr. Keanes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost instantly, whatever anger Pamela had at Hannah melted away at the sight of the somewhat scowling social worker standing behind her daughter. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What a surprise,” Pamela laughed awkwardly, quickly diverting to her usual facade of sweetness, like a type of candy that melted in the sun and festered over time, “I wasn’t expectin’ you here today.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pamela,” Duke greeted her with a curt nod, “It time for another one of my regular checkups, and this was the day we agreed on.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh...yes, of course,” Pamela laughed again, “I didn’t forget. But with everythin’ that’s been goin’ on lately, my mind ain’t where it’s supposed to be.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d agree,” Duke nodded, his voice laced with a tiny bit of sarcasm, “After all, that could be the only reason I found Hannah on the front steps with this, isn’t it?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He passed the can of beer, still mostly filled over to Pamela, who instantly recognized the can. Almost instantly, Hannah recognized the look on her Mother’s face, which meant she was likely creating a lie to present to the man</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh...Thank you so much, Mr. Keane,” she breathed, the hand holding her cigarette going to her chest in a somewhat heartfelt gesture as she took the still-cold can from his hand,  “I cannot believe Hannah would just steal one of my beers” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shot Hannah a reprimanding look“I taught you better than that, young lady,” she leaned in closer, immediately making Hannah lean away, not liking the smell of alcohol and cigarettes on her mother, even if that was </span>
  </em>
  <span>all </span>
  <em>
    <span>her mother smelled like to her, “If you’re gonna drink someone’s beers, you gotta throw em’ a few bucks.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just seems to be a pattern here,” Duke shrugged, “Ms. Foster, first Lex gets caught with your pills, and now...Hannah with your alcohol.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know, Duke…” Pamela sighed, putting on her most pitiful face that Hannah had seen her use with nearly anybody who came near the trailer, “Why do they gotta make it so hard to be a single mother?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah sighed as Pamela leaned forward, puffing her cigarette smoke in Duke’s face. She’d seen this too many times before. Growing up, it just seemed as if those were the traits Pamela thought necessary to be a mother, and until Hannah had started being old enough to go around town with Lex, that was what she thought all mothers were like. At least, until she was about six and passed by a mother kissing her baby’s head, or another woman holding the hand of her child as she crossed the street. It was then that Hannah had learned that Lexi was the closest thing she had to a real-life mother. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pamela flashed Duke a somewhat </span>
  </em>
  <span>suggestive </span>
  <em>
    <span>grin (at least, that’s what Lexi always called it) and took another drag from her cigarette- presumably, her third or fourth one judging from how many were on the coaster on the box they used as a coffee table in the tiny space.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If only I had a man to help me,” Pamela crooned, “To hold me…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed uncomfortably at Pamela’s advances, “Alright, Pamela, you’re not gonna be holding onto Hannah at all if this keeps up.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For whatever reason, Hannah felt her heart jump at the idea. First Lexi was gone, then Webby...if she was taken from Pamela, even if she wasn’t the best option,  she’d be thrown into so much unfamiliarity. So much that she wasn’t ready to deal with. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You wanna lose her?” Duke asked, his eyes wide, almost as if he couldn’t comprehend the fact that Pamela was acting this was a normal thing, “Like you lost Lex?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah wasn’t surprised when Pamela just leaned back and took another drag from her cigarette, “Don’t get my hopes up, Duke.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke shook his head, very obviously trying to keep...what was the word? Professional. That was what Ethan said people had to act in cases like this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is not a joke, Pamela,” Duke said seriously, he glanced at Hannah, a slightly apologetic look in his eyes, “I found Hannah talkin’ to a tree.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah looked down. She knew Duke didn’t mean to sound like he was insinuating that she was crazy...but it came off that way all the same. Hannah’s bananas, that’s what she’d heard from her mother too many times. Of course, Lexi and Ethan called her banana with the softest and sweetest ways she’d ever heard it, but her mother called her ‘Nanners’ and ‘Bananas’ because she, too, thought her daughter was crazy. Being called bananas was not the worst thing Pamela had called her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There had been times when Hannah had been forced to crawl under her ratty old mattress to drown out the sounds of Lex screaming at Pamela for calling Hannah less than kind things. Sometimes Lex would come back into their shared room with a new welt forming on her cheek, but she would wipe away whatever tears she had and tell Hannah that as soon as they were out of there, everything would be okay. As soon as they made it to California, they’d be free of their mother’s cruelty. But the California dream had gone away when Lexi had. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She needs to be mentally engaged with something,” Duke went on. His eyes traced around the small space once more before he turned to Pamela, a somewhat annoyed expression on his face, “Where is her ukulele?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” Pamela asked, a dead look on her face as she took another drag.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The instrument you took from her,” Duke stared Pamela in the eyes, a look that Hannah hadn’t seen on most people’s faces when it came to dealing with her mother; determination and steadfastness. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Me?!?” Pamela shrugged, playing dumb- something her mother did amazingly and without much effort, “Take from my own child?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” Duke nodded, “That’s what she says.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah looked down as Pamela leaned in with a scoff. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well,” she scoffed, bringing her cigarette back up to her lips as she went to take another drag, “We’ve already established that she is a lying little turd so…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With another scoff, Pamela stood, limping on her broken foot to the cupboard where she retrieved the instrument from where she’d stashed it earlier on in the morning, out of Hannah’s reach.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was just…” Pamela stammered, her eyes searching for a lie, “Cleaning it for her…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She leaned down and passed the instrument to Hannah, a sweet smile on her face, but rage in her eyes, “Here ya go, Nanners…” her voice lowered dangerously as she leaned in closer to Hannah, “Ya little tattle-tale.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah looked down at the instrument her mother had put in her hands, her fingers running over the smooth wood and crisp paint. She felt her heart suddenly like a kick drum in her chest as she stared down at it, concern washing over her. She shook her head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She’d never played the ukulele.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>At least...she’d never played Webby’s songs on one. </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>True, Lex had given her one a while back but…</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Something was wrong. </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>This wasn’t right.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She came here with a purpose.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>To save Lexi.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>To save everyone.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She was in Nightmare Time.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was snapped out of her daze as her hands gently ran over the strings.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s not mine,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her mother’s eyes widened, warning flashing in them as she smiled and nodded, looking over at Duke with a fake smile.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes it is,” she insisted, nodding along.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah shook her head again, “It’s wrong.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her mother’s smile twitched and her voice lowered in warning, “No. It ain’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed, holding his hand out to Pamela, trying to diffuse the tension, “Just...give Hannah </span>
  </em>
  <span>her</span>
  <em>
    <span> ukulele back.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pamela scoffed and threw up her hands in exasperation, “You think I got money for two of these?!?” she groaned and leaned in closer to Duke to explain, “This thing keeps me up all night...she just won’t stop playin’. How am I supposed to get my beauty sleep?!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and turned to Hannah, a somewhat apologetic look in his eyes as he was obviously fed up with Pamela’s complaining, “Don’t play past nine, Hannah.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a small nod, Duke started to head for the door, having checked everything he needed to see, but Hannah knew she couldn’t let him leave. He would understand. She didn’t know how...but somehow she knew he’d know how to help her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s the wrong color,” Hannah explained, stopping him before he could reach for the doorknob, “Mine’s white.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>You can run, but are you fast enough?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke turned with a raised eyebrow, genuine concern in his eyes “What?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>You can hide, but I will find you.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked back down at the jet-black instrument in her hands. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Close your eyes so you don’t doze off.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was, indeed, a beautiful instrument, but something about the cool black color indicated to her that something...if not everything...was wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Hold your breath, so I don’t hear you.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her eyes widened. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>The trail of tears that you will leave me…</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s only black in my dreams,” she whispered harrowingly, “In...Nightmare Time.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Will lead you straight to those who fear me.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t explain why the words suddenly rolled off her tongue, or why saying them had sent a terrible shiver up her spine. Somehow those words had meaning, and dread was filling in the pit of her stomach.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>You can run if I don’t catch you.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She turned to Duke, her eyes wide as her voice wavered, “Is this Nightmare Time too?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked back down at the ukulele, unable to understand why her hands were shaking suddenly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke said nothing to her, instead looking at Pamela and muttering, “I need to make a phone call,” and leaving the trailer, leaving Pamela to scoff and plop back down on the couch as Hannah stared at the instrument. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nanners!” Pamela snapped as she turned the TV back on, “Get outta the way so I can see my man.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Robotically, Hannah moved away from the TV, silently moving to the small closet-sized room she and Lex had once shared, placing the faulty instrument down on Lex’s mattress unable to do anything but stare at it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew something wasn’t right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t have already been in Nightmare Time...couldn’t she?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But...she knew something was wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She just wasn’t sure what. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sat down on her ratty old mattress, just staring at the black ukulele, unsure of what to make of it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Regardless, she knew something was wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps...she’d gotten herself entangled in a web. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <strike>But the Nightmare Time is gonna get you.</strike>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby could feel the fury of two of her siblings as they walked up behind her. It was almost as if she was standing in the middle of a forest fire, with the flames voraciously licking against her skin, threatening to devour her alive. Still, she remained steadfast and stared out into the maze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your brat summoned the Witch!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha fumed musically as she stormed up in a dramatic fashion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought the emisssssssary did away with her!!” Wiggly shrieked, his voice filled with fury. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is all your fault!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha shrieked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I told you not to provoke the little seer...but what did you do, Web’insa? You went and poked at the bear...so much so she threw herself in the line of fire. So much so that she managed to re-manifest the one person we told the emissary to kill into the reality to help us.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby didn’t respond to her sibling’s protests as she stared out at the carnage that was playing out in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To say hatchetfield was a war zone was putting it nicely. Each section of the island was divided amongst the siblings as some form of the capital city while they devoured the world. Right now, Nibbly was on the other side of the world with his army, devouring the souls and blood of the unfaithful, claiming the Asian continent in the name of the Lords in Black. Blinky was still entertaining himself at the old amusement park, which he’d christened Watcher World so he could properly torment his favorite while he was in Nightmare Time, while Tinky just sat near what the Hatchetfield residents called starry cove, rolling his cube across the landscape like a dice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Hannah summoning the one the emissary had killed was not part of the plan, but Webby herself wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, it opened many a window of opportunity for them. Of course, her siblings couldn’t see that. They were too blinded by the fact they had little to no control over the situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you keep giving them victories Webbsy-web?” Wiggly inquired, his voice filled with acid, “If they know too much…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They won’t,” came her response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apatha scoffed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really? You let them have Hidgens...now you let them have Holloway…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s under control,” Webby responded calmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha snapped, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Or are you just saying that so we won’t lose our faith in you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough,” Webby murmured, but her sister went on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you worried that you don’t have us on tight enough a leash, Webby?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha went on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you worried that we won’t take matters into our own hands? God, if we’d just done this my way, we’d have control over everyone by now. There’d be no resistance...there’d be no.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“ENOUGH!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Webby shouted, whirling around to face her sister, effectively shutting the both of them up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you lack faith?” Webby asked her siblings pacing in front of them, “I’ve gotten us this far, haven’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them said anything as Webby went on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, the seer summoning the Witch was not according to plan,” she hissed, glaring at her siblings as she paced past them “Yes, the one who walks the hollow path complicates things, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not</span>
  </em>
  <span> forget what else we have at play here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And what is that, exactly?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha sneered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You haven’t necessarily been an open book when it comes to these things.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Webby moved closer to her siblings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to give a little to get a little,” she whispered, watching the anger on her sibling’s faces waver slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, she turned and went back to staring out at the destruction once more, for already, she was developing a way to work around the little Seer’s attempt at gaining help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Emissary himself had died when he’d sworn his life to the Lords in Black. Only the dead could do away with the dead. She’d just have to send the Emissary to do away with the Witch once more. It was simple, especially since he had the knife now. That was all it would take to banish the one who walked the hollow path away. Then, of course, Emma and her child would be dead within a week, eliminating a greater problem for her as well as destroying Apatha’s favorite even further. In addition, if Henry moved in the way she knew he would, Tinky’s bastard would be dead as well, eliminating more issues for all of them, and then of course the function of Blinky’s Zealots weren’t completed, so that would be done and a few other people would be picked away...and then the plan would be able to proceed as planned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All that was in the way of that was Holloway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be easy to kill her again, Webby knew. But the Emissary had killed her before in this lifetime. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surely, he could do it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled as she looked out to the world she and her siblings were building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still was in control.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And no move by the Seer or the Witch would change that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whoa...that was a lot of lore.</p>
<p>Tom needs a hug.</p>
<p>Bless Miss Holloway for explaining crap to these people (and aknowledging how difficult things are for these people)</p>
<p>Yeah...they're all kinda going through it.</p>
<p>Stan Duke Keane and get Hannah away from Pamela (and Webby).</p>
<p>Webby sucks. More at eleven.</p>
<p>Please leave comments and/or kudos if you would like!!! I love hearing your feedback and theories about this fic, and would really appreciate anything you have to say!!! Thank you so much for putting up with these really long chapters and late posting times!!!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!!! I really hope you all have a wonderful weekend and stay safe, happy, and healthy!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. There is Something and Then There is Nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A plot is revealed, but is it too late?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title for this song comes from the song "Line Without a Hook" By Ricky Montgomery.</p>
<p>Sorry this ended up being long again! I swear I'm trying to cut back on chapter length, but with the addition of the NT arc things have gotten relatively out of hand. It's either make really long chapters or have this fic have too many chapters, so I'm trying to balance it out. I hope that's okay.<br/>However, thank you so much for sticking with this fic with as long as the chapters are!!</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of murder, panic attacks, heights, death, self-harm and abuse (Because Blinky is a bitch), and attempted murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy smiled softly as they continued to work through the various illustrations in the book, showing Konk all of the new things he’d need to learn should he decide to enter society as a man. The book had been one she’d found in Hidgens’ library, an old volume depicting a great deal of old-fashioned decorum and manners, which was something she was doing her best to instruct him on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To say that the past few weeks had been the best of her life would be an understatement.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When Hidgens had invited her to stay, she’d known that she would be unable to resist the urge to spend as long as she could in the alluring little town. Not only that but she also enjoyed spending time with Konk. Why, just the day before, they’d taken Hidgens’ horse out to run on the vast expanse of land, and had watched the sun go down. Lucy had taught him about the stars, and the rain, and they’d run throughout the fields in what Lucy would have described as her perfect day.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not only that, but Konk had called her beautiful.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The weeks of teaching Konk how to become human were weeks in which she felt her life finally was being granted the validation she’d always been longing for. Almost as if she was  finally receiving a package she’d ordered years before and had waited eagerly for and now it had arrived on her doorstep, wrapped in elegant paper and a ribbon she couldn’t wait to pull away. Every day with Konk had been an adventure for her, giving her much more joy in life than anything her life back in England could have given her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> She hoped nobody would worry. After all, she’d texted Jonathan and told him that she would be remaining in Hatchetfield for the next few weeks until they determined Konk had learned everything he’d needed to learn to decide whether or not he wanted to enter society as a man. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He scratched his long, tangled mass of dark hair, looking more like a mullet as time had gone by. Perhaps Lucy could give him his first real haircut since Hidgens had shaved him. Although it was odd, she felt, that his real fur had not yet started to grow back, especially after nearly fourteen months. She glanced back down at the picture they were on, the old-fashioned illustration depicting a man in a full victorian suit handing a bouquet of lovely flowers to a woman. Konk tilted his head in puzzlement. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why man give woman pretty things from ground?” he inquired. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy smiled. She was very happy that Konk had started to adopt a wider range of vocabulary the more she and Hidgens worked with him. It definitely made it easier for her to understand him as time had gone on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a bouquet,” she smiled, looking up from the illustration, “A man gives it to a woman when he loves her.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Konk’s eyes widened at the mention of the new word. He tilted his head at the sound of it, “‘Love’?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Lucy nodded with a soft smile as she looked down at the flowers on the drawing, “It’s when two people enjoy each other’s company and want to stay together forever…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At least, that’s what she thought love was. She never exactly had a good example of that in her life other than her parents, and she’d not even gotten to hold onto that for long as her mother had passed shortly after that first trip in Hatchetfield. After that, her father had been her only source of love, but she’d never gotten to truly observe it as she got older. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Konk was silent for a moment, a look in his hazel eyes characterized by thinking. He’d started to do that a lot more as time had gone on, something Hidgens referred to as ‘breaking free from his primalistic instinct’.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like…” he mused, “Konk and Lucy?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A furious blush worked its way onto her cheeks. Before she could offer him any stunned response, he went on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk and Lucy,” he nodded, a small smile on his face, “Have love!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He smiled up at her, excitement on his face as he grinned. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I…” Lucy didn’t know how to respond. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was true, she enjoyed Konk’s company above most other people she knew as of right now. Hell, she enjoyed his company more than Jonathan’s. He was softer, kinder, and amusing in the way he went about the world, treating everything like it was something of an amazement. It was also true that she wanted to stay in Hatchetfield to help him learn as much as he could, but did she love him?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>DING DONG</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t get the chance to further her answer anymore as the sound of Hidgens old-fashioned doorbell rolled throughout the expanse of the house. She sighed slightly in relief, tossing a glance at Konk, who looked uncharacteristically perturbed at the sound. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She cast an apologetic glance at him before standing and straightening her skirt, “I should get that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She hurried out of the greenhouse, placing the book on one of the side tables in Hidgens’ hallway, her eyes stopping as she looked at the bouquet of flowers that the man was handing the woman, a soft look in his eyes. With a small pang of sadness, she realized that Jonathan had never looked at her like that. Of course, their marriage was supposed to be something of a business contract. He’d get the title and she’d get the money. But now that she’d found Konk, didn’t that mean she didn’t need the money anymore? She shook those thoughts from her head as another impatient sound from the doorbell snapped her free of her thoughts. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m coming,” she murmured, knowing full-well the person on the other side of the door couldn’t hear her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She unlocked and pulled open one of the double doors, staring out into the usual overcast weather of Hatchetfield.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello?” she asked, unable to see anyone standing on the porch just yet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>“Well, well…Lucy Stockworth,” a chillingly familiar voice cut through the silence of the Wicthwood. She whirled to see a familiar man leaning up against the porch in an almost theatrical manner, “You’ve been a very naughty girl.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>She had to do a double-take to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. But from the three-piece suit with the perfect, crisp green tie, to the sharp green eyes that stared at her with a condescending look, there was no mistaking it.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Speak of the Devil.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jonathan!” she practically squeaked in surprise before clearing her throat and shaking her head, “What on Earth are you doing here?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan scoffed as he moved forward, shaking his head at her surprised greeting, “Well, I expected a cheerier reception than that! Can’t a man join his fiance for a pleasant holiday?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Every fiber of Lucy’s being wanted to respond with ‘no, not this fiance in this town’, but she bit back the remark and held back an eye-roll as Jonathan continued. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>  “A holiday which you were set to return from two weeks ago.” Jonathan sighed and leaned in, placing a hand somewhat awkwardly on her shoulder, immediately making Lucy wish he’d remove it. Of course, she did know that both of them were still in the process of figuring out how to act like properly engaged couples. All of this was washed away as Jonathan continued to speak, “You missed your dress fitting, you know.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed. How could he be so worried about something so trivial?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My mother is beside herself,” he went on, both of his hands on her shoulders now as he looked down at her, “And I must admit I’ve been dreadfully worried as well.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I…” Lucy began, choosing her next words carefully, “I got caught up in things here. Didn’t you receive any of my text messages?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan sighed, “Yes...and I figured that any place that could have captured the attention of my...flighty little Lucy must be quite something indeed.” he cast a disapproving glare at the vast expanse of woods that surrounded the ornate, but somewhat dilapidated manor, “So, I’ve come to see the sights of Hatchetfield myself. Maybe do some hunting.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy sighed again. She should have been expecting this from him, especially since he never traveled anywhere without his hunting rifles. She could even see them in the back seat of his own car, parked neatly in the front driveway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He leaned in, smirking to himself, “I hear the game here’s a spot of alright. I’ll shoot you a nighthawk. We’ll have it stuffed as a souvenir. Then, you won’t have any reason to come back to this silly place.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, that was the point of his whole monologue! Jonathan never liked it when she ventured back to Hatchetfield. Whenever she’d mention that she was traveling back to the midwestern town, he’d scoff and ask her why she bothered paying attention to such a place as this. But he’d never understood that she didn’t want to leave. Just as he’d never understood what truly mattered to her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jonathan,” she began her form of protest, “I-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy!” a familiar crisp voice rescued her from making her excuses. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She whirled around to see the professor, dressed in a deep blue robe over his usual outfit of a turtleneck and khaki slacks. Why the man was wearing a robe over his usual everyday clothes, she didn’t know, but she was grateful for the interruption. He descended the stairs in a theatrical manner, looking quite perturbed as he took in the sight of Jonathan, “What did I say about outsiders?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s not an outsider, Professor.” Lucy sighed, before gesturing to Jonathan, “We can trust him. This is Jonathan Brisby, my…” she hesitated on the final word, “...fiance.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fiance?” Hidgens eyebrows raised skeptically, “I didn’t realize you were...entangled.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, she is,” Jonathan chimed in, addressing the man before him in his usual haughty manner, “Professor…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hidgens,” Henry nodded at the man, looking him up and down, “Henry Hidgens.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan scoffed, “So you’re the one who’s spirited away my Lucy for some sort of ‘secret experiment’.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens nodded as Lucy cringed inwardly at the words ‘my Lucy’.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It must be quite the endeavor,” Jonathan went on, before leaning in somewhat threateningly, “Something to be shared with the rest of the world.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy felt her heart twist at the notion, “We can’t, Jonathan!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan scoffed and shook his head, “And why not?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way she was going to be able to get Jonathan away from this unless she came clean. Jonathan had connections she relied on, and if she was going to continue her endeavors in Hatchetfield, she figured the best option was to tell him the truth.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor,” she turned to Hidgens, “Let’s show him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Professor’s responding look was more than skeptical, but she could see recognition of sorts cross his gaze. He nodded and gestured for Jonathan and Lucy to follow him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Jonathan and Lucy silently followed the Professor through the house, she watched as Jonathan’s eyes scanned over the ornate appearance of the house, almost gawking in the way she had when she’d first walked through it. Of course, the building itself seemed to rival most of the homes they’d seen with their upper-crust associates in England.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So…” Jonathan began, his voice filled with venom, “You say you’re a Professor? A Professor of what, exactly?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m a biologist,” Hidgens answered, not looking back at them as he led them down the hallway, “I teach courses at the local college, but I’m currently on sabbatical for this project in particular.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A project?” Jonathan’s eyebrows were raised, he turned to Lucy with a condescending look, “Lucy mentioned when she told me that she’d be here a while, that you were hard at work, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was this...experiment of sorts was on.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens chuckled lightly, “I’m afraid Lucy’s secrecy was something I asked of her, Mr. Brisby. With matters such as these, one has to handle them…” he turned around and looked Jonathan up and down again with scrutiny, “...delicately.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan scoffed, “Forgive my intrusiveness, Professor. But it sounds to me like you’re simply making excuses for yourself.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jonathan!” Lucy scolded softly, unable to comprehend the fact that he was being so rude in circumstances such as these. Didn’t he have any respect for the scientific process?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, Lucy,” Hidgens held up a hand as they came to the large vault door, “It’s alright...I understand how this would all sound to someone who’s obviously not well-versed in the modes of science himself.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan’s face grew red at the Professor’s remark, but he somehow managed to remain calm and collected. He straightened his jacket and nodded at the door, “I suppose...all the answers are behind that door?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re correct, sir,” Hidgens nodded, “Although, I might suggest that unless you open your mind to the possibilities, you won’t be able to comprehend what it is that we’re doing here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan cast a small look at Lucy, as if questioning the Professor’s words before turning back to him, “I’m listening.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nearly fourteen months ago,” Hidgens began, his voice holding the usual theatrical flair he normally had, “I was conducting observations on the flora and fauna of the Witchwoods, collecting samples that I might have shown to my class once classes started back up again. You see, I have this one student who wants to be a botanist, and she-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, yes, that’s all very fascinating,” Jonathan droned impatiently, “But I hardly see how that applies here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, yes...of course,” Hidgens straightened the robe around his shoulders, “Well...my home is in a rather precarious part of the Witchwoods, you see? Timberwolves and bears have the tendency to roam around here, so I tend to keep many traps around as a means to protect my home.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan sighed and looked at Lucy, clearly losing his already wavering patience. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor, please,” Lucy implored the man, trying to keep Jonathan as engaged as possible, “Continue.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course,” Hidgens nodded, “I found something in one of my traps, that day. Something that was no bear or wolf. Something, our Lucy here once encountered many years ago, and has returned every single year since the death of the late Duke of Stockworth every year to find.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan looked at Lucy with a raised eyebrow, a look of incredulity building in his eyes as the Professor went on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“For you see, Mr. Brisby,” the Professor continued, “In that trap, fourteen months ago, I discovered the Wooly-Foot. The Hatchetfield Ape-Man.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a moment of silence, where Jonathan just blinked, his eyes filled with an unreadable expression that Lucy immediately knew she disliked. She braced herself as Jonathan began to speak, his voice filled with incredulity. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“An Ape-Man, you say?” He practically shouted, “Don’t be ridiculous!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t you be so close-minded,” Lucy retorted instantly, going to turn the handle of the door, “He’s right behind this door and I won’t have you frightening him. He’s easily startled and he’s gentle, and he’s kind…” she smiled softly to herself at the memory of Konk’s smiling face from earlier, “And he’s wonderful.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan scoffed, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had </span>
  </em>
  <span>feelings </span>
  <em>
    <span>for this...this Ape-Man!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy found herself taken aback by the remark.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Did she have feelings for Konk?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook the thought away as it wasn’t what mattered at the moment. What mattered was proving to Jonathan that she wasn’t a fool and that she’d not wasted the many cumulative months that she’d spent in Hatchetfield. She’d show him that Konk was truly wonderful and as real as he was. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she started to turn the locking mechanism on the vault door, Hidgens stopped her, a strange look in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy,” he whispered lowly, “If Konk feels threatened by this man, I can’t guarantee his safety. He makes one wrong move, this creature could tear his arms right from their sockets.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy shook her head, “It’s fine. I’ll be with him, and Konk would never do anything to hurt me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Would he?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She’d seen his face before...right? </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>And it wasn’t when she was saved as a little girl.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>It wasn’t the same face as her best friend and closest companion.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>The companion she’d missed for a very long time. </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Where was he now?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Where was she?</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She snapped out of her thoughts as Hidgens seemed to accept this answer with a curt nod before casting a suspicious glare back at Jonathan, which he didn’t notice. As Lucy pulled open the heavy vault doors and stepped inside, Jonathan followed close behind, taking in the sight of the dense foliage which lined Hidgens’ greenhouse. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy inhaled and exhaled deeply, searching the plants for Konk with a soft smile on her face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk!” she called, her voice somewhat echoing throughout the space, “I’ve brought a new friend! Come meet Jonathan!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At the sound of her voice, Konk emerged quickly from the trees. As his eyes landed on Jonathan, however, something like a scowl crossed his gaze briefly and he looked at Hidgens, who was leaning in the doorway with a puzzled expression. It didn’t last long, however, as he sauntered up to Jonathan, standing up on his legs at his full height as he sized Jonathan up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Me Konk,” Konk grunted, gesturing to himself, “You...John-Man.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy smiled as she glanced between the two, offering Jonathan an enthusiastic grin, “Isn’t he extraordinary?!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a brief moment of silence as Jonathan looked between her enthusiastic smile and Konk’s face before going a shade of bright red, “Why that’s a man! That’s obviously a naked man!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s where you’re wrong, friend,” Hidgens chimed in as he sauntered up beside them, his arms crossed, “I’m a biologist! You think I wouldn’t know if that were a man?! He only </span>
  </em>
  <span>looks</span>
  <em>
    <span> like a man.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Professor shaved him.” Lucy nodded, trying to explain the existence to convince Jonathan even further. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, well,” Jonathan scoffed, “That’s rather convenient.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He had to,” Lucy explained, “To treat Konk’s wound and…” she turned to Hidgens, knowing there was something else he mentioned in the treatment of Konk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Apply ointment to his skin,” Hidgens nodded, “He had a rash...all over his body.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy nodded before looking over at Jonathan, who was still not convinced.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t see any wounds or a rash!” Jonathan exclaimed a scowl on his face, “What I see are two obvious charlatans!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a moment where he just stared at Hidgens and leaned in, glaring at the man, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but it’s gone on long enough!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before Lucy could protest, Jonathan turned and started walking towards the door, grabbing her arm and pulling him with her “Come along, Lucy! We’re going back to England at once!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Konk moved quickly to stand in front of Jonathan before he could pull Lucy any further. His eyes void of all the gentleness Lucy knew him to have, sending a shiver up her spine, “Let her go.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Konk started to beat his chest as he rose to his full height. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk, no!” Lucy cried. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Quickly, Konk stopped, his eyes softening at the sight of Lucy’s fearful face. Jonathan sneered up at him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not afraid of you,” Jonathan laughed, “You stupid man.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk not man!” he insisted, staring furiously down at Jonathan, “Konk animal!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan snickered, “Well, Konk...I hunt </span>
  </em>
  <span>animals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jonathan!” Lucy protested, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she tried to wrench herself free from his firm grip.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Konk leaned in, his eyes fixated on Jonathan’s intently. For a moment, Lucy could have sworn she noticed some sort of human playfulness and competition in his gaze, but it was snuffed out by his words. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We will see,” he began, “...who hunt who, John-man.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it, you two!” Lucy cried, wrenching herself free of Jonathan’s grasp, “Just stop it!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan turned to her with an incredulous look on his face, his voice a dangerous and confused whisper, “Lucy! What’s the matter with you? These men are liars…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You don’t know that!” Lucy exclaimed, feeling rage, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, come pouring out of her, “You’ve always looked your nose down at me! But I know with every fiber of my being that Konk </span>
  </em>
  <span>is </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Ape-Man that saved me when I was a little girl.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan looked like he was about to protest, but she cut him off as she continued her rant, “And if you love me...If you have any affection for me at all, you’ll at least </span>
  </em>
  <span>try </span>
  <em>
    <span>to see him the way I do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan sighed and looked down, his eyes filled with some slight disbelief, “Lucy...I will humor you for the time being, but when you come to see the truth…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That was it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy couldn’t take it anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of people telling her she was a fool.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of people laughing at the ‘poor, little, traumatized Duchess of Stockworth’.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of people spreading rumors about her hitting her head when she fell out of that tree all those years ago.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of people smearing her parents’ names for the way she was raised. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of people saying she had an overactive imagination.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Years of people telling her that her parents would be ashamed if they saw what she’d become. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, she wasn’t going to take it anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not from anyone, and certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>from Jonathan. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I </span>
  </em>
  <span>do</span>
  <em>
    <span> see the truth,” she glared up at him, suddenly feeling like a wild animal herself, “About him </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>about you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan raised an eyebrow, “What’s that supposed to mean.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy’s jaw was starting to hurt from as much scowling as she was doing, but it didn’t stop her from tugging off the glove of her left hand, revealing the engagement ring she’d liked to keep hidden whilst she was in Hatchetfield. It was a garish thing, a ring that looked like something wealthy women in older movies would wear, with an obnoxiously large diamond on a thin, ornate band. The fact that she’d managed to conceal it under a glove for all this time was something of a miracle. Still, she didn’t care how expensive or nice the ring was, as she began to twist it off of her finger. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing with that engagement ring?!” Jonathan asked, his eyes widening as she held it up and out over the tiled floor, “Don’t drop it on the ground! It’s been in my family for generations! Lucy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Without a single word to him, she dropped the ring on the ground, the clink as it hit the tile bringing her some slight form of satisfaction as she stormed off.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy!” Jonathan called after her as she practically stomped through the hallways, not turning back to look at him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Quickly, she made her way up the stairs and into the room Hidgens had given her, the ornate bedroom decorated with old, victorian floral wallpaper, depicting white poppies and moonflowers. Downstairs, she could hear the front door open and shut, indicating that Jonathan had probably stormed off too, probably trying to shoot something to cool his head off.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t care. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sat down on her bed, staring out the window as grey clouds threatened to herald in a storm. She fought against the tears of anger that were brimming in her eyes. She’d wanted so badly for Jonathan to believe her. To realize the error in his ways of looking at her like she was the biggest fool he’d ever encountered every time she brought up the Wooly-Foot.  And yet, he’d reacted like everyone else had, even when the proof was standing right in front of him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She glanced down at her left hand. The finger was now gloriously void of the large engagement ring that had made her feel like she was chained to a future of unhappiness. Somehow, she didn’t feel relief or freedom at the lack of it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What had she just done?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Had she made a mistake? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No matter, she couldn’t bring herself to care as of right now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What mattered is she knew she was right. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And nobody, not even Jonathan Brisby, was gonna make her feel worse about it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date: May 18th, 2019</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” John began, “Where are we at?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander looked up from the notes Hidgens and Emma had sent him from the lab earlier on in the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Their conditions are all steadily declining,” he sighed, hating the way that his words illustrated their </span>
  <em>
    <span>desired </span>
  </em>
  <span>outcome, “We should have them all at that point within a week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Miss Holloway nodded, “Then we can start discussing the process by which we can get everyone in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander wasn’t sure what he thought of the woman. She’d been present for a little less than a week and had already provided them with more answers than they thought they needed. Still, what information she provided was valuable and he was grateful that they had someone who was so well-versed in the world of the Black and White on their side, providing them with so much more information than he thought necessary. Still, it was good that they had someone as powerful as her on their side since everyone else they had was out of commission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sipped at the chamomile tea she’d made earlier, fascinating Xander. In the six days she’d been there, she’d explained that she was some form of corporeal spirit, placed at some sort of halfway point where the dead could walk the earth as if they were a living person, explaining that only a witch as powerful as Willabella Muckwab, or Hannah, as it turned out, could have done something like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t exactly an open book. A lot of her personal life whilst she was alive was kept secret, as well as her first name, which she said: “no longer mattered since she was no longer alive”. She had, however,  in the days before, told them a little bit about her partner, as well as what she had done to get them both marked for death by Webby, the Lords in Black, and their Emissary.</span>
</p>
<p><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>“His name is Douglas Keane,” Miss Holloway sighed as she pointed to the computer, ushering Xander to look the name up in the database, “Or was.”</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Xander typed the name in “Douglas...What’s his middle name?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Curt,” was her response, “Douglas Curt Keane, born here in Hatchetfield.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Xander finished typing in the name and clicked on the only response that came up on the screen. The picture was of a man, in his mid-thirties, with long hair, hazel eyes, and a kind smile. He pointed to the picture, “Is that him?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway walked around his desk and leaned in just as he did. A soft smile crossed her face as she looked at the picture, “Yes...that’s him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She walked back around the desk and sat down as he looked at the information, noticing how the birthdate was missing, as well as the fact that the man had been labeled as a missing person for…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Twelve years…” he murmured under his breath. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm?” Miss Holloway looked up at him, “What do you mean?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s been a missing person for twelve years,” Xander clarified, “Has it really been that long since you died?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “No. We went off the grid twelve years ago. You won’t find any records for me, even if you typed the name Holloway in there.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Went off the grid?” Xander leaned forward across the desk, “Why’d you go off-grid?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, looking down “Doesn’t matter anymore.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Xander sighed and looked at the smiling man on the screen. The man Miss Holloway had mentioned getting cursed by Webby for association with her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned to her, “So...if you guys went off-grid twelve years ago...then when did you die?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway looked down, a look of puzzlement on her face, “What year is it?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Honestly, Xander wasn’t entirely sure. Their precious concept of time had seemingly lost all meaning when they’d all been shoved down into the bunker. He checked the calendar on the sidewall for confirmation, “2019.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm…” Miss Holloway nodded, her brows furrowed, almost as if she were trying to recall a pleasant memory, “We died around the beginning of the reset...I died on December 25th of 2017, while Duke died a day later.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait…” John leaned forward from where he was sitting on the sofa in Xander’s office, “That’s two days after Jane Perkins died…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, “That’s correct. My battle with Wilbur Cross was always poised for the beginning of a reset. Either he died or I died, that’s how it worked.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>“And…” Xander mused, “You lost this time.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>Miss Holloway sighed and looked down, “Yep...and Duke paid the price for it.”</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a small moment of silence as Miss Holloway looked down, a regret-filled look on her face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you don’t mind my asking,” John began, “What exactly did Webby curse him with? I mean, you mentioned that he was in Nightmare Time, but you said he wasn’t a victim. You called him a...a...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A wanderer,” Miss Holloway sighed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” John nodded, “Yeah, that was it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway went quiet, inhaling and exhaling deeply as she glanced at Xander’s computer, where the smiling picture of Duke Keane stared back at her before she looked down again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I pissed a whole lot of powerful people off,” Miss Holloway whispered, “You see...Webby was the original witch. Those who supposedly have the gift of hearing her voice, or at the very least foresight are supposed to follow her. Willabella Muckwab was the first witch to follow her, Cynthia Houston was a witch who unknowingly followed her...Hannah even followed her for a short time.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head, “I followed her in my youth, but it didn’t last long. Once I realized what she was, I broke free, but not before leaving a lot of her followers died in the process.” she sighed, “I met Duke not long after, and decided to use my power to help people. Children, mostly. Children Webby would try to lure into her trap to make up for the followers people would lose...and Duke...Duke had a gift for connecting with children.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled softly to herself, “Before we went off-grid twelve years back, he was a social worker. He’d find the kids who needed help because Webby has a thing for preying on children in difficult home situations- Hannah included- and he’d call me up to see if I could save them...and most of the time I succeeded.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and shook her head, “When we went off-grid we continued to work towards helping more kids, but once Jane Perkins died, almost instantly, I knew...I knew we wouldn’t be safe anymore.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you mean?” John asked, leaning forward in his seat. Xander nodded along with him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “Out of most of the people in Hatchetfield, I and Duke are the only two humans I know of who are aware of resets. Duke only knows because I put a spell on him to help him remember, and I can because I had broken free of Webby’s coven. Once Jane Perkins died, I realized that the supposedly unsuccessful curse that Willabella Muckwab had put on the Perkins sisters was real, I knew it was only a matter of time before Wilbur was sent after me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wilbur knows of the resets too?” Xander asked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, “Only...he’s not fully human anymore. He sold his soul to the Lords in Black long ago and died to himself. He’s been dead for ages, as I’m sure you know.” she shook her head, “As the Emissary to the Lords in Black, he was sent in every reset to offer me a chance at turning back... but I refused each time and we fought as such. Half of the time, I win. Half of the time he wins...and this was one of those times.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked down, “Duke didn’t survive for long after I died. He’d witnessed it too. I told him to run, and he did... But he didn’t run fast enough.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed as she continued her story, “Wilbur brought him before Webby, knowing that I knew what was going to happen.” she looked back at the picture of Duke, regret in her green eyes, “Before letting Wilbur kill him, Webby cursed him to roam in Nightmare Time as a Wanderer...a soul who can pass through the Nightmares unwittingly, unable to change anything, unable to do anything other than what they’re programmed to do. In some ways, it’s a replication of a life he once led, but he doesn’t know he’s roaming through other people’s nightmares.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That had been two days ago when they’d been discussing and sifting through the information that Miss Holloway had given them when she’d first arrived. While there wasn’t much they might have known about Miss Holloway’s personal life, that conversation, in particular, had solidified the fact that she certainly was no friend of Webby’s and at the very least, would do anything to help them succeed in their fight against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, they were back in John’s office into the wee hours of the night, repeating what they did at the end of every single workday and monitored the progress that the victims had made in order to determine when the plan they’d made could proceed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s already been decided that Emma goes in after Paul,” John mused before looking up at Miss Holloway, “And we’re sure that this won’t have any effect on her baby?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None whatsoever,” Miss Holloway nodded, “If we get the timing right, and Emma enters Paul’s Nightmare Time just after the false Paul kills her in the dream, she’s in the clear when it comes to physical harm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” John nodded, “And Alice said she’d go in after her father?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It took some coaxing,” Xander nodded, “But once I explained to her that it was the only way to save them, she said she’d do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told ya so,” Miss Holloway smiled as she took another sip of her tea, “She loves her father too much to let him rot in a place like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Becky goes in after Tom,” John continued, “We just need to be careful of timing since...corrupt Jane wants her body, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “That’s another one of those tricky timing situations. We have to make sure we get Becky in there at a point where she and Tom are alone, and Jane hasn’t reached the point at which she can kill Becky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would Becky be able to die in Nightmare Time?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow, the notion of Jane occupying Becky’s body- especially a </span>
  <em>
    <span>corrupted</span>
  </em>
  <span> version of Jane Perkins- being something of a horror to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unfortunately yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, her voice low and her expression grave, “Why do you think I asked that we send Emma in</span>
  <em>
    <span> after</span>
  </em>
  <span> she died? The problem with Becky, however, is that Jane might actually succeed in taking Becky’s body, and then Becky will be lost with Tom in Nightmare Time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John and Xander shared a look of horror at the idea. In some ways, while Nightmare Time was described as a dimension of the metaphysical, the dangers were insurmountable. The fact that they could lose someone so easily within it was terrifying to Xander. And the truth remained that neither John nor Xander would be able to do anything about it since they never showed up anywhere in their dreams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked down, “If it were easy, this war would have been over by now...just keep that in mind, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander hated that this was the reality they’d ended up in, in which every choice was essentially life or death. In which it was up to a specific set of people, who wanted to lead normal lives to save the lives of those they loved. It was a tough call to make, especially when this war was not their own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am going after Lex, Hannah, and Duke,” Miss Holloway affirmed, “I have ways to multitask in terms of maintaining the spell that gets them into Nightmare Time while also in it myself. I am dead, so I’m not bound by moral physicality, so that actually makes it easier for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re sure you’ll be able to find all of them?” Xander asked, studying the woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded confidently, “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” John asked, an eyebrow raised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simple,” Miss Holloway shrugged, “Duke finds me first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the two men’s bewildered faces, Miss Holloway chuckled and continued, “That’s the way it was in real life. As a wanderer, Duke diverts to habit, meaning he finds the kids, and I find him. Getting to Lex will be the tricky part, but there are some extra spells I can partake in to make sure we get to her in time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Hidgens offered to get Lucy, correct?” John asked. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Miss Holloway nodded but looked down, an odd look in her eyes, “But it won’t be simple, given that the Hidgens in that dream is already occupied by the corrupt part of Hidgens’ soul. It’ll be a battle for control that I’m not sure Hidgens wants to fight.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Xander sighed. Hidgens was another matter of something he wasn’t sure he wanted to trust, but given that their only other options were either missing or in Nightmare Time already, Hidgens was their only choice. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at Miss Holloway, “Are you sure we can trust him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled softly at the ground before shaking her head, “I’m not sure…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander groaned and threw his head back. That was not the answer he wanted. He either wanted every reason to trust the professor or every reason not to, leaning more towards the latter. After what had happened before they’d been trapped in his caves, the false Hidgens had done so much to make him sick at the idea of him coming back. He’d wanted to forget that they’d ever allowed the old man onto the base in their own lapses of judgment. Then, Lex had summoned Hidgens back, and then they had allowed him to assist them once more, even with the knowledge of what the other version of him had done. For whatever reason, Xander didn’t know why they hadn’t just locked the man up in the brig and just been done with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” John asked Miss Holloway, who looked like she was staring into the distance slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smirked and turned to John, “It means that that’s something you have to decide for yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She furrowed her eyebrows for a moment before turning to glance at the clock. Xander followed her gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>11:48 PM</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How the hell had it already gotten so late?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled softly and nodded before standing from the couch, “Walk with me...I want to check up on the victims.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right now?” John raised an eyebrow before looking at Xander with puzzlement on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, walking to the door, “We need to make sure we’re there on time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On time for what?” Xander asked, confused by the whole ordeal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway didn’t answer as she stepped into the hallway silently, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked. John and Xander cast a glance at one another from across the room, a shared expression of ‘what the hell’ on their faces before standing and following her out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep up now,” she called for them, “We don’t want to be late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they caught up with her, she started to talk again, striking up a conversation like the oddness of the previous few minutes had been nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” she began, holding up a hand of perfectly manicured nails with turquoise lacquer as she recounted information, “Hidgens is getting Lucy, Alice is getting Bill, Emma is getting Paul, Becky is getting Tom, and I am getting Lex, Hannah, and Duke…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we’re missing Ted,” Xander cut in, “You mentioned that because of what Tinky’s done to his mind, it’s gonna be harder to get him out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, her dangly earrings bouncing with the movements of her head, “Yes...that’s correct.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander looked at John, who was walking on the other side of Miss Holloway. He was looking at the woman with an odd expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How difficult to retrieve him do you think it’ll be?” he asked her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very,” she nodded, “You see...in some ways, Tinky has pulled the classic Lord in Black move of splitting his favorite’s mind into two...only, this time it’s more like Ted Spankoffski is slowly being ripped away. Back before he was fully put into Nightmare Time, it was like he was at war with himself. Ted had some sort of conscious that often lost to the mind that Tinky wanted him to have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Resulting in him doing things like attacking Emma,” Xander nodded as they walked, passing into the infirmary wing of the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Precisely,” Miss Holloway nodded, “Ted’s mind is already so damaged that retrieving our Ted will be something of a major difficulty...and the fact that everyone who could access him is either dead, missing, or a Lord in Black themselves makes matters even more difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander nodded, biting down on his lower lip. Ted’s situation was definitely something of difficulty when it came to finding a solution for it. Ted, a man who liked to act as he could belong anywhere was prodigiously alone in his Nightmare. While there weren’t many details to what occurred in his dream that Miss Holloway could provide them with, there was enough to suggest that they’d have to be creative when it came to getting him out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the intersection points?” Xander asked, “The points where Paul’s Nightmare Time intersects with Ted’s?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway seemed to think about the fact before nodding, “That could work...but there are still issues with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John tilted his head, “How so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First and foremost,” Miss Holloway began, her eyes darting around as if she was calculating something complex within her mind, “Ted’s Nightmare Time is still his own. There might be some slight divergences from Paul’s timeline, which means it will probably be a while for another intersection to take place, which also means that Paul and Emma would have to wait around a little bit longer to retrieve him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander nodded, that point made sense. The fact remained that they were dealing with a matter under the power of the Lords in Black. If timelines did intersect in terms of Paul and Ted’s consecutive Nightmare Times, it meant that Emma would have to be in Nightmare Time longer than she had to be, which was something they didn’t want to impose on the woman, especially when she would still be carrying a child in the real world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Secondly,” Miss Holloway continued, “It’s like what I said about Ted’s mind. In some ways, Tinky has pushed and pulled his mind through a grate, filtering only what he wants Ted to experience through it all. This means that Tinky has practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaped </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ted’s mind to be something beyond any recognition, so if Emma and Paul were to wait around until the intersection point, it would probably mean they’d be dealing with the other Ted. The Ted with a broken mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean…” John mused, his brows furrowed as he contemplated the woman’s words, “The Ted that tried to kill Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Exactly...and that’s not even the trickiest part of dealing with Ted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander wished he could work on the caliber that Miss Holloway was seeming to function on. He couldn’t imagine anything that would be more difficult to deal with than split mindsets and timelines found within dreams...but evidently, the workings of the Black and White had a tendency to say, ‘But wait! There’s more!’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s more?” John asked, seemingly reading Xander’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded as they passed through the first set of doors that would get them to the many quarantine bays, “The Bastard’s Box.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander faltered in his steps at the sound of the name, the words ‘bastard’ and ‘box’ seeming to echo in Hannah’s voice at the back of his mind. In some ways, he knew that was the object’s name, but hearing Miss Holloway mention it in such a lackadaisical way was shocking to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean…” Xander began, swallowing hard as he realized just how dry his throat had become, “The one that we think disappeared during the portal incident?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh it didn’t disappear,” Miss Holloway said simply, “Tinky just grabbed it until he needed to retrieve Ted once more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander and John shared a look as they continued to walk through the hallway, the confusion evident on both of their faces like an ink stain on thick paper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Xander inquired, “What do you mean ‘retrieve Ted’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked down and sighed, shaking her head softly, “The Bastard’s Box is one of the most powerful relics of Tinky. He uses it to contain all of his favorite playthings...the souls of those he wants to play with, mostly. Ted, I’m afraid, was branded...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander’s mind flashed with the image of the ugly indent of a box on Ted’s hand, probably inhibiting Ted’s hand from any further use in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That burn,” he asked Miss Holloway, “That was a brand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so,” Miss Holloway nodded, “In some ways, it’s Tinky’s way of marking Ted as his own. Once Ted dies in Nightmare Time, his soul will be sent to the Bastard’s Box to be further used by the Bastard of Space and Time himself. Unlike Paul and Emma’s souls, he won’t be bound to any iteration of Nightmare Time, or the real world. He’ll just be sent back to the Bastard’s Box to be tormented until Tinky has further use of him, and there’ll be no way for us to save Ted at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander looked down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well...this certainly complicated things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” Xander asked, his voice hesitant as they came to the Quarantine Bay doors, “How do we help Ted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doors slid open and they were met by the familiar burst of cold air as they stepped into the quarantine bay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Miss Holloway sighed, “But we need to think of something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander nodded curtly as he started to scan the quarantine bay, finding every single victim in their own bed as they usually were. It was sickening how familiar the sight was. How often they found themselves in the infirmary to make sure that the people they’d sworn to protect were still breathing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded, “I agree...I believe we should prioritize Spankoffsk- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor?! What are you doing!?!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens sighed as he closed his laptop, another day of work completed for the sake of saving their friends. Well...the friends of the people he knew, not his own friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since Miss Holloway had shown up less than a week before, extensive planning was done in the name of saving each of the victims, planning each and every move carefully and according to her instruction, making sure they understood everything she’d told them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In some ways, this information wasn’t exactly new to him. He and Jane had been made familiar with the lore of the Lords in Black and the Muck-Witch during their time in Nightmare Time but never had they known just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>significant </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was to the plot they were interwoven into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of plot...he was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>out of time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He buried his face in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d exercised the whole of his time, and now he was down to thirty minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was up to him to decide who lived and who died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d told himself the day after Miss Holloway came into the picture, that he would “make the right choice” just as Miss Holloway had said she hoped he would...but she’d not mentioned the deal to anyone yet. God, maybe he was just being foolish to believe that the “choice” the witch had been referring to was the threat that Webby had presented to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless, the only one he knew for certain knew about the deal Webby had made with him, was him, and he had less than half an hour to decide whether Emma and her child lived or died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d told himself he’d come to a decision </span>
  <em>
    <span>days </span>
  </em>
  <span>before, but every time he went to look at each of the victims, he felt as if he was trapped. He felt as if the world was coming down around him, collapsing in on him and suffocating as he was forced to make one of the hardest choices he’d ever have to make.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew Webby didn’t make threats idly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was something she could make happen in order to get someone to do her bidding then she would do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Killing Emma was no exception.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that there was nothing Webby couldn’t do to get Emma killed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Webby wanted Emma dead, then she could do anything to achieve it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nowhere Emma could hide to keep herself or her child safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Hidgens simply couldn’t let them die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d made a promise to Jane that he would protect the ones she loved, which meant protecting her son, her husband, her sister, and the child they both knew Emma would soon be bringing into the world. When she’d told him that it would be up to him to protect and guide them, he knew he had to make good on his promise. He needed to keep it. He owed Jane that much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which meant he had to do what Webby asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to kill one of the seven victims. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up at the clock, and with a sickening twist in his chest, he realized how much time had passed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>11:37</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to move quickly or doom the lives of Emma and her child.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced around the room, finding that he was the only medical professional present, as they were in the middle of what they called ‘the changing of the guard’, meaning he didn’t have much time where he could do this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But...maybe he didn’t want to get away with this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once he’d absolved one of the victims of their lives, it would be mere seconds before people realized what he’d done. He’d instantly be recognized as the perpetrator and he would be taken to the brig for his crimes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that didn’t matter as long as he’d protected Emma and her baby, just as he’d promised Jane he would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started to pace around the hallway, looking at all of the victims, knowing that before midnight, there would be six victims instead of seven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and wished he could look away. Wishing that it was anybody else Webby could have picked to play God and be given the ghastly choice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it was as simple as Webby had put it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kill One or Two Die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was an obvious choice. One that meant that he had to play right into Webby’s hands, but the notion of keeping one alive while two died was illogical. But then again, it was what Webby wanted, which meant he really had to find out who it was that Webby wanted dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had every reason to want Emma and her child dead. Emma had been putting up a fight since the first reset. It wasn’t that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to piss off the Lords in Black...Emma was just a fighter who wouldn’t bend to their reign so easily. She knew better than to give in like that. And it certainly didn’t help that her partner was of the blood of Willabella Muckwab, and using the gifts that came with that against them. The notion of them having a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child </span>
  </em>
  <span>had to have been something that was scary to the Lords in Black. But...then again, if it was Emma and her baby that Webby truly wanted dead, then why bother threatening Henry with it at all? Why not just send someone to do the dirty work instead and possibly get away with it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. It couldn’t have been Emma or her child that was the real target in all of this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which meant that Webby had to at the very least have </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason to want the victims dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and grabbed two full syringes of Morphine. Not the most inconspicuous modes of murder, but it would get the job done. Again, he didn’t necessarily plan on getting away with killing one of them. He’d turn himself in as some form of atonement. God, this would have made an excellent play had it not been for the fact that this was real life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom Houston had never been a choice in this process. Just as he’d sworn to protect Emma, Hidgens had also promised Jane that he would protect her husband and son, no matter how many times the man had declared that he didn’t trust him at all. Tom Houston wouldn’t die this night because Jane loved him. Because he had another woman and his son waiting for him. Because he was a protector of their family, and they all needed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and moved on, his eyes tracing over to Paul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul would have sacrificed anything and everything to protect Emma, right? If asked to lay his life on the line for Emma and their baby, there wasn’t a doubt in Hidgens’ mind that Paul would have given his life willingly. Paul loved Emma and their child so much that he’d willingly sacrifice himself to protect them from harm...but they needed him. Like Hannah and Lex, Paul was more powerful than he knew. In some ways, they also knew that Paul was still needed to see the rest of this through. They’d need him when it came to possibly winning in their fight against the Lords in Black...if that was even a possibility for them. So, because so many people still needed him, namely Emma and their unborn child, Paul wouldn’t be the one to die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed as he realized that left him five more possibilities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five more people to choose from who didn’t deserve to die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up at the large digital clock over the doors and found his heart twist sickeningly in his chest at the sight of how much time had passed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>11:48</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had twelve minutes left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twelve minutes to doom Emma or murder someone himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gripped the syringes tighter as he started to pace around the room again. He needed to choose one of them. There was no time to waste.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah and Lex were off the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were children still. They didn’t deserve to die. Besides, like Paul, they carried the blood of the witch in their veins. Both of them possessed a gift that the world would need in the future. Like it or not, those two were some of the most powerful people to be born into the bloodline in different ways, and they would need them if they wanted to have any chance of winning in the future.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides...the fact that they were children should have eliminated them from the very beginning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which left three to choose from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill Woodward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy Stockworth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ted Spankoffski. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Brilliant.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paced over to Bill Woodward’s bed. He didn’t know the man at all. He’d had nothing personally connecting him to Bill, except for the fact that he’d occupied the quarantine bay for the previous three weeks. Thanks to Miss Holloway, they knew that he was a favorite of Blinky, which meant that maybe it would have been in their best interest to kill him. Maybe Bill was being used to the Watcher’s advantage. Maybe Bill was being presented as an innocent to get to their hearts but...Henry couldn’t find himself believing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill had a daughter. A daughter he loved very much and loved him in return. A daughter, who despite struggling to accept what had happened to her father was willing to do anything to get him back. Somehow, Henry couldn’t bring himself to eliminate the man. He couldn’t find himself wishing the man ill. And so, he moved on, looking at Lucy Stockworth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This woman, she’d come to Hatchetfield in hopes of finding something she’d been searching her whole life for. She’d come in hopes of validating childhood, albeit, very foolish, dreams. Though he didn’t know the woman all that well, the files had told him that she had nobody in her life. No family that was still alive, and a fiance who was likely dead as well. Her only friend was supposedly a Hatchetfield legend that John, Emma, Tim, and Xander had all attested to seeing, but Hidgens wasn’t sure he believed in. Despite all of this, the personality files on the woman characterized her as a sunbeam in the midst of all the darkness and cynicism in the lives that they were leading. Hell, she was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>teacher</span>
  </em>
  <span>...or a caretaker at the very least. The way she’d spent her time in the middle of the goddamned apocalypse was by taking care of children. No matter how few connections he had to this woman, she’d not done anything to deserve this fate. She’d not even deserved to be dragged into Nightmare Time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head at the realization that now he had one choice. The only choice he could make.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one to die would be Ted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned and started to move across the room to where Ted was laying, the flowers that Tim had left a few days ago already withered, making it look like the man already was a part of a tomb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Hidgens looked down at the man he was going to kill, he found his heart twisting with a mixture of disdain as well as pity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From what he’d seen in the Black and White, Ted was a sad, lonely man. A man who didn’t know how to work with his own pain, so he took it out on everyone else. The addition of Tinky had only worsened that. He knew that he shouldn’t feel bad for the man who’d practically murdered Emma and her baby before they even knew there was a baby to worry about. He shouldn’t feel bad for the man who’d acted </span>
  <em>
    <span>willingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the work of the Lords in Black when it came to trying to kill Emma and later attacking everyone with the weapon Webby had practically placed in his hand. He shouldn’t feel bad for the man he was going to kill...and yet, he found himself feeling lost at the idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ted hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be used and manipulated by the Lords in Black. To have his mind shattered upon the rocks of their wrath. To be scarred and used in the ways that he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now Hidgens was going to kill him for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens swallowed down the humanity that was welling in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he could just remember everything that this man had done, he could complete the mission, and maybe Webby would leave them alone for a little longer, giving them enough time to save the others. When he really thought about it, it was one life against the life of the other six victims and two others. It was his life against the life of the rest of the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could kill this man and know that it would save others...he hoped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up at the clock and found that he only had seven minutes to make this work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>11:53</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head and looked down at the man, unable to fight back or do anything to defend himself as he was about to be deprived of his life.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I’m sorry,” he murmured, uncapping the syringe and starting to screw it to fit inside the IV port taped into the man’s arm, “In time, I hope you can forgive me.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Maybe it was better this way.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe in killing Ted, he was saving him from a life of more suffering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all, the man was already in a great amount of pain and he’d likely never use his burnt hand again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was better for him to...stop trying to justify this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was murdering someone for Webby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was as simple as that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just about to start pushing down on the plunger of the syringe, when... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor?! What are you doing!?!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened and his heart leaped in his chest as he snapped up to see the General, Miss Holloway, and Major Lee standing near the entrance of the quarantine bay, all of their eyes on him as they took in the sight of Hidgens holding a large syringe of suspicious fluid in his hands as he was injecting it into a patient without a medical professional present. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop him!” Xander suddenly bellowed, before bolting forward and throwing aside the curtains to grab at Hidgens, undoubtedly already putting two and two together as to what Hidgens was doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Hidgens could even begin to plunge the morphine into Ted’s veins, he found himself being wrestled away from the man by both Xander and John, the both of them pulling him away from Ted and pushing him against the floor, trying to restrict any and all movement. He fought against their grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t understand!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop!” he shouted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Xander yelled before grabbing his transponder, “Rodney, we need security here immediately, and get Kamaria-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Listen to me!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hidgens was screaming, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You don’t know what you’re doing. She’s going to-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the midst of the commotion and shouting, the noise was broken by the calm, clear voice of Miss Holloway, who remained glued to her spot by the front doors. John and Xander turned to the woman in bewilderment, as if wondering what the hell she was doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing?” Xander yelled as if he were reading Henry’s mind, “He was going to kill Ted!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway looked at Hidgens, a soft look in her eyes mixed with strictness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see, but you don’t listen,” she said as she looked back at John, “He had a reason, but you won’t hear it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” John mused, his voice dangerously,  “He better make his explanation quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have time for this!” Hidgens shouted, unable to look at the clock to see how much time he had left, “You don’t understand! I don’t have enough time! She’s gonna kill her!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s eyebrows furrowed at Hidgens’ desperation, casting an odd look at Xander and then Miss Holloway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Time’s up.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Henry didn’t even get the chance to respond as a chill ran up his spine. The sound of the aforementioned ‘she’ echoing through his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tore himself free from their grasp as he whirled around to look at the clock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>11:59</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” He shouted into the room, his desperate voice echoing loudly throughout the mostly silent room, “I have time! I have time! You said-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I gave you that time under the impression our little deal would remain secret.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I said nothing!” he screamed, “I told them nothing!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Too little, too late, Henry.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Webby!” Miss Holloway suddenly shouted, her eyes wide, as if she could hear Webby as well, “Show yourself!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of the Spider’s laugh was terrifying as it echoed throughout the quarantine bay. Miss Holloway’s eyes didn’t move as she slowly surveyed the room. Hidgens couldn’t bring himself to ask if she could hear Webby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b><em>How funny, Holloway,</em></b> <span>the Spider crooned, </span><b><em>You still think it works like that?</em></b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you would still have the guts to reveal yourself,” Miss Holloway taunted, “I guess I’m to be sorely disappointed, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Spider laughed again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Have fun trying to save them, Holloway. You’ll have to explain to them why she’s gone thanks to Henry here.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, the Spider’s voice faded from the room, leaving Miss Holloway glaring at the sky before she turned to Hidgens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that was the right choice, Henry,” Miss Holloway sighed, “But did you have to wait so long to make it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-you knew?” He stammered his mind racing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knew what?!” John demanded, “What the hell is going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway turned to John, “To make a long story short, Webby threatened Henry that she would have one of her agents murder Emma and her unborn child if he didn’t have one of these victims dead by midnight tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John whirled towards Hidgens, his eyes filled with a mix of fury and horror, “Wha-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But that doesn’t matter right now,” Miss Holloway cut in curtly, “What matters is that we find Emma immediately because Webby’s gonna be sending </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> after her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why now?” Xander asked, his eyes wide, “And why Emma?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all a game to her,” Miss Holloway sighed, “I shouldn’t have to explain it to you, but as long as Webby has several people she wants dead, she can find herself in a no-lose scenario. She wants Ted gone just as much as she wants Emma gone and through playing games like this, she can eliminate one of them either way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And we need to find her,” Hidgens cut in, his voice breaking with desperation, “If Webby wants Emma dead she’ll-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was interrupted by the crackling of John’s transponder, which the man immediately answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t this wait, I’m in the middle of-” John’s face paled almost instantly, “What...? You’re certain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John,” Xander whispered, “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John said nothing to Xander before barking out a series of orders into his transponder, “Put all stations on alert. I want every soul who’s not already keeping guard at their posts to search the levels until she’s found. And I want Rodney and his squad to find Emma Perkins </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span> and stay with her until the alert is lifted. This is a Code Grey, and the subject should be considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>armed and dangerous.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Hidgens’ heart twisted as John shook, setting down his transponder before turning back to face them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Xander asked, his voice maintaining militant professionalism, “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, John was silent, his eyes filled with a grave form of contemplation before he shook his head, his voice terrifyingly quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s June.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander paled at the sound of the name, “What? What the hell happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The patrols,” John explained hastily, “The patrols were passing by her cell and found that the door had been broken in, and June was gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horror on Xander’s face was palpable as he whispered his next few words, “Do you think…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s going after Emma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Henry didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice as he whispered the words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d failed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Emma was going to die because of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As John scrambled about the room, setting off alerts through his transponder, Hidgens could only stand frozen. The sound of Webby’s laughter was echoing in his mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>It’s been fun playing with you, Henry.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill sighed as he bit into Alice’s half-eaten elephant ear. They were still sitting on a park bench after the Watch Party he’d fallen asleep in just thirty minutes before. Alice still hadn’t mentioned what the hell had gone wrong inside the building, but the fact that Bill could hear the familiar music faintly through the walls of the Drowsytown Theatre meant that everything was probably okay, and Alice had nothing to worry about.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beside him, Alice was still busy scrolling through her phone, holding it closer to her chest as not to let him see what she was seeing. Not that he cared, however, unless she was looking at unseemly pictures. Part of him wanted to scoff. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Instagram. Huh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell would Lydia allow their teenage daughter to be exposed to the world like this? He would have to bring it up on their next passive-aggressive phone call.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, Alice let out a loud groan, interrupting his mental rant. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh God, no!” she groaned. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” he asked, turning to see the perturbed look on his daughter’s face, “What now?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ziggs,” Alice deadpanned, “Ziggs is going to the party.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill had to stifle a slight sigh at the mention of the party Alice had been complaining about all day. Why did she keep bringing this up? It was one party that probably meant nothing! The only thing that would happen there was a bunch of kids getting high or drunk or whatever the hell the kids were doing nowadays with hookups out the wazoo. That was the last place he wanted his daughter to be.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who?” Bill asked, at the very least pretending to be interested at the notion of this strange Ziggs character appearing at Deb’s hookup central party which was probably not organized with parental approval.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ziggs.” Alice nodded, looking like she expected it to ring a bell with him, “Ziggy?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When Bill didn’t react, Alice rolled her eyes, “This really cool non-binary person Deb used to have a crush on,” she glanced down at her phone again and let out another groan, “And they’re bringing quiplash!!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Quiplash…” Bill mused, “Is that a friend of Ziggs, or...?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a game,” Alice cut him off, “And well-known teen aphrodisiac.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that settled all of the reasons why Bill didn’t want to see Alice going to that party.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <em>
    <span> that’s why the party is tonight!!” Alice groaned, her eyes wide with fear, “I’m not gonna be there to keep them apart...and Deb is gonna hook up with Ziggs. I just know it!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Part of Bill’s heart broke at the defeated look on Alice’s face, but he figured this was a good teaching moment. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Time to be a good father, Bill. Don’t fuck it up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, then…” he began, leaning in closer to Alice, “Maybe Deb isn’t the right girl for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At his words, Alice groaned again and rolled her eyes in frustration, “Look...Dad,” she began, her voice full of acid, “You may have let every romantic relationship you’ve ever had fall apart but...I’m committed to Deb. No matter how many problems we have.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill was slightly taken aback by the statement but merely shrugged, “I’m just saying if there are problems…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice chuckled bitterly and shook her head, holding up an accusatory finger, “The problem is...that </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>just had to get divorced. Couldn’t wait one more year.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He tried not to nod along. After all, it wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>his </span>
  <em>
    <span>fault that Lydia had walked out on him and took Alice with her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I got ripped outta school my </span>
  </em>
  <span>senior year</span>
  <em>
    <span>, and shipped to Clivesdale!” Alice ranted, “</span>
  </em>
  <span>I hate Clivesdale!</span>
  <em>
    <span> I lost all my friends! I’m gonna lose Deb, and none of it is my fault!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She buried her face in her hands, wiping away tears of anger as Bill’s heart softened at the sight. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look up at him with big eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re right,” he murmured softly, “It’s not your fault.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t. None of this was Alice’s fault. If none of this had happened, Alice would have stayed in school and been with all of the friends she wanted. Hell, maybe she would have dated someone nicer than Deb...maybe someone who was like Grace Chastity (although, Alice had mentioned that she wasn’t into nerdy prudes...and it seemed like Grace Chastity fit that bill in her mind). Alice would have been much happier if she’d been allowed to stay in Hatchetfield. If she’d been allowed to stay with him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s your mother’s fault,” he deadpanned before looking up at the towering roller coaster before them, looking for anything that would lighten her spirits, “Now… let’s go ride the tear-jerker.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Quickly and quietly, they stepped into a line that was surprisingly going relatively fast, an obnoxious teen allowing people through the entrance and seating them into the single-cars on the coaster. It was strange how groups of two people were only on a coaster that looked like it could seat about twenty per ride, and yet, the line was passing so quickly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As they stood there in line, he started to think about how the day had been. How glad he was that he’d found this idea. He made a mental note to thank Paul for helping him find out about the place. When the day was over, he’d be awarded the role of favorite parent, and Lydia’s cheating ass could suck on that for all he cared. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’d had so much fun today, hadn’t they? First, they’d been allowed into the park by that nice ticket-taker who’d gotten them great prices, then, he’d gotten them those fun hats, then, they’d ridden quite a few fun rides, such as the Eye-Drop, which had given him an excuse to buy them matching T-shirts from one of the various gift shops and then they’d seen...they’d seen…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>The stage show.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>He’d had a weird dream during it…</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>He’d fallen asleep.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>All he’d done was...</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Blink.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes and found himself standing within an old dilapidated park, the sounds of screams filling the air. His heart pounded in his chest as he quickly realized how they weren’t screams of laughter or amusement. But rather screams of terror. He searched the place, finding fresh and still drying purple paint staining the walls and fences of the park. He could see people running around, screaming and bleeding as they performed various feats. The kind of thing people would find at a circus rather than a carnival or amusement park.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he passed, however, the bruised and bleeding people who surrounded him froze, looking up at him in fear, almost curling in on themselves as he passed, wilting like flowers in tremendous heat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t control his movement as he continued throughout the park. He wanted to help them, but he didn’t stop moving past the people, pained smiles on their faces as they called out to other park-goers, as they played games under the facade of having fun, as they looked at him with fear in their lilac-colored eyes. He couldn’t stop and ask them what was wrong or what he could do to help them, though. His feet kept moving in large, loud stomps as he continued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he passed, he noticed people with bleeding noses, leaning over cans of blue paint, another person stirring it properly so that the paint would become a darker shade of purple, their eyes widening as he passed, allowing more blood to drip into the cans. He felt sick as he watched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear people muttering things under their breaths in terror as he walked past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One phrase, in particular, stuck out to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Praise the Watcher!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Blink.</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He opened his eyes, shaking away the chill that had suddenly worked its way up the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end, just in time to see the obnoxious teenager who was managing the ride hold up his hand.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Single riders?” he yelled out, “We got any single riders?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To Bill’s surprise, Alice’s hand shot up instantly, “I’m a single rider!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned to her as she practically stormed up to the ride entryway, “What?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The teenage ride-handler sighed and gestured to the two-person cart beside him, “Right this way, Ma’am.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He gently grabbed a hold of Alice’s arm, leaning in to prevent a scene from being caused, “What are you doing?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shrugged, her eyes wide, “I want out of this line.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But…” Bill began, confused why she was acting like this, “The line’s half the fun.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head and sighed, “Then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay in it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Alice broke herself free of his grip and rushed to the front of the line, he found himself pushing past several anxious people who were waiting to get on the ride. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey!” He waved at the teen to get his attention, “I’m a single rider too, but I wanna sit with her.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He pushed through the entryway as the teen held up his hands in complaint, murmuring something about how that wasn’t the way the single rider system worked, but it was too late. Bill had already pushed past a tall man in a trench coat to get into the ride vehicle next to Alice, who was very pointedly looking away from him. He blocked out the protests of the man as the vehicle started to be pulled up the coaster.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He angrily fastened his seatbelt as it started to move up before turning to Alice, “What the hell is your problem?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” she sighed, sounding a little breathless rather than annoyed, “You wanted to sit together. We’re together.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” Bill snapped, “But I had to cut in front of someone, it was embarrassing.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, you’re embarrassed?” Alice laughed in a manner that was eerily similar to her mother, “You could have waited another twenty seconds for the next car!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I wanted to be with you!” he tried very hard not to shout, “That’s the whole fucking reason we’re here…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She said nothing, suddenly going very pale as the coaster car continued to ascend, the park below stretching out. Her knuckles were practically white from the way she was gripping the safety bar before her. His mind kicked into dad mode, “What?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just…” she shook her head, her voice sounding mildly strangled, “I don’t like heights.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Oh shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then why the hell are we on the Tear-Jerker?” he asked her, his eyes going wide at the revelation, “You know it’s the tallest roller-coaster in the midwest!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cuz you wanted to ride it!” Alice whispered, her eyes squeezed shut suddenly, “I don’t even like roller-coasters!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well,” Bill began, slightly freaking out because of her evident panic, “Maybe I’d know that if you told me one thing about your-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>EEEEEEEE!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The ear-splitting sound of metal screeching against metal sent goosebumps and an unpleasant sensation up his spine as the car suddenly came to a stop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, God,” Alice whispered, her voice panicked, “What...what was that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I…” he whispered, unsure that anything he could have said at that moment would have given her comfort, “I don’t know.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t believe it. They were stopped at the top of the hill, the downward turn of the rollercoaster expanded out beneath them, four-hundred and twenty-five feet in the air. He was so focused on the panicked sound of Alice’s breathing, that he nearly fell out of the coaster himself when a loud voice came over the speaker</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Uh-oh, boys and girls!” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>the loud obnoxious voice practically shrieked, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“Blinky’s spotted some commotion down the track-a-ways! Y’all just sit tight while we work out them snooks!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad…” Alice whimpered, “Dad…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay, sweetie,” he whispered, reaching out and putting his hand over her own, “It’s just a technical difficulty. This happens all the time.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t you say…” she whispered, her eyes suddenly going wide, “That someone died on this ride?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill inwardly cursed himself for bringing it up earlier in his desperation to make conversation with her. Still, he shook his head. Hoping that for once in his life, he would be able to lie successfully, “No...I don’t think so.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Alice nodded shakily, tiny tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, “Yes, you did.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, a brush of air suddenly pushed against the side of the coaster, making the whole structure swing a little bit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my God,” Alice whispered shakily, “Oh my God...why is it swaying?!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s supposed to do that,” He tried to soothe her, “It’s gotta sway a little or the whole thing would blow over.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice let a little shriek loose, “It’s gonna blow over?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before Bill could respond with anything else that would make his teenage daughter panic anymore, the sound of the obnoxious teen attendant chimed in over the loudspeakers. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Uh, hello passengers,” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>The boys' warbly voice echoed throughout the park, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“You may have noticed the ride has stopped. Please stay inside your cart with your seatbelts fastened. We’re gonna send a maintenance guy up to get you momentarily.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” Alice whispered, her voice shaky, “Come and get us? Why can’t we just ride it down?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay. Look,” he pointed to a small staircase beside them, looking for any way to get her to calm down, “There’s a staircase next to the track, we’ll just walk back down the way we came.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can't do that!” Alice practically screamed, going even more pale as she squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the safety rail with everything she had. If he didn’t know better, it looked like his daughter was going to throw up as her voice suddenly became ragged. She gripped her chest as her rate of breathing picked up, “Dad...Dad, I’m...I’m having a panic attack, I need to get down.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He took a moment to process her words before she repeated them with more urgency. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to get down!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, seeing small tears roll down his daughter’s cheeks, “Okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He glanced at their surroundings, finding that the cart was only a few inches from the small foot-wide railing which led to the stairs. He glanced back at Alice who was shaking, more tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook in her seat. Carefully, he started to unbuckle his seatbelt, ignoring the loud blare of the teenage attendant’s voice as he advised against it, standing and starting to take Alice’s hands. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BOOM!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was startled by the appearance of several dark clouds in the distance, thunder crashing and echoing throughout the park. There was now no doubt about the decision he needed to make.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck that,” he breathed as he realized how close the clouds were to them. He reached for Alice’s hand, “C’mon, Alice.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he stepped out of the ride vehicle, he reached for her hands and her eyes widened, tears rolling down her cheeks again and again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad…” she whispered, “Dad, Dad, Dad...I can’t!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We have to go now before the steps get too slippery,” he told her calmly, holding out his hands for her, “Come on.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly and shakily, he watched as his daughter stood in the ride, her seatbelt now unbuckled as she did. Her shaky, clammy hand slowly took his own as he guided her to step out of the vehicle, but when he reached for her right hand, he saw that it was clutching her phone in a death-grip.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I gotcha,” he assured her, keeping his own shallow breaths as calm as he could, “Gimme your hand. Put your phone in your pocket.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head, “It won’t fit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” he nodded, keeping himself as calm as possible, “I’ll take it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She slowly nodded and lifted her phone to Bill’s extended hand. He managed to grab hold of it and slowly bring it to his back pocket as he made a mental note to make sure she bought better shorts or jeans or even brought a small purse. However, as he moved to slip the phone into his back pocket, the phone slipped from his grasp. He managed to conceal a curse as he watched it fall, managing to hear the faint sound of it hitting the ground. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Evidently, Alice heard it too, despite her eyes being squeezed shut. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What was that?” she asked, her voice panicked. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his worry-free of his mind. He had bigger things to worry about right now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing,” he said calmly, “Just don’t look down. Look at me, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice slowly opened her eyes as he finally got her onto the staircase. Just as she did, however, another gust of wind caused the structure below them to sway gently, making Alice stop, her hands grasping his tightly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad…” she whispered, the fear making its way back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep moving,” he told her calmly, searching for something, anything, to distract her from the wind and the impending storm, “Look at me. I’m not gonna let you fall...You’re America’s next great playwright, right? Tell me about the play you’re working on?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice shook her head with an immensely nervous chuckle, “No…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It got you the scholarship,” Bill remarked, seeing that they were halfway down the staircase already, only a little over two hundred feet left to descend. They could do this, “Must be pretty good.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s…” Alice murmured nervously, her eyes staying on him as they continued to descend the “It’s about a girl...Ah!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It sounds great so far.” he nodded, doing everything in his power to keep himself calm, “What’s that girl do? What’s she been up to?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well...she moves to a new town…” Alice murmured, closing her eyes momentarily as a bashful smile crossed her gaze, “And...uh... she’s gay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Love it,” he nodded, a small smile crossing his face. They had a quarter of the way to fo.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And she-uh...she falls in love with a girl and…” Alice went on, chuckling more nervously as her hands tightened in their grip on his own hands, “And I don’t want to spoil anything, but the girl’s basically a vampire.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That sounds scary!” Bill smiled.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a comedy, Dad!” Alice shot back, her voice sounding more scared than malicious.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sounds funny!” he corrected as he continued to guide them down the stairs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But...It gets a little sad because they both die in the end…” Alice’s face softened at the idea as she looked back at him, nodding to herself, “Though, I only wrote it like that for the scholarship. The judges are suckers for that kind of thing. When I actually get it produced...I want it to end happy…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her words trailed off as she looked around and realized that they were now back on the loading platform of the Tear-Jerker. He beamed at her, feeling just as proud of her as he was the day he’d taught her to ride her bike. The day she’d told him that she’d won an award at school for creative writing. The day he’d handed her the car keys for the first time. The day she’d come out to him. The day she’d told him she’d gotten accepted into one of her dream schools. The day he’d first held her in his arms and knew in his heart that he loved his daughter more than anything else in the world.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m proud of you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled softly before looking back up at him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can…” she murmured, her voice growing more steady as she realized she wasn’t in any danger anymore“Can I have my phone back?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh…” Shit, he’d need to explain that to her. He put on as encouraging of a smile as he could manage, “We’re gonna get you a brand new one!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her face dropped and her eyes widened as she dropped his hands, “You dropped my phone?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” he murmured apologetically, “I’m sorry-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You dropped my phone?!” she repeated as if she’d not yet processed the words.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well…” He began, a little indignant at her reaction, “I was a little preoccupied…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need my phone!”  she shouted, her eyes wide as anger and sadness filled her gaze. “Deb is having a party at the lake house! I need to be liking her posts so she knows I’m watching her!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jesus Christ, Alice,” Bill shook his head at her sudden explosion, “Would you grow up?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m trying to grow up but you won’t let me!” She shouted, fury replacing her anger, “I should be at that party! Not at this shitty Disneyland knock-off! You made me come here! You made me ride that </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>ride! Why are you always ruining my life?!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked down and wiped away at the angry tears that had formed in her eyes, leaving him with a sinking, dreadful feeling as he looked at her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know, Alice,” Bill murmured after a moment of silence, her words sinking in and stinging, “I love you to the moon and back...but you make it very hard to </span>
  </em>
  <span>like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice let out something that sounded like a bitter chuckle, her dark eyes filled with tears as she looked away from him for a moment before turning back to him, “Oh...so you don’t like me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t get a chance to respond as she looked up at him with so much anger and sadness on her blank face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well...that’s fine,” she murmured, “Because...I hate you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the entryway of the ride, her fury practically leaving him a pile of ash where he stood. Part of him was furious at her for acting like a spoiled child, but another part of him was just disappointed in himself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The rain started to drizzle down as the streetlamps and light fixtures of Watcher World came to life, illuminating the eyes of the other people on the loading platform. He merely shot them a glare for staring at him as he started to make his way out and into the park, unsure of where he was going, or how he was going to get there, but knowing he’d get there all the same. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...In regards to the question in the summary of "Is it too late?"; yes, evidently it is.</p>
<p>Lucy is a wonderful woman who needs a hug and doesn't need any validation from anybody!</p>
<p>Also, Hidgens roasts Curt Mega (at least in Jonathan form...I had to cut him roasting agent Curt Mega for length reasons)</p>
<p>In addition, Miss Holloway misses Duke, and she's kinda omniscient. You don't fuck with Holloway.</p>
<p>As of rn, John and Xander are very confused but they're trying their best to lead and keep everyone together and I am here for it.</p>
<p>Well...at least Hidgens never killed Ted? (But, God, at what cost?)</p>
<p>Sorry for the cliffhanger!! <br/>("In other news, Webby is still a bitch. Back to you, Dan." "That's AMAZING, Donna!")</p>
<p>Bill is trying so hard to be a good father (sorry this section was so long, but Watcher World has a lot of plot points to work through)</p>
<p>Also...what is it that he's seeing?</p>
<p>Please leave comments and/or kudos if you would like, or feel free to ask me questions about this chapter. I'm always down for talking about this fic, or any of my others!! Again, I am so sorry this one ended up being as long as it was, I truly am working on cutting the length down, but with this arc, it's kinda tricky.</p>
<p>Okay...shameless self-promotion time!! There's an AU I've posted three works (all oneshots, don't worry ;) ) for already, that I'm really proud of for Droid23, and it is a Bonnie and Clyde AU!! I, personally am very proud of this AU, and I really don't want to sound arrogant or anything, but if you like my work, feel free to check it out (of course, only if you want to! Please don't feel pressured to check it out or anything!)! The series is called "The Most Dangerous Couple in the Midwest", and I just felt like sharing, because again, I am very proud of it.</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!! Please remember to take care of yourselves, and if you celebrate Easter (or any other holidays around this time that I'm unaware of in my own ignorance), please have a wonderful week! Please stay safe, happy, and healthy, and I'll see you around the next chapter!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Empty Stares from Each Corner of a Shared Prison Cell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Xander, John, and Holloway process Hidgens' deal before a familiar face shows up bringing a bad omen.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay! So sorry that this one took forever to finish! I don't know why it did, but it did, but now it is finished!! It's also still very long and I'm sorry for that, but I hope you enjoy!!</p><p>The name for this chapter title comes from the song "Nothingman" by Pearl Jam.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Mentions of murder, attacks, guns, blood, Ted is a horny bastard</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> The week following the wedding had been pure bliss for the newlyweds. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For Paul, however, it had been a mixture of miserable and awkward.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d known that even the false version of himself wouldn’t have wanted to do something grandiose for a honeymoon, especially not when Emma and 23 were still in the wake of house hunting, hoping to get out of their noisy apartment complex soon, so instead of spending a great deal of money on a vacation for their honeymoon, 23 and Emma had rented a lake house at Starry Cove for the week, relatively isolated from the rest of Hatchetfield, just spending time together and enjoying the fresh marital bliss that they’d enjoyed. And Paul was there to watch all of it, which...went about as well as anyone would have thought. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But thankfully, the honeymoon was over and 23 eventually had to return to work on Monday, meaning Paul would get to return to the office for several hours of watching 23 work on statistical analysis and avoid Ted, just as he had done.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And so, Paul had watched as 23 kissed Emma goodbye in the morning, and the imposter was off, returning to work. All the while, Paul was being dragged along. He was forced to watch and listen, unable to do anything else as 23 awkwardly waved to Sylvia from the top floor, as she was wrestling with blueprints in her arms talking about nailing an office door shut into a phone she had balanced between her shoulder and ear. Though the conversation Sylvia was having was odd, it didn’t seem to phase 23 as he made his way through the office and took a spot at his cubicle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul sighed and leaned back, watching as 23 operated the computer that had once been his and set to work, only haphazardly listening to a conversation Bill, in the next cubicle over was having over the phone, using a tone of voice that Paul recognized as reserved for talking to Lydia, Bill’s ex-wife. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed as he watched 23 start to work, typing out the usual statistical analysis that always managed to get done, but never was printed off and turned in, and somehow he found himself being sad.  </em>
</p><p><em> His life had been just </em> this <em> before he’d fallen for Emma.  </em></p><p>
  <em> How dull had it been? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How much time had he wasted at this dead-end job, typing things up day-in and day-out without aspiring for anything else? </em>
</p><p><em> God, before he’d realized how head over heels he was for Emma, he’d not wanted </em> anything <em> in life.  </em></p><p>
  <em> As he watched 23 work, Bill finishing up his conversation with Lydia, he realized how much happier 23 was than him. Paul had always seen himself as some sort of everyman. A kind of man who’d never be able to accomplish anything...not that he wanted to. But for some reason, 23 looked happier than Paul had ever felt in his life just simply typing at this computer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now that Paul thought about it, he’d never found happiness for himself until Emma showed him how. In some ways, he knew happiness was up to him, and Emma definitely contributed to that happiness, until she’d shown him how to live. Until she’d shown him how to live life to the fullest.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And now that life was taken from him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was another one of those sad, sickening reminders that his life was no longer his own. That he’d be doomed to spend the rest of eternity following a carbon copy of himself around as he lived his life with the woman he’d once hoped would be his wife. In some ways, he’d like to pretend that maybe he was watching his life play out with himself. That he was just watching himself live the life that he’d wanted, should Emma want it too...but one look at the blood that would permanently stain his work suit, and the tattoo on 23’s wrist would forever prove him wrong, a painful reminder that this had been stolen from him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was snapped from his thoughts as Bill practically slammed his phone down on the desk, “Marriage is such a crock of shit!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 shifted somewhat uncomfortably at the comment, which Bill noticed before smiling at him softly, “It was a lovely ceremony, by the way, congratulations, Paul.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 nodded in thanks before tilting his head and gesturing to Bill’s phone, “Was that Lydia?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed and nodded, leaning back in his chair as the usual rant regarding his ex-wife continued to make itself known. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yep...I tell you, Paul,” Bill sighed, “You think you know somebody but when the ring goes on that finger, all the secrets start coming out…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Bill started to recount everything that had happened in his own marriage, Paul started thinking about the wedding and what Emma had told 23.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not Emma Perkins, and I never was.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  He still wasn’t sure what to make of that conversation. Granted, Emma was a very unpredictable person, but identity theft? That just...that wasn’t her. He couldn’t understand why, but he knew somehow that this was Emma...or some iteration of her. But he knew her tells when she was lying and she wasn’t...so what did it mean? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> It meant that she wasn’t <em> his </em> Emma.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He didn’t know how or why, but there was something wrong. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something was... <em> off. </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This wasn’t the Emma he’d fallen in love with. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> The Emma he’d walked through the end of the world with several times.  </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> The Emma he was…wait. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This wasn’t right. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This wasn’t where he was supposed to be.  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was snapped free of his thoughts as 23 responded to whatever it was Bill was preaching to him about. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well...that’s not gonna happen to me and Emma,” 23 nodded, his face determined and self-assured as he glanced at the picture of himself and Emma that they’d taken after they’d gotten engaged he had on his desk, “Emma and I don’t keep sec-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stopped, his eyes widening slightly as he definitely thought of the wedding, just as Paul had...and possibly the secret he’d been keeping from Emma since he’d replaced the real Paul, “We only keep secrets when we have to…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed and turned back to Bill, “But those secrets will not affect our lives going forward…” he murmured quickly, “She promised.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And what about you?” Paul murmured begrudgingly, “What about what you’re keeping from her?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course, he knew 23 couldn’t hear him, but it was still a valid question. It pissed Paul off to no end that 23 hadn’t worked up the guts to tell Emma the truth about himself. If Emma could do that for him then surely 23 could do the same. At the very least, the truth was something Emma was owed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “All I’m saying is…” “You better have a warranty on that fan, because one day, the shit’s gonna hit it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, you’re gonna have one shitty ass fan on your hands.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul sighed, knowing how Bill’s opinion on marriage had definitely been skewed after the messy divorce that had made seeing Alice something of a difficulty. Of course, despite how much Paul didn’t like 23, he knew that this was not the encouragement he was looking for. It was good advice, of course, but not the kind of advice the one coming back from his honeymoon needed to hear.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 managed a small smile, nodding in thanks at the advice, “Thanks, Bill,” with a small, awkward sigh, 23 stood from his chair and looked at Bill“Well...I’m going to the Java Cafe. You want anything?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill looked confused, “Not Beanies?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 chuckled, shaking his head slightly, “I’m married to Emma now,” he explained with a slightly disgusted face, “I’m never going to Beanies again, it’s terrible.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Coward,” Paul murmured in a dead voice, just finding some reason to insult his murderer as he found himself dragged to the elevator, following 23 as he left in search of coffee.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As 23 made his way outside, they were greeted by the warm sun of the early morning. Most everyone was already at work, so the streets were mostly bare. 23 inhaled and exhaled deeply, smiling softly to himself as he started off in search of caffeine, Paul trudging behind him unwillingly. As 23 turned the other way to go to the Java Cafe rather than Beanies, Paul spotted something ahead of them that he wasn’t expecting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was Emma...only...something was different. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wasn’t she wearing a different shirt today? He knew it was her day off, but she’d said she was gonna stay home the whole day rather than be out and about. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But that wasn’t it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was something...different about Emma. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul couldn’t place it entirely, but there was something about the sight of Emma that filled him with an unfamiliar warmth...something he’d never felt when he looked at her. If he had to compare it to anything else, he would have compared it to...familiarity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Whatever this unsettling but strangely wonderful feeling he was experiencing was, 23 didn’t seem to be off-put by the sight of Emma as she walked. Why did she look so lost? And what was with the beat-up duffle bag she was hauling with her? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 never seemed to ask himself these questions as he moved to catch up with her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!” He called, a smile on his face, “Hey...Emma!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She turned around, a confused look on her face as her eyes finally settled on 23, “Yeah?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 grinned as he finally caught up to her, not noticing the lack of recognition on Emma’s face. But Paul noticed. There was something in the way Emma didn’t relax at the sight of 23, as she normally did, or the way she didn’t get that small glint of light in her eyes that she usually had when he came home from work that indicated to Paul that something was definitely off. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Unfortunately for 23, he didn’t notice this as he smiled at Emma and leaned in to press a sweet kiss to her cheek, a fond smile on his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Baby…” he murmured, pushing back a strand of her hair as she watched him in weird bewilderment as he leaned in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could plant a kiss on her cheek, however, he was pushed away by her hands, a disgusted and shocked look on her face. Paul watched as she stumbled away from 23, her eyes wide.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whoa, whoa!” she shouted, holding up her hands to keep him at arm’s length, “Back off, man!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry!” 23 immediately apologized, going red. His eyes were wide with confusion as he studied her, “I was just...giving you a...kiss?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What is your problem?!” she practically shouted in an accusatory tone.  </em>
</p><p><em> Watching this interaction, Paul could only think one thing; </em>what the hell was going on?</p><p>
  <em> Emma had never acted this way around Paul when he was alive. Hell, the only time he’d ever seen her act like this was around...complete and total strangers. Specifically creeps in the coffee shop.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could think any further on the matter, a few passerby’s took notice of the commotion. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Excuse me,” a burlier man in a neat button-up shirt walked closer, his eyes carefully looking at Emma and 23, “Is everything okay over there?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” Emma shouted, her eyes wide as she continued to stare at the audacity of 23, confusing him even more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-Yes!” 23 stammered, clearly unsure of what the hell it was that he was supposed to be doing, “Yes, it is.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, it is not!” Emma shouted, moving away from 23, the look of shock and slight fear on her face making Paul wish he could have immediately told 23 to back off. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s okay, sir…” 23 nervously tried to assure the much brawnier man as he stalked over to meet them, “Emma...you can stop kidding around now.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Get your hands off me, pervert!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whoa,” 23 held up his hands in defense, his eyes filled with shock and confusion, “Whoa, whoa!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> More people started to gather around at the commotion, collective glares at 23, who looked like he had no idea how to react to what was happening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey,” the burly man from before commented, “Back off, buddy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am. I am,” 23 held up his hands, very obviously trying to remain calm despite not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do, “If I could just explain…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why don’t you explain away from the lady,” the man cut in, glaring at 23. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t…” 23 murmured, his voice failing him, “I don’t know why she’s doing this...Emma…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How do you know my name?” Emma’s eyes widened, anger and disgust crossing her gaze as she looked at him, “Who are you?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Paul watched the look on Emma’s face shift, he felt the warm sense of familiarity again...as if there was something he didn’t understand that was drawing him to her, even when she acted like she didn’t even know his or 23’s own faces.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Because this was <em> his </em> Emma. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This was the Emma he loved. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> The Emma he needed to get back home to. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Very cute, Emma,” 23 murmured, looking like he was internally begging Emma  to break away from whatever sickening joke she was playing, “Very funny...ha ha ha….” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clearly, she didn’t think this was funny. As she continued to stare him down, 23 shifted awkwardly looking down, murmuring a slight, “I’ll see you at home,” before taking off down the street. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even as Paul was dragged off, hearing Emma shout at 23 to stay away from her, he wished with everything in his whole being that he could turn back and look at her. Maybe one more glance would explain why he suddenly felt this pull towards her...maybe one more second of just taking in her face, and he’d be able to explain it...even if it hardly made sense to him. Still, 23 ran in fear, not wanting to appear like the creep those who’d passed by them had thought. It was clear that the carbon copy of Paul was confused beyond all imagination. To be honest, Paul couldn’t blame him. Something strange was going on with Emma, and it didn’t make sense.  </em>
</p><p><em> It </em> was <em> Emma that they had seen...so why didn’t she recognize 23? Her husband?  </em></p><p>
  <em> And even worse, why did Emma act like she didn’t know him when normally she was so receptive to any domesticity 23 displayed towards her?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While a more bitter part of Paul wanted to tell 23 that it served him right for stealing his life away, he too was only confounded further by the problem. It failed to make sense to him. The longer he thought about it, even as they made it back to CCRP, the more he found more reasons to worry.  </em>
</p><p><em> It had looked as if Emma had </em> no idea <em> who 23 was to her.  </em></p><p><em> And now that he thought about it, she’d looked </em> lost. <em> Like she hadn’t been in Hatchetfield for the longest time. </em></p><p>
  <em> Even after he’d returned to CCRP, 23 was unable to do anything else successfully for the remainder of the day. While he’d started off on some of his newer weekly reports, the man who’d murdered Paul mostly just stared at his computer blankly as if he were still trying to contemplate what the hell had happened. Hours passed, and for a moment, it looked as if 23 was contemplating calling Emma, but he’d set his cellphone down, clearly not wanting to indulge in an office-wide drama that would catch everyone’s attention, instead waiting for the end of a dreadfully long day before he could go home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It looked as if 23 were a puppet being dragged home, kind of like the way Paul felt. His face never lost the confused look that he’d worn since the confrontation with Emma. In some ways, Paul felt like he understood the confusion. After all, he too had witnessed the confrontation, but he figured he would wait until they’d get home to the apartment to see what Emma had to say on the matter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once 23 finally had made it through the loud and noisy hallways of their small apartment complex, he paused for a moment, inhaling and exhaling sharply, as if he didn’t know what to expect from the inevitable conversation, before finally turning the handle and stepping inside their apartment.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost instantly, they were met with the scent of something wonderful, Emma standing over their small stove. Once again, she was wearing the shirt he’d seen her wearing in the morning, as well as a skirt that fell to her knees. Paul sighed slightly as his eyes fell on her, despite all of the confusion that he was feeling about what had transpired earlier in the day, she was still so beautiful. Of course, he had to remember that he technically had feelings for another man’s wife when he thought about it...but he couldn’t deny how much it hurt to know that he would never get the chance to experience coming home to her like this   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She turned around when she heard the door open and almost instantly, her eyes lit up, differing greatly from the blank lack of recognition that she’d looked at him with earlier on in the day. She smiled brightly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hi,” she grinned as he slowly made his way into their makeshift kitchen, “I got a bunch of stuff today to try out some of those recipes in that vegan cookbook Zoey got us. Come try this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She held up a spoonful of what looked like some sort of soup before 23 leaned against the counter, looking at her up and down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What is your problem?” he asked, his voice sounding more hurt than angry.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma looked taken aback for a moment, confusion in her eyes, “What? We talked about going vegan, remember? Good for our bodies, good for the planet…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not talking about that,” 23 shook his head, not entirely meeting her eyes, “You humiliated me today...why? Why would you do that?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma murmured, putting the spoon down and looking at him, the confusion in her eyes making it clear to Paul that she was telling the truth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now 23 was somewhat aggravated, “Do you think it’s funny...to embarrass me? To scare me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma’s frown deepened, “How did I embarrass you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I’d say it’s pretty embarrassing to be called a ‘pervert’ in public,” he sighed and shook his head, “Right in front of the building where I work, thanks for that.” </em>
</p><p><em> Emma’s eyes widened after a moment, “Wait...you saw </em> me <em> today? By your work?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” 23 said slowly, nodding along like he couldn’t believe her ignorance, “Now you’re gonna act like that wasn’t you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was another moment of silence before Emma grabbed 23’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye, making 23 shift uncomfortably in the way he had when she’d yelled at him earlier. </em>
</p><p><em> “Paul,” she whispered, her voice serious and low, “This is very important. Did you see </em> me <em> today or someone who </em> looks <em> like me?” </em></p><p>
  <em> Paul didn’t know what to do with the question as 23 shifted somewhat uncertainly under his wife’s intense gaze.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think hard,” Emma prompted, tightening her grip on 23’s shoulders, her voice somewhat breaking as she didn’t break his stare, “Are you one-hundred percent certain it was me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 paused for a second, looking at Emma like he didn’t completely understand the question.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He nodded, “I’m pretty damn sure. Yeah...it was you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma sighed and let go of 23’s shoulders, lifting a hand to her head as she started to move aggravatedly around the kitchen, “Goddamnit.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 looked like he was going to ask her what was going on, probably asking for answers that both he and Paul wanted, but she cut him off with another curse. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shit!” she almost shouted, “What a pain in my ass!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For some reason, Paul felt as though he missed a crucial part of the conversation as Emma started to storm through the apartment, grabbing shoes and her purse. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Apparently, 23 felt the same as Paul as he watched his wife, the confusion on his face becoming something that would probably be permanently cemented into his expression with as much as he’d had over the course of the day, “What...what are you doing?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m going out,” she sighed begrudgingly before stopping in the kitchen and looking at him, “Do you happen to own a gun, by chance?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No…” 23 blinked before he finally processed what it was that she’d asked him, “No!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul didn’t understand what the hell he was witnessing as Emma sighed and shook her head, moving over to the knife block that Bill had gotten them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fine…” she sighed, “I’ll just take one of these knives that your friend Bill got us. I mean, it sucks to use one like this, because they’re so nice, but they’re the only knives that are clean.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed and gestured to the dishwasher as well as the sink, which had a stack of a few plates in it, as she put the large carving knife in her purse, “Paul, could you at least do the dishes while I’m out?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Out where?” 23 asked, looking like he just wanted some clear answers as she started to make her way to the door. He followed her with wide eyes, “What- what are you going to do?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t ask me that, Paul!” Emma snapped, “You’re not gonna like the answer, so don’t ask!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed and her eyes softened, looking as if she regretted the yelling. She slowly made her way over to Paul and cupped his jaw with a soft look, “Listen...you’ve clearly had a hard day, I’m sorry for that.” </em>
</p><p><em> She shook her head, looking like she knew the exact reason </em> why <em> 23 had a difficult day, and like she was cursing it, before smiling softly up at 23, “Just...relax. Have some dinner, play your video game...I’m gonna go take care of things…” </em></p><p>
  <em> Paul wasn’t sure he wanted to know what those ‘things’ were, but everything about the conversation he was witnessing indicated that something was most definitely off. For starters, when he looked at Emma now, he no longer felt that warm pull. He no longer felt that sense of familiarity.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And he didn’t understand why. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And then I’ll come home,” Emma went on, taking 23’s loosened tie in her hands and played with it, “And we can...I don’t know…” 23 blushed as Emma looked up at him with a suggestive smile, “Get a little sexy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence as 23 looked down at Emma, his concern melting away as a small smile crossed his face. He shook his head, “Emma...you know just what to say to make me feel better.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” she nodded with a sweet smile, “I’m your wife.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, she pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet and pressed a gentle kiss to 23’s lips that made him blush before breaking away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ll see you later,” she smiled, before turning and leaving, Paul watching her as she went.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something about that whole conversation didn’t strike well with Paul, and the fact that 23 had let it go so easily only made it worse. He watched as 23 shed his blazer, throwing it in the dry cleaning basket before sitting down on the couch, rolling up his sleeve to look at the number on his wrist, the only factor that distinguished him from the real Paul. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “When are you gonna tell her?” Paul mused, knowing his murderer couldn’t hear him.  </em>
</p><p><em> 23 and Emma had only been married for a week, and already he felt like there was so much that they were </em> still <em> keeping from one another, and what Paul knew about 23 was no exception. He watched as 23 gently traced over the faint number on his wrist, before turning to his left hand, where he fiddled with his wedding band, a small smile and contemplative look on his face.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Paul didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he could tell that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, the sound of an impatient knock at the door caught 23’s attention. He quickly rolled his sleeves down again only just enough to conceal the tattoo, before going to the door to find Emma again, tapping her foot anxiously as he opened the door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You forget your key?” he asked with a soft smile before Emma sighed and pushed past him into the apartment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23 didn’t seem to think anything was wrong. But Paul did. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He noticed that she was wearing the same thing she’d been wearing at the fiasco on the street earlier….and that same warm pull that he had towards her was back...as if he had a better feeling about her than he had before. He couldn’t explain it as she paced around the apartment, her eyes wide and looking like she was pissed off to no end. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Look,” she breathed, standing close to 23, looking like she was going to fight him, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m gonna get some answers.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 23’s eyes darted around the room, looking like he had no idea what she was trying to say, “Okay…?” </em>
</p><p><em> “I wanna know,” Emma began, holding out an accusatory finger, looking like she was a gritty detective on a dramatic cop show, “Why the </em> hell <em> people think we’re married. I wanna know why everyone says I work at someplace called Beanies...I wanna know-” </em></p><p>
  <em> She cut herself off as her eyes widened again, looking around the apartment living room as he caught sight of the various pictures that she and 23 had hung up on their walls since they’d moved in together a little over a year before. Several candid shots of them hiking together, eating lunch at some random diner, kissing, smiling. All of the happy pictures that the real Paul had never been in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As Paul studied the expression on her face morph into confusion, he suddenly found himself coming to a harrowing realization.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt stupid for not realizing it before...but the differences in clothing, the way she seemed to bounce between knowing 23 and not, the way that she was staring at the pictures, the story Emma had shared the day of the wedding, the questions she was asking… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If someone out there in the world could look and act exactly like him, then it wasn’t so far off to suggest that someone could be the same for Emma. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He had seen two separate Emmas. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> And if he was guessing correctly, this was the </em> real <em> one. </em></p><p> </p><p><b>This was <strike>his</strike> Emma.</b> <b>  </b></p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> He needed to wake up. </strike>
</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: May 19th, 2019</p><p>End Day</p><p> </p><p>Xander’s head was spinning as he paced around the quarantine bay, looking at Hidgens as he stared at the ground. He felt like screaming, but professionalism and the fact that <em> someone </em> in the scenario had to keep a cool head kept him from doing so.</p><p>God, what the hell had just happened?</p><p>He and John had just been discussing the future possibilities of saving all of the seven victims when she’d wanted to check on them one last time, and suddenly...there they were in the quarantine bay, just in time to see Hidgens holding two large syringes of what he’d instantly identified as morphine over Ted’s still body. Judging from the look on Hidgens’ face, it wasn’t to ease Ted’s suffering or pain. </p><p>Yes, they’d managed to get the syringes away from Hidgens and it hadn’t looked like the man had even started to pump Ted’s veins with a dose of morphine that would have surely killed him, but apparently, that had only caused more problems which had led to the horrifying revelation that Webby was forcing Hidgens to kill one of the seven victims or she would kill Emma and her child.</p><p>And now June was on the loose.</p><p>Fucking great. </p><p>“How could you keep something like this a secret?” He asked, biting back against the accusatory tone he wanted <em> so badly </em>to use with the man.</p><p>“She would have gone back on her word if I said anything,” Hidgens murmured mournfully, looking down, his eyes filled with dread, “She would have had Emma dead sooner...I thought...I thought-”</p><p>“Well, you thought wrong,” John sighed, “Do you have any idea why Webby wanted you to kill one of them?”</p><p>Hidgens shook his head, “Honestly, there are so many different reasons why she’d want <em> any </em> of them dead when you really think about it.”</p><p>“And she never gave you any indication if she wanted a particular one of them dead?” John asked, pacing around the room, the fury in his eyes clearer than anything else.</p><p>“No,” Hidgens shook his head, “She told me that I had to kill one-”</p><p>“Or two would die,” Miss Holloway finished, speaking from where she was sagely staring at Ted.</p><p>Hidgens nodded slowly, “Yes...and I made the promise-”</p><p>“To Jane,” Miss Holloway turned on her heel, and pivoted to look at them more clearly, “You promised her that you’d protect her loved ones, including her sister...Webby knew this...and therefore she knew that Ted would be the one you’d choose.”</p><p>Xander sighed and turned to Miss Holloway, “If you knew about this deal, why didn’t <em> you </em> say anything?”</p><p>Hidgens turned to her, his eyes wide, “That’s right...you said…”</p><p>“I knew that a deal was made that determined the fate of someone among you,” Miss Holloway spoke clearly, unmoved by John’s evident frustration or Xander’s confounded nature, “I didn’t know any specifics. I also know that it was a bargain made by the original witch, which wouldn’t have done much if I tried to intercede.”</p><p>“But still,” John fumed, “You could have said something.”</p><p>The woman simply shook her head, “No...I couldn’t have. It’s like Hidgens said...one word of the deal gets breathed to anyone and she breaks the terms of it all...as she has now.”</p><p>“So what?” John sighed, “We’re supposed to let someone die?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Holloway sighed, walking over to Henry, “We’re supposed to save them.”</p><p>“Save Emma,” John murmured, “I sent Rodney down to her apartment with a few other guards. They can get her to a secure level. If it’s truly June we’re dealing with...”</p><p>“Then any measure of your security won’t keep her,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “Webby knew this, that’s why she picked her.”</p><p>“Picked June?” John asked, his eyes widening, “You mean June’s been a part of this the whole time?”</p><p>Xander’s eyes widened, suddenly making a connection where he’d been trying to make one since Miss Holloway had shown up. </p><p>This had been the very thing that they’d been discussing the day that Miss Holloway had walked into their lives. </p><p>“Since the February seventh attacks,” Xander breathed, “That’s it, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I don’t know for sure,” Miss Holloway sighed, “But I’m assuming that’s where it happened. With all of the distractions occurring on that day-”</p><p>“It would make sense if Webby or Cross got to her,” Xander finished, “We were entertaining the idea when you showed up.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded and turned to John, “Whatever happens, we cannot let Emma die.”</p><p>“No shit,” Xander murmured bitterly, praying with whatever he had that Emma would be alright. That Rodney would find her and then she’d be taken somewhere safe while they dealt with June. </p><p>But...in dealing with June...they’d likely have to do something neither of them wanted to face.</p><p>Miss Holloway seemed to read his mind and her gaze softened, “You know what must be done if you truly want to protect Emma and her child?”</p><p>Xander nodded, “Yes.”</p><p>John sighed and looked down as if he understood the meaning and instantly didn’t like it.</p><p>The truth remained that they all had a history with June, long before she’d tried to have them killed in some kind of intricate power play.  Before she’d tried to have them all killed, she’d been their friend. One of their most loyal soldiers. A person they felt they could trust with nearly anything...which was hard to come by in businesses such as theirs. </p><p>The fact that she’d violated that trust broke their hearts, suffice to say. </p><p>Xander was furious when he’d found it to be true that June was responsible. That in their absence, she had taken something that had meant so much to them. Something that they’d sworn to protect with their lives and honor for as long as they lived.</p><p>And she’d taken that and crushed it with her ambition. </p><p>When they’d come back from Hidgens’ caves PEIP had been in such a state of disarray it had taken hours of John and Xander’s work trying to get it back into order, making sure that they could still sustain themselves while uprooting whatever it was that June had put in place to subjugate Hatchetfield refugees. In some ways, it made it even more difficult to perform transitions of power, but thankfully, most people in PEIP were grateful that John and Xander were proven to be alive...but it could be maintained that everyone on the base knew how dangerous June was.</p><p>If there was anything that they’d learned in their experiences with June, it was that she never went down without a fight. If they confronted her outright, someone was going to die, and they couldn’t afford to let it be them.</p><p>Xander sighed and shook his head.</p><p>How had it all come to this?</p><p>Had the world really fallen so much that it was beyond redemption in some of the people they trusted most? Was it the chaos unfolding in the world outside that compelled the remainder of humanity to lose its mind? </p><p>Xander didn’t know the state of the rest of the world. Hell, he didn’t know the state of the rest of America, since they were still working on getting their communication systems back online to check to see if there were any other survivor pods. After all, they couldn’t be the last ones alive, could they? Statistically speaking, he didn’t see it possible. When he thought about it, they were just a small group of people from a small town in America. Their population was near insignificant to the rest of the world. Surely, there must be other pods of survivors out there somewhere. Or...on a more disheartening note, had the Lords in Black just felt it necessary to torment Hatchetfield while the rest of the world watched? Again, that didn’t seem likely, but Xander wouldn’t have been surprised if the mess had simply been limited to America, at the very least. John had mentioned that in previous resets, America had been one of the easiest places for the Lords in Black to corrupt, hadn’t he? Sadly enough, this didn’t surprise Xander, </p><p>Miss Holloway shook her head, “I wish I could tell you where to find her, but I can’t.”</p><p>“Why not?!” John demanded, “Emma’s life depends on it!”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed and looked down, guilt in her green eyes, “I wish I could say that’s how it works, but it isn’t...my powers in psychic energy were powerful whilst I was alive, but now that I’m dead…”</p><p>“They’re different,” Hidgens finished, “The only way she knew about Webby’s threat was through her gift.”</p><p>“Though,” Miss Holloway sighed, “I didn’t know you’d wait for that long to make your choice. Procrastination is warranted only at particular times, Hidgens.”</p><p>“This was a matter I didn’t want to indulge!” The Professor stood, fury in his face, “Do you think I <em> wanted </em> to kill any of them? Do you think I <em> want </em>Emma to die?”</p><p>John sighed and shook his head, and Xander could tell how much he was beating himself inside. </p><p>John took it as his responsibility to know everything and anything about what was happening on base. If he didn’t know about this deal...even if he lacked the abilities to read other people’s minds or have <em> any </em>inclination that would have led them to understand that this was going to happen one way or another, he would take it as his responsibility. It was one of John’s fatal flaws in the regard that he felt like he had to preside over everything and anything that went remotely wrong was his fault. If something were to happen tonight to Emma...he’d carry that guilt for the rest of his life, and Xander knew it. </p><p>“We can’t let Emma die,” John said after inhaling and exhaling deeply.</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, “If we lose her, we’re going to lose Paul as well...and likely Ted.”</p><p>“What?” Hidgens glanced up, “I-I thought…”</p><p>“That Webby didn’t have any actual reason for wanting Emma dead?” Miss Holloway asked, sounding unsurprised as she shook her head, “I’m afraid not.”</p><p>“How?” Hidgens asked, pacing around as he ran a hand through his silver hair, looking like it might turn white at any second from the pure stress on the usually serious and dramatic face of the man.</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “You don’t understand, do you?”</p><p>When Hidgens didn’t respond she began to pace around, gesturing to Paul as she went, “If we lose Emma...we have no way of reaching Paul in Nightmare Time. If Emma dies, Paul’s plane of existence within Nightmare Time as a dead man would be unreachable...and since Ted is likely going to die at an intersection point, Emma won’t be able to reach him either, meaning we lose them both.”</p><p>“And what happens to them, then?” John asked, his voice low as he looked at the ground, “What happens if they die in this world while they’re still in Nightmare Time?”</p><p>Miss Holloway opened her mouth before paling, her eyes going wide.</p><p>“What?” Xander asked, fighting against the unease that ran up his spine in an unpleasant shiver, “What is it?”</p><p>“I…” the redhead stammered, “I...I can’t remember.”</p><p>John’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, “What...what do you mean?”</p><p>“I-I don’t remember…” Miss Holloway murmured, “I used to know...but I forgot.”</p><p>John and Xander shared a look.</p><p>“How…?” John asked, stepping forward, keeping a handle on his voice, “How did you forget?”</p><p>Miss Holloway opened her mouth to speak before another voice spoke for her. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Because she’s dead.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A chill ran up Xander’s spine as a familiar voice echoed through the loud silence of the quarantine bay. His hand went to his gun as he slowly turned around to face who he hoped to God wasn’t who he thought it was. </p><p>He met Miss Holloway’s eyes and saw that there was a mix of fear and anger mixed in them. Slowly, he, John, and Holloway all turned around to face the entryway to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway. </p><p>Xander felt as if his entire insides were flip-flopping within him as he recognized the sly face of Wilbur Cross standing before them.</p><p>It felt as if between himself, Hidgens, John, and Holloway, they all lacked the strength to breathe as the man stepped forward, a cruel look in his eyes. In one of his hands, he held a too-perfect granny smith apple, rubbing it against a denim jacket that looked a little small for him. </p><p>He grinned and stepped forward.</p><p>“Well, well…” he mused, his southern accent drawing out the vowels of the words, his snakelike eyes scanning over them with contempt, “There’s a whole lot of dead people in here.”</p><p> “Cross…” Holloway snarled, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>The man snickered and shook his head as he stepped forward, “Now, that ain’t no way to greet an old friend.”</p><p>Miss Holloway simply shook her head, chuckling bitterly, “You’ve got a funny definition of the word.”</p><p>“You wound me, Holloway,” Cross grinned as he held a hand to his chest, before lifting up the collar of his jacket, “Thanks for the jacket, by the way. It’s a little small and needed a few pins but...it suits me better.”</p><p>Miss Holloway’s lips curled back in a snarl that Xander wished he had the ability to concoct, but before the woman could launch herself at him, he voiced one of his main questions.</p><p>“Why are you here…?” Xander spoke through grit teeth, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Wilbur shrugged, his eyes filled with contempt, “Wanted to see what all the fuss is about. You know, the Lady in White has definitely been plannin’ this for a while…” he clicked his tongue as his eyes landed on Miss Holloway, “Though, I must say, it was <em> shocking </em>to hear you were back.”</p><p>Miss Holloway clenched her jaw as Cross continued to pace around them, seemingly circling them like a vulture as he inspected the skin of the apple.</p><p>He chuckled and shook his head, “The number of dead people whose help you require, John...no wonder everyone else keeps dyin’.”</p><p>He tossed his head in the direction of Paul, “That one’s worse off, huh?”</p><p>Nobody dared answer as he continued to stare at the victims, his eyes tracing over them as if he were planning how he could drag them all away. He clicked his tongue as he passed by them when finally he stopped in front of the Foster sisters. Xander’s hand was now fully on his gun, and from what he could see, John’s hand was near his holster. </p><p>Cross made a tsk-ing noise as he turned and looked at them, shaking his head, “Damn shame what they’re goin’ through...but maybe you’ll rest easy knowin’ its a truly noble cause they’re dying for.”</p><p>“Noble?” Miss Holloway murmured bitterly, “Falling victim to a trap of their own mind so the one who pulls the strings can wield the power?”</p><p>Cross smiled creepily and shook his head, “They’re simply serving the name of two things this world has been deliciously devoid of since its genesis.”</p><p>Xander chuckled bitterly, “And what are those?”</p><p>Cross threw his head back in laughter, his deranged voice crescendoing through the eerily silent quarantine bay. Mentally, Xander was wondering where all their medical staff and potential backup had gone, but he knew it was in vain. Whenever Cross appeared, it was usually because he wanted you alone, and he had them alone. </p><p>“Devotion and Unity,” the man crooned, “Through a group of powerful beings.”</p><p>“You say ‘devotion’,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “I think you mean zealotry.”</p><p>Cross shrugged in a lackadaisical gesture that made Xander want to vomit, “Can there be unity in any other way?”</p><p>Nobody said anything, but they could only watch as Cross continued to pace around the room, his eyes still scanning over the victims one by one. </p><p>Finally, Miss Holloway spoke, her voice stern as she stared him down, “Why are you here?”</p><p>Wilbur sighed and chuckled, “There really are no pleasantries with you, are there?”</p><p>“Not when I’m talking to my murderer,” Miss Holloway growled.</p><p>The viper-like man flashed her a toothy smile as he looked down at the apple. There was a moment of silence as his gaze flicked between the apple and Miss Holloway as if they were silently communicating in a way that neither Xander nor John could understand before Wilbur looked Miss Holloway directly in the eyes and sneered.</p><p>“How’s Duke nowadays?”</p><p>Miss Holloway’s eyes flashed with rage for a moment, but she somehow managed to keep it all contained as she stared at the man. In her eyes, there was hatred and rage that he’d not seen the usually cool, calm, and collected woman maintain. It was odd, seeing how much she was keeping contained as she stared him down, before finally... </p><p>“What did you mean?”</p><p>Cross hummed under his breath and turned to look at Hidgens, who was standing at the foot of Ted’s bed, a strangely confident look in his eyes as he looked at him. </p><p>“Oh...you’re still here,” Cross murmured nonchalantly, looking back down at the apple, “What did I mean by what?”</p><p>“What did you mean by ‘because she’s dead’?” Hidgens asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”</p><p>Cross looked at Hidgens for a moment, tilting his head as he watched the way the man stared him up and down before a terrifying grin crossed his face. </p><p>“Oh, that’s right!” Cross chuckled, shaking his head, “I keep forgetting you’re an ex-dead man. You’re not dead anymore.”</p><p>Hidgens said nothing as the man continued to strut around the room like he owned the place, his eyes filled with a playful form of malevolence as he finally turned to Miss Holloway, an eyebrow raised.</p><p>“You haven’t told them your first name, have you?” he asked, “As far as they know, your name is only Holloway, isn’t it?”</p><p>Xander’s mind flashed back to the way that Miss Holloway had brushed off telling them her first name, claiming that it was irrelevant to whatever it was that they were doing. He turned to Miss Holloway, whose look of fury hadn’t wavered.</p><p>“You see,” Cross crooned, stepping around them, “When you’re dead...you forget. You forget some of the key stuff that matters to you. Whether that be your name, or what happens to people when they die…”</p><p>He turned and quirked an eyebrow at Miss Holloway, “You remembered Duke’s name but you couldn’t remember his face, didn’t you?”</p><p>Xander’s mind flashed with the small look of recognition and softness that had crossed the woman’s gaze as they’d pulled up the picture of Duke, the man who’d been missing for twelve years. In some ways, now that he thought of it, the relief that had been on the woman’s face when she’d seen the image of him did make Cross’s conjecture make sense. Still, Miss Holloway said nothing.</p><p>“That’s the name of the game when you’re dead,” Cross continued, “You’re bound to the person who summoned you back...but your memories...those tend to slip away.  The only reason Hidgens is different is that he’s living again. Myself and Holloway...we’re dead.”</p><p>For a moment, Xander thought of several scathing retorts that he could give the man as he regarded them.</p><p>“Now,” Cross laughed, “That’s enough of that!”</p><p>He shook his head and tossed the apple so that it rolled in front of them, before standing taller, a cruel scowl in his gaze.</p><p>“Blood will be spilled tonight,” Cross murmured, standing still, “The Lady in White demands it. The blood of a human will be spilled and the bloodlust for this week will be satisfied for a while, but it will not be permanent...”</p><p>He turned to Miss Holloway, smiling cruelly at her, “As for you, Miss Holloway, you and I have unfinished business.”</p><p>Miss Holloway only offered him a small, dangerous smile, “And what business might that be?”</p><p>Cross laughed, “Ask yourself what the Emissary of the Lords in Black might have with a dead witch? A dead witch he was tasked with putting in a grave for all eternity.”</p><p>Miss Holloway chuckled bitterly and shook her head, “Are you asking for a rematch?”</p><p>Cross shrugged, “We can’t necessarily let the people we’ve killed go on walking the Earth...Hidgens is the only exception.”</p><p>“But you’re not gonna kill me now?” Miss Holloway asked, “You’re not gonna try and stop any chance we have at saving them in the bud?”</p><p>Cross shook his head, smirking, “The Lady in White demands a sporting chance be given.”</p><p>“Fucking bitch,” Hidgens whispered under his breath.</p><p>Cross turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “That’s not a very nice thing to say...I’d watch myself if I were you. You wouldn’t want us to go back on our word on not killing you.”</p><p>“And why keep me alive?” Hidgens demanded, “Why allow Lex to summon me back in the first place?”</p><p>The tall, greasy man clicked his tongue and shook his head, a taunting look in his eyes, “All in good time, Professor,” he crooned, “All in good-”</p><p>
  <em> “Sir!” </em>
</p><p>Rodney’s voice crackled through Xander’s transponder, making everyone suddenly go rigid, making everything seem to go still. Judging from the urgency of Rodney’s voice, Xander knew it had to be an urgent matter, but all he could do was remain still, looking at the others with a confused look in his eyes, unsure of whether or not he should answer.</p><p>His heart pounded in his chest as Wilbur finally sighed and turned towards him, a strange look in his eyes. </p><p>“Well…” he sighed, gesturing to Xander’s transponder, “Aren’t you gonna get that?”</p><p>Xander wanted more than anything to answer Rodney at this moment, but the fact remained that if he dare show any weakness at all to Cross.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John staring at him, and he sighed, making his choice.</p><p>Very slowly, not taking his eyes off of Cross, he lifted his transponder closer to his face and pressed the side button. </p><p>“Yes?” he said, “I’m here, Rodney.”</p><p>Rodney didn’t waste any time in conveying his information in an urgent manner, his voice shaky and filled with static through the transponder.</p><p>“<em> Emma’s not in her apartment.” </em></p><p>He felt as if his heart had suddenly dropped inside his stomach as Rodney’s message finally registered. John and Hidgens looked at one another with wide eyes.</p><p>“S-” he sighed, trying to get a handle on his voice to maintain professionalism, “Say again?”</p><p>There was a tense moment of silence where he met John’s eyes, the both of them looking pale as they considered the words of their agent.</p><p>“<em> Emma’s not in her apartment,” </em> Rodney said again, “ <em> She wasn’t responding to my knocking, or any attempted transponder contact so I broke the door in. She’s not here.” </em></p><p>Xander’s heart was pounding in his chest as he met John’s eyes, silently asking him for what the next move should have been.</p><p>John sighed and looked at Xander, “Tell him to dispatch any help we can. I want her found by one of ours before June finds her.”</p><p>Cross chuckled as Xander lifted the transponder to his lips, relaying the same information to Rodney.</p><p>“It’s like I said,” he murmured, a sly look on his face, “The Lady in White demands blood. And she will have it one way or another.”</p><p>Xander turned, fury in his soul, to tell the man to shut up,  but as he turned, with one final smirk, the offending man disappeared in a puff of smoke. </p><p>Miss Holloway cursed, “He was stalling us.”</p><p>Hidgens turned to the woman with wide eyes, “What?” </p><p>“He wanted to distract us,” she sighed, ‘It’s what he always does...he did it on February seventh while the bastard attacked all of them, and he’s doing it again.” </p><p>John cursed under his breath, “We need to find Emma. We have to find her and get her somewhere safe before-”</p><p>“<em> Gunfire reported.” </em></p><p>The small sound from Xander’s transponder made him freeze. It was a simple programmed response supposed to alert anyone from anywhere if there was an emergency that needed responding to. It was so small in sound, supposed to not instill panic in the person hearing it, and was mostly supposed to alert higher-level officers, such as himself and John, but just that small sound was enough to make Xander feel like his insides were flipping inside out. </p><p>He and John were pale as they met one another’s eyes, the too-calm alert being repeated throughout the room.</p><p>
  <em> “Gunfire reported in lab 32A” </em>
</p><p>Xander unleashed a shuddery breath, his hand going to his gun as John stood a little tall, Hidgens breaking the tense silence with one word that prompted them all to move as quickly as they could in the direction of the danger.  </p><p>“Emma…”</p><p>---</p><p>Sleep had been an infrequent thing for Emma in the previous couple of weeks. Most nights she’d find herself fighting against the anxiety and pain to just get a few winks of it. Half the time, the melatonin Phillipa had recommended she take hadn’t been something that worked for her. </p><p>She did sleep, yes. But it was seldomly a <em> good </em>sleep. </p><p>Part of her wished she knew ways that she could just get her brain to shut up. Between worrying about the lab work she had, the baby, and <em> Paul </em> above everything else, she found herself fraught with fear and worry as her mind seemed to talk to her at every turn, telling her that something would go wrong at any turn. That maybe she’d wake up one day and Paul would be gone for good. That he’d die before they ever got the chance to save him...before he ever got the chance to meet their kid. Then, of course, there were worries about the actual pregnancy itself. That maybe in their attempt to save Paul and the others, there would be complications and the baby would suffer on the part of it. Then again, she could have been scared of the notion of complications in general. The fact remained that Emma was in a very precarious position already as an amputee, and the fact that she’d not exactly had a <em> relaxing </em> pregnancy had to have had <em> some </em>impact on the baby’s wellbeing. While she’d done her best to keep an eye on everything and not overwork herself for her baby’s sake, and Phillipa, who she’d started seeing once a week after Paul’s collapse, claimed that the baby seemed to be developing normally, she couldn’t help but lay awake most nights, staring at the ceiling alone with her thoughts. </p><p>Thankfully tonight, the baby was mostly still, which sometimes was a blessing in terms of her own relaxation, as the baby’s late-night wrestling matches with her ribs and sometimes diaphragm was something she stayed up to, but the knowledge that the baby was moving and alive in there was something of a comfort. It was strange, sometimes the baby was still and calm, nestled on either side of her abdomen while she worked, but there were moments when she found that the child would be active, sometimes spazzing out and kicking softly in small increments, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. </p><p>It was funny.</p><p>She was already halfway through it all. </p><p>Twenty weeks into carrying this child and Paul hadn’t been there for three of them. </p><p>It was a fact that was sickening to her. She’d wanted for him to be here with her and not stuck in the infirmary with no idea of whether or not he’d wake up. She’d wanted him to be there when she’d felt that first kick. Hell, she’d gone back to the infirmary when the baby had started kicking properly to see if maybe that would bring him back to them. It was a long shot, and she found herself being disappointed, but at this rate, she was willing to try anything. </p><p>But...they did have a plan now. A way that they could get everyone back. </p><p>A way to get Paul back. </p><p>Part of her felt like it was all too good to be true. That the notion of them having a plan that would bring him back to her would fix everything. Part of her wanted to tell Miss Holloway any of the old maxims that she’d heard growing up about literally anything ‘the best-laid plans’ and all that shit, but she was forced to hold her breath and hope that she didn’t jinx anything. She felt like she was no longer in the position to take risks...even when her entire reality had just become one big risk. </p><p>Tonight, she’d been allowed to get off work early, since she’d met with Phillipa to review the baby’s progress as well as monitor Emma’s blood pressure, seeing as how she was under a great deal of stress. As per usual, however, the baby was declared to be doing well and Emma was sent home with the recommendation that she gets copious amounts of rest.</p><p>If only she found rest possible. </p><p>She tossed and turned on the bed, unable to get comfortable. With the growth of the baby bump that had occurred over the past couple of weeks, definitively showing to the world that she was indeed pregnant, she found it hard to find a good way to sleep that also seemed to agree with the baby. Tonight, however, the baby was only kicking softly, rather than being full-on active. </p><p>It was also funny how <em> used </em> to being pregnant she was becoming. </p><p>“C’mon,” she murmured, after trying what was probably the fifteenth sleeping position, “We gotta <em> actually </em> sleep tonight. Doctor’s orders.”</p><p>As if already showing rebellion, she received one final small kick, before the small sensations that had gone on intermittently over the previous couple of hours finally ended.</p><p>“Thank you,” she murmured, running a hand over her abdomen.</p><p>She sighed and turned over on her side, staring at the wall ahead of her. She’d gotten into the habit of talking to the bump as if it were a person who would talk back. Despite spending days in and out of the quarantine bay and labs, meeting with Xander, Hidgens, John, Phillipa, Kamaria, and now Miss Holloway to discuss how they were going to save the people who mattered most to them, even having time with Becky and Tim in the evenings, but somehow, at the end of the day, she still felt so lonely. It was almost as if, in the sea of people, returning home to an apartment without Paul in it felt so empty...the fear of losing him seemed to hollow her out even more. She didn’t understand why, though. She’d lived without him before. Hell, she’d lived for a while without even knowing he’d ever existed...but the fact remained that when she came home to an empty apartment, she was overwhelmed with loneliness, holding on to the fact that she had a little human being growing inside of her as the only way to think of herself as not completely alone. </p><p>She’d gotten rather acquainted with the little thing since Paul had collapsed, talking to it, telling it about herself as if it could hear her, but she also talked to it about Paul...telling the baby about how they had a father who loved them. How much she hoped that he’d come back to them. In some ways, she even told them about her fears. She didn’t think it was fair to unload all of her anxiety onto her unborn child, but it was nice to talk about them all the same.</p><p>She mentally went over what work she had to do in the lab the next day. </p><p>She’d spend most of the day running and analyzing samples while Xander would handle the statistical analysis part of it before she’d have lunch with Becky, and then she’d go to the quarantine bay to see Paul and work with Hidgens on gathering samples, and then updating their projections for when they’d have all of the victims at the brink of death.</p><p>The brink of death…</p><p>Every time she thought about how that was their marker for when they’d have their only chance to save them, she felt sick.</p><p>It felt so wrong. </p><p>Of course, it was normal for anything involving the workings of the Black and White to be something of a conundrum, only offering the most difficult of circumstances in the chance to free its prisoners, but it didn’t change the fact that it fucking hurt. </p><p>Even worse, the fact that the statistics and vitals that they monitored daily for Paul indicated that he was declining faster than the others, which did nothing to calm every single nervous impulse that she’d associated with this mission overall. She could only find herself holding her breath and biting her tongue every time Hidgens told her they had to add another medication to his regimen to try and keep him from dying faster than everyone else. It took everything out of her to hold her breath whenever she’d get a call from Hidgens in the quarantine bay...hoping with everything she had that he wouldn’t bear the news that Paul had died. </p><p>It pissed her off a great deal.</p><p>She’d never used to be this afraid all of the time. Sure, the occasional panic attack or two was normal for her, but she’d never let herself be consumed with worry like this. Just the mere thought of all the loss was enough to have her twisting her fingers in worry every single day, but she did her best to keep it contained.</p><p>She always had to remind herself that Paul was fine. That he was in the quarantine bay, surrounded by people who wouldn’t let him die. </p><p>But she had to do that often. </p><p>She sighed as she thought about the files she’d updated earlier in the day. They’d definitively found a toxin in the blood...similar to the small yellow particles that Hidgens and her had found in Ted’s blood on the day of the February seventh attacks, that hadn’t been present until after their collapses, each of them having different percentages of concentration with Xander establishing a range. They still didn’t know the complete structure as they’d determined some of the components of the toxin to be unidentified, but Miss Holloway had done what she could to confirm that this was the dormant toxin...the thing that was responsible for dragging her loved ones into Nightmare Time.</p><p>Miss Holloway had noted that because the toxin developed in concentration, they would be able to measure the progression of their physical bodies through Nightmare Time and as long as they monitored it closely, they’d be able to pinpoint the exact place where they could pull them out of it...or go in and attempt to break them free of the toxin’s control. Not that they had a one-hundred percent guarantee that it would work. All they had was the word of an undead witch from the eighties and the hope that the science they could barely understand was enough for them to succeed. All of the pessimism in her mind indicated that it wasn’t.</p><p>She sighed as she thought of the numbers she’d seen. </p><p>They’d been doing everything in their power to properly analyze all the data they’d found (reacquainting her with her old foe: math) and hope that their projections were right, and left them all in the main labs, but all she could do was think of them. </p><p>If she remembered correctly, the victims all had a specific range of toxins in their blood with Paul and Hannah being the only outliers in the data. Ideally, Miss Holloway had recommended that all of the victims be freed at the same time. That way, it would be less of a strain on her when she kept the access spell going and less of a strain on Emma and Paul since they were using the dream dimension (which Emma hadn’t accessed since the February seventh attacks) as some kind of back door.</p><p>All she needed to do was remember what she and Xander had projected and she could remain-</p><p>Wait...how many weeks did the projections say they had?</p><p>How concentrated had the toxin been in their blood today?</p><p>She sighed as the facts that she’d documented earlier on in the day were escaping from her mind. With as little sleep as she was getting and as much stress as there was, she was forgetting things a lot easier, which was never a good thing. It was mostly specific numbers, however, and everything that she’d recorded, she kept documented in the paper files that she had at the lab, and her…</p><p>She sighed when she realized that her laptop wasn’t on her nightstand.</p><p>Xander had made her leave it at the labs for fear that she would be tempted to work late into the night.</p><p>With a small sigh, Emma knew he was right. </p><p>Running a hand over her abdomen, she hummed to herself, trying to keep her mind off of the projections and test results. She could just as easily check those in the morning and gain her peace of mind then, but some part of her continued to nag away at her every single time she closed her eyes. </p><p>She sighed and cursed under her breath.</p><p>There was no other way she was going to go to sleep if she didn’t do this.</p><p>She’d gotten better at getting up and putting on the prosthetic, as long as she left it beside her bed and ignored the occasional soreness that would wave up her residual limb whenever she made sudden movements, it was never much of a problem for her to get it on. She decided she could just change into some sweatpants, leaving the t-shirt (that definitely wasn’t Paul’s ) that swam on her, as she was only going to make a five minute trip to the labs to review the data one more time, and then she’d have the peace of mind to follow Phillipa’s orders. Grabbing a long cardigan and her keycard, before apologizing to the baby internally that she was still awake and was going to be a hypocrite. </p><p>Her usual route to the labs was quieter. Almost eerie. Usually, whenever she’d go to the labs later, she’d encounter a night shift guard, who would nod as she passed, but tonight the world was silent. Blissfully and horrifyingly silent. She didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now. She just wanted to review the numbers that would get her mind to shut up and then sleep, hopefully blocking whatever horrors from their reality that wanted to make her life hell. </p><p>She sighed as she slid her keycard and the door swung open, allowing her entrance to the labs that she’d been working in for the past few months. Admittedly, with as much work as she’d been conducting in her, the tablespace of her desks and lab tables were a little bit crowded with papers and everything she needed to work on for Xander, but it was organized chaos in the fact that she knew where everything was. She walked over to the stack of papers where she kept everything she would submit to Xander tomorrow morning and started to shift through them, when she felt another soft fluttering, indicating to her that her child was not amused with the fact that she was still up.</p><p> “I know, I know,” she sighed, running a hand over her stomach again, feeling the slight sensation cease for a moment, “I’m sorry...but insomnia’s a bitch.”</p><p>
  <em> “Have you gained weight, Emma?” </em>
</p><p>Emma’s blood froze as she whirled around at the sound of a terrifyingly familiar voice. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned slowly, her teeth feeling like they were being ground down into nothingness as panic and rage filled her all at once.</p><p>June Schaeffer was standing in front of the door, looking like some weird horror movie director had gotten their hands on her.</p><p>Her dark auburn curls, which Emma could always remember being placed up in a bun with the beret of a high-ranking PEIP official, were messy and dangling over her shoulders in a frizzy mess. In her usually sharp eyes, there was a glint of madness as she grinned at her, making a shiver run up Emma’s spine. But that was nothing compared to the terror that filled her at the sight of a gun in her hand. </p><p>“Holy shit,” Emma breathed, stepping back, her back painfully pressing into the tabletop.</p><p>The ex-Colonel tilted her head, “Nice to see you too, Emma.”</p><p>“B-But…” Emma felt like she couldn’t breathe as she took in the sight of one of the most hated people she’d ever encountered in her life, “You were in the citadel-”</p><p>Schaeffer chuckled madly, her eyes wide, “That’s where you’re wrong...you see, I could have left at any time...any place…”</p><p>Emma said nothing, her hand shifting around the bottom of the lab table, searching.</p><p>“The Lady in White demands blood!” the woman suddenly shouted, her eyes wide as she looked Emma up and down, “<em> Your </em>blood.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Emma chuckled bitterly, breathlessly as she shifted around, trying to search under the table for what she’d hidden there, months before, “H-Hit up a blood drive…”</p><p>Schaeffer chuckled wildly, throwing her head back in a way that made Emma want to curse.</p><p>“You really are funny, aren’t you, Emma?” she laughed, “It’s a shame I never really got to know you...we could have been such great friends.”</p><p>Emma barked out a breathless laugh as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.  She fought to keep everything together as she felt herself panicking. </p><p>“I suppose I should offer my congratulations and condolences,” the woman went on, gesturing to the small curve of Emma’s stomach, “I’m sure you would have made a wonderful mother.”</p><p>Rage filled Emma as she looked at the woman. This woman had taken so much from her and Paul in the past months alone. She was responsible for separating their group from the rest of the survivors. She was responsible for separating her nephew from his father for so long, while the others lived under the impression that they were dead. She was responsible for dropping the earth on her, nearly killing her, and crushing her leg. She was responsible for beating Paul within an inch of his life because he was searching for the truth. She was the one responsible for nearly killing Ethan and having everyone else in their little family murdered because she was desperate to maintain control over something that wasn’t hers.</p><p>And now she was threatening the life of her child. </p><p>She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to scream at the woman, even as fear and anger filled her completely. There were no witty comebacks that she had poised for the woman, trying to get her as far away from the woman as she could or to get the woman to back off. All she knew for certain was that in this case, it was going to be her life or June’s.</p><p>No.</p><p>It was her child’s life or June’s.</p><p>As Schaeffer continued to laugh Emma’s fingers brushed against the cold metal of the weapon she’d hidden there months before, and she prayed to whatever God might have existed that it would still be loaded. </p><p>“I made Paul a promise, you know,” Schaeffer sighed, looking down at her gun, “I promised him that he’d never see you again.”</p><p>“Well,” Emma laughed bitterly as she slowly sank to the ground as the much taller woman came closer, trying to get a grasp on what she’d searched for. The disgraced Colonel didn’t seem to notice, “You’re not the best at keeping your promises, huh?”</p><p>“We’ll see,” Schaeffer tilted her head, “The Lady in White made me an offer I couldn’t refuse...have to make good on this one.”</p><p>“And what did she promise you?” Emma laughed bitterly, “What could she have possibly offered you so that you could become her errand girl?”</p><p>“I am so much more than that!” Schaeffer shouted, anger suddenly flashing in her mad eyes.</p><p>“Prove it!” Emma challenged, her breathing growing rapidly as she finally solidified her grip, “Face it, Schaeffer, you’re just her lackey!”</p><p>"No!” the woman shouted, “I am an instrument of the Gods!”</p><p>“You’re just a puppet,” Emma spat, “A puppet they’re gonna get rid of once they have no use of you.”</p><p>Schaeffer shook her head, a cruel smile crossing her face, “You have no idea what they’ve promised me...The power they’ve given me. I’ll kill you and they’ll give me gifts beyond your wildest dreams. They’ll reward me beyond imagination.”</p><p>The way the woman was speaking made it seem as if she believed every word of the madness she was spouting. Emma had seen what dealings with the Lords in Black had done with people’s minds, but she never thought it would have made someone like Schaeffer lose her mind in this regard. Although, Emma knew that Schaeffer had started to lose her mind once she’d set that bomb in the cavern.</p><p>The woman  tilted her head at her and sneered down, looking like she’d just triumphed over a major, “If I ask, I’m sure they will grant it...and once I’ve done away with you, I’ll see to it that Paul knows I’ve won.”</p><p>At the mention of Paul’s name, Emma felt something cold and painful clutch at her heart.</p><p>“I’ll make him look at your body,” she continued, holding up the gun and pointing it in Emma’s direction  “I’ll make him see what he’s lost and then watch as he crumples. The blood of you and your child will be the last thing he sees before I-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Emma didn’t even realize how fast she was moving as she withdrew the gun she’d hidden underneath her lab table after Ted had attacked her months before, and pulled the trigger. </p><p>Once.</p><p>Twice. </p><p>Three times.</p><p>Not even breathing as every bullet found its mark in June Schaeffer’s chest.</p><p>The only bullet Schaeffer had been able to fire landed inches from Emma’s head, lodging in the wood material of the drawer.</p><p>Emma couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Even as blood started to bloom on Schaeffer’s clothes and the woman collapsed to the ground, the spatters of her blood on Emma’s face and clothes. </p><p>The bullet-riddled woman didn’t say anything as she stared up into nothingness. She inhaled shakily, before suddenly, releasing, her eyes unfocused before her pupils dilated and Emma realized she wasn’t seeing anything anymore.</p><p>A shuddery breath left her as she stared at Schaeffer’s still body, and then at the gun in her hand. Of course, she’d shot the woman before, back when she was threatening to kill everyone she held dear, but this was different. </p><p>She’d just killed someone.</p><p>Emma was shaking, as she slowly put the gun down on the ground beside her, unable to tear her eyes away from Schaeffer’s body as the blood was pooling around her. A shaking hand went to her abdomen as she watched the crimson fluid stain the floor. </p><p>She knew that someone would come back to find her here, sitting by a dead woman, a gun abandoned by her side as she stared at it. Xander had implemented a program that would alert high-ranking officers to the presence of gunfire recently...right?</p><p>They’d come down here and they’d see what happened. </p><p>They’d come and they’d know…</p><p>God, why couldn’t she think straight?</p><p>Why did she feel numb and shaky?</p><p>Why did it feel like the world was spinning?</p><p>She gasped for breath, holding her shaky, bloodied hands over her stomach, where the baby was kicking softly again as if trying to tell her that it was alright. Still, she couldn’t stop staring at Schaeffer’s bloodied body.</p><p>She felt as if a wave of something she couldn’t quite identify as hot tears rolled down her face. </p><p>She wasn’t <em> sad </em>that June was dead.</p><p>No...this was something like guilt and fear and anger all at once. </p><p>This woman had done so much harm, and yet the remorse kept pouring over Emma the longer she stared at the woman’s dead body. She didn’t understand why.</p><p>God, she wanted Paul to be here. </p><p>She jumped when the door to the lab was opened suddenly, but she didn’t look up.</p><p>She could see three people’s military-grade boots, along with what looked like loafers, and a pair of highlighter-colored heels walk hastily into the room, stepping around Schaeffer’s body, careful not to step in the blood. </p><p>“Emma…?”</p><p>She glanced up shakily, the feeling of her hands shaking as she slowly saw that Hidgens, Rodney, John, Xander, and Miss Holloway were all standing there. Hidgens and Holloway were staring down at the body of the mad ex-colonel, shocked looks in their eyes as they darted between looking at her and the body in front of her. </p><p>She cursed herself internally, realizing how pitiful she must have looked. She was a pregnant amputee, covered in blood, sitting on the floor, crying without actually feeling much. It must have looked terrible.<br/>She couldn’t meet John or Xander’s eyes as she sat there, unable to fully comprehend the words being exchanged from Hidgens to Miss Holloway, or even as John gave the orders for a stretcher to be brought and people from a cleaning crew to clean up the bloody mess, but all she could do was shake and stare at the body, tears still pouring down her face. As he did, Xander knelt in front of her, his eyes filled with kindness and concern as he looked at her. </p><p>“...you okay?”</p><p>His first couple of words had been blurred out by the ringing in her ears, but as she was snapped back to reality, she found herself realizing that he was talking to her. </p><p>For a moment, she just stared at him, unable to form words.</p><p>As more people moved into the room, quickly moving Shaeffer’s body into a body bag, zipping it up, Emma shuddered, shoving the gun that lay at her side away, watching as it slid across the bloodstained floor. </p><p>“Hey,” Xander murmured, not touching her or moving forward, just sitting there with a concerned and genuine expression on his face, “Don’t look at her, Emma...She can’t hurt you anymore. Look at me. Look at me.”</p><p>With a shaky breath, Emma finally met his eyes, the tears still falling, but she couldn’t feel anything. </p><p>John knelt down beside Xander, an equally concerned look in his eyes. Emma noticed how pale the man looked as he looked at Emma, before leaning in.</p><p>“Emma,” he said calmly, “Are you hurt?”</p><p>She looked down at her bloodied hands, shuddering at the knowledge that none of it was her own. She shook her head, unable to form words at the moment. No words could have described how she felt at that moment. John seemed to understand.</p><p>“Okay, Emma,” he nodded, “We’re gonna get you to the infirmary to have you and your baby looked at if that’s alright with you?”</p><p>“We just want to make sure you’re okay,” Xander added, nodding gently, “Okay?”</p><p>Emma unleashed a shuddering breath. She felt as if she were exhausted and hyper all at once. Her eyes were stinging and a dull pain in her head had started to make itself known as she just stared at the pool of blood that Schaeffer had left behind. With a shaky hand, she wiped the remnants of the tears on her cheeks, careful not to get her bloodstained hands anywhere near her eyes. </p><p>She just wanted Paul.</p><p>But everything about what had just happened reminded her that Paul wasn’t here.</p><p>No more tears fell as she felt some part of her mind shut down, nodding along with Xander and John as exhaustion pressed down upon her. </p><p>She nodded, murmuring a near-soundless okay, as John and Xander both helped her into a standing position, one of her hands still kept on her abdomen as Xander took the lead in leading her away from the scene. </p><p>As she passed by Hidgens, he looked at her, a look of guilt in his icy eyes. </p><p>“Emma…” he murmured, turning towards her. </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Xander cast a glare at the man as she stopped and turned to him, not really possessing any will in her mind other than to stop and listen. </p><p>As she turned to the old man, he looked like he was beyond words, guilt in his eyes, though she couldn’t understand what for.</p><p>“I’m…” he started, his voice broken and tired, “I’m so <em> sorry. </em>”</p><p>Without another word, Xander continued to lead her away from the scene, murmuring soft words of assurance that she was okay and she was going to be fine. Part of her wanted to yell at him to stop treating her like she was fragile, but she couldn’t find the strength to speak as images of June’s dead body flashed in her mind. Schaeffer’s body...and horrifying images of what could have happened had Emma not pulled the trigger. </p><p>As Xander led her to the infirmary to be checked out by nurses and other medical personnel, she could only think of the response she would have had for Hidgens’ apology.</p><p>
  <em> Me too, Hidgens. Me too. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t sleep that night. </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> CCRP was mostly abandoned at this hour, with the hallways eerily silent, and even the presence of the janitors being next to nothing as Ted found himself stumbling drunkenly throughout it, trying to do Paul a favor, seeing as he had nothing better to do.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It had taken him a total of thirty-two minutes to get to the appropriate floor, since in his drunken stupor, he’d accidentally hit the wrong buttons on the elevator, taking him up and down throughout the exceptionally large building, when finally, he was greeted by the potted plant he was fairly certain signified that he was on the right floor. Then, it had taken another fifteen minutes for him to find his way to Paul’s cubicle, seeing as how they all looked the same, and in the dim light of the building itself, he couldn’t see the pictures that Paul had kept on his desk of himself and Emma to distinguish his desk from Bill’s or Charlotte’s. He sighed and cursed as he tripped over the third rolling chair this evening when he finally located the space where Paul worked.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s work station unsurprisingly was the most boring and plain station he’d ever looked at. With the exception of a few pictures of himself and Emma, as well as a planner and a cup of various writing utensils, his workspace was mostly bare. Considering that the way Ted organized everything being the epitome of organized chaos, he knew it would be a while before he found the reports Paul hadn’t printed out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ugh…” he groaned, getting more frustrated as he continued to get more and more exhausted, the vodka he’d drank at the wedding taking its toll on him, “Where are they?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he continued to search through Paul’s stuff, messily leaving some papers and pencils strewn about the desk, he couldn’t see them anywhere. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “God, Paul,” he shook his head in annoyance, “You’re fucking useless.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In defeat, he threw up his hands, “Now I gotta print ‘em out all over again!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and trudged over to his office, feeling like he was falling in and out of consciousness as he managed to sloppily type in Paul’s login information pull up the documents from Paul’s drive (secrets that he was saving for April Fools Day, or whenever he felt like bullying the man) and clicked print, waiting impatiently for the printer to finish its whole deal. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, why couldn’t this company put aside money in the budget to fix the goddamn printer system? He was fairly certain that they’d been this way since he’d started working here. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Come on!” “Stupid printer! It’s just black text! Why does it take so damn long!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m gonna be here for eighty-five years…” he yawned, settling back into his well-loved office chair, “Eighty-five years…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He closed his eyes for a brief second before opening them, unable to keep his eyes open as he found the drowsiness was stronger than he thought, Usually he was better at keeping a handle on his drowsiness until he made it home to his couch or his bed in his apartment, but as he remained there, he found his eyes were being weighed down by the weight of lead. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What’s new pussycat? Whoa-oh-oh…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was snapped back to reality by the sound of his ringtone, breaking him free of the sleep he’d been pulled into, his head feeling like it was being broken into with a jackhammer as he found that sunlight was glinting through his closed office blinds.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slowly but surely, the memories of the previous couple of days had come back to him, specifically of the several rejections he’d received on the night of Paul and Emma’s wedding </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Right,” he chuckled to himself as he realized what had probably happened, “I fell asleep.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He glanced at his watch for the date and time, and his eyes widened. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aw shit…” he murmured, rubbing at his eyes as he made sure he was reading it right, “Whoa...it’s Monday. Stupid Monday Meetings.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and shook his head, silently resolving to do what he normally did and show up to a meeting completely late. As he trudged over to the door, he reached out and turned the handle and pushed, only to show that the door was putting up a great deal of resistance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, what the hell?” he groaned as he pushed harder on the handle, jostling it as much as he could, “Come on!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still...no avail. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a heavy sigh, he started ramming his shoulder into the door with as much strength as his hungover self could manage, grunting as his shoulder began to hurt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Damn door!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> CRACK! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finally, with as much strength as he could manage, the door finally flung open and he found himself falling out into an open, pristine white hallway, as several people holding what looked like IPads turned to look at him with odd expressions.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, when had the company handed those out? He made a mental note to talk to Mr. Davidson about it later. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stood and dusted himself off straightening the nice work shirt he’d selected to wear to Paul’s wedding when he addressed the people who were still staring at him in bewilderment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry...it sticks all the time,” he explained to the several CCRP workers who were staring at him with weird expressions on their faces.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they all turned back to the weird-looking IPad things they were holding, he readjusted his tie and looked at the door to see several nails jutting out of the side of the door’s old decrepit wood.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah...so that’s why it wouldn’t open.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He made a mental note to get whatever practical joker who’d decided to nail his office door shut (possibly Bill...even if it wasn’t Bill, he’d probably be the one Ted would end up bullying back) with whatever crude joke he could play in return. Maybe he’d change Bill’s phone keyboard to autocorrect to erotic phrases whenever he typed the word ‘hi’. Regardless, some practical joker was going to get their asses handed to them when he found them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jesus...my head…” he groaned as he started for the breakroom, looking for the watercooler that would hopefully return his senses enough to him so he wouldn’t get busted for being hungover at work...again (although, it was a feat he’d gotten away with many times before). He was a little confused as to why he hadn’t seen Charlotte, Bill, Melissa, or Paul yet. Usually, they’d be on his ass about getting to the meetings on time so Mr. Davidson didn’t employ a group punishment as a means of recompense. Maybe Paul was in the breakroom, as he normally was when there were meetings he didn’t want to attend. He could say hi to him there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stumbled to the breakroom, only to find that the usual door that squeaked when opened and the crappy blinds that covered the aforesaid had been replaced with sliding frosted glass doors, with odd holographic displays on every single wall. There were a few more people he didn’t recognize, in addition to the much cleaner and modern-looking aesthetic of what had once been just a rinky-dink breakroom. He vaguely recalled Mr. Davidson talking about the breakroom getting an update, he just didn’t realize it would be so soon...and so...expensive looking. He sighed when he realized that in addition to everything new and updated that had been added to the breakroom, the old water cooler had also been removed, and Paul was nowhere in sight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Huh...where the hell is Paul?” he murmured, before finally, the disgusting image of the picture-perfect wedding appeared in his mind, “Oh...yeah. Honeymooners.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled to himself as he found another impression brewing in his mind. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How cute!” he mused, talking to himself, earning another confused look from a few more nearby people he didn’t recognize, “One of these days, Paul. Bang! Zoom! Right to the moon!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He chuckled softly and shook his head. Paul was lucky, he supposed. He was married to a hot woman, who wanted to fuck him for a solid week before returning to work. He supposed the honeymoon period was probably the only benefit of marriage...he stopped his mind from going off on that tangent as the memory of that weird dream he’d had of Jenny appeared in his mind once more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and started to make his way for the conference room, which had also received an expensive-looking update. Huh, he must not have noticed it when he’d come in there the night before when he’d gone to print out Paul’s reports.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As per usual, by the time he’d crept into the breakroom, it was probably already twenty minutes into the meeting. With more unfamiliar faces listening intently as a woman who looked vaguely like Charlotte instructing them on a holographic figure at the front of the room. She was dressed in a lab coat and was gesturing to the figure of a holographic, metallic skeleton. Ted leaned in, at the very least pretending like he understood or cared about what the hell it was CCRP did for their money. To be honest, in his many years of working at what he was fairly certain was a tech company, he still wasn’t sure what it was that they did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This synthetic life-form,” the woman was saying, her eyes fixated on the display, “Will complete the need for a human workforce.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted sighed as he looked at the display as the woman went on. Since when did CCRP use words like ‘synthetic life-form’? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It will be compliant,” the woman went on, “Efficient...and given our database’s genetic material to choose from...aesthetically pleasing as well.” </em>
</p><p><em> With a wave of her hand, the holographic display shifted so that something that looked like skin wrapped around the figure, giving it the exact shape and appearance of a normal human woman. With a start, Ted realized that the figure was the exact replica of a </em> familiar <em> woman. God, if Paul was here, he’d be losing his mind. What Ted wouldn’t have given to see the look on his best friend’s face if he were here. </em></p><p>
  <em> It was Emma Perkins. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well...he supposed that it was Emma Matthews now, but he’d ogled the woman enough to recognize her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, unable to stop the laugh that escaped him, “You guys are making a robot that looks like Paul’s wife?! Ugh...you guys are sick! I love it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head as he chuckled to himself as he thought of the conversation he and Hidgens had shared at the bar at the wedding, “I guess there is a robot you can bone.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well...it’s an android…” the science lady spoke dumbfounded, a strange look in her eyes as she blinked at him, “And...that’s not its purpose.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and shook his head as she turned to address the rest of the people in the room, looking like this had been a topic of conversation she’d had before, and was already completely done with. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you hear that everyone?” she sighed, raising a hand to her temple, “No employee of CCRP will be ‘boning’ the synthetic life form...okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Really?” he raised an eyebrow at her before she could turn back to her presentation, not believing a word of the woman’s previous statement, “Really?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay…” he leaned forward, prepared to offer his two cents on the matter, really wishing that Paul or Bill could be here so he could see the looks on their faces, “I guarantee that’ll be the first thing you guys want to do. Try to fight it all you want...but it’s human nature.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The scientist stared at him blankly as he continued. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Build it and they will come...” he grinned, nudging a nearby person- another man he didn't recognize-, “Right?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, that’s enough…” the woman shook her head, “Who even are you? What department are you from?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shrugged, “Tech support.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> From across the room, another unfamiliar man stood- Seriously, how many new people could they have possibly hired in a span of a weekend?- and shook his head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Um...no...I run the technical department,” he said carefully as he studied Ted, “And I’ve never seen him before in my life.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The scientist’s eyes widened as she turned to Ted, looking him up and down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How did you get into the building?” she asked, a mildly accusatory tone in her voice, “Scan his implant.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Ted knew what was happening, two much larger and much more sober men grabbed Ted and slammed him down on the conference table. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh...chill out dudes, I’m hungover as hell,” he stammered, annoyed that he’d already started some issues this early in the morning that there were consequences for, “You’re gonna make me ralph!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The man who claimed to have run the technical department walked over and tapped a strange device to the back of Ted’s neck, when suddenly a long beep sounded, making everyone in the room freeze before the man looked down at the device in puzzlement. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Huh…” the man murmured. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wh-What is it?” The scientist asked, leaning in to read the instrument’s readings. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It must be a malfunction,” the man shook his head before looking over at Ted with a confused expression, “It’s saying that this man has no implant.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No...that’s impossible.” the scientist shook her head, “Call security.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At her command, the two burly men who’d grabbed a hold of him started to haul Ted off of the table, pinning his arms behind him as he scrambled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What the hell was happening?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where was Davidson? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Who were all these people? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, hey! Don’t roughhouse me!” he shouted in annoyance, “I was serious about ralphing!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could protest his predicament any further, the scientist retrieved another unfamiliar device and jammed it into Ted’s neck with a loud noise. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ZAP! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And Ted’s world went black. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And through the darkness, he could have sworn he heard laughing. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...that was a ride.</p><p>Paul is a sweetheart who deserves the world. Though he is confused about what exactly is going on in his world, he knows he'll do anything to protect Emma.</p><p>Xander/John/Hidgens/Holloway, you're doing amazing sweetie.</p><p>Oh, look...it's the triple denim bastard. *And there was much rejoicing/s*</p><p>Emma misses Paul.</p><p>Oh...Emma...</p><p>June...um...wow...Ding dong the witch is dead, though, I suppose</p><p>Someone give Emma Perkins a break, please! *realizes I'm that someone*...wait...</p><p>Ted is a confused horny bastard. That is all. He may be a garbage man but he's our garbage man.<br/>(Also, rewatching Time Bastard gave me a lot of ideas for Neogenesis!!!)</p><p>Anyway, please leave comments or kudos if you would like!!! I would love to hear your feedback on this one!! Once again, I am so sorry for the long wait for this one, as well as the ever-increasing word count. I swear that it's just a by-product of this Arc and all the Nightmare Time scenes. Once we get through this the chapter word count should start to go down.</p><p>Thank you so much for reading this excruciatingly long chapter!! I really appreciate you for sticking through it and reading my work!! Please have a wonderful week and treat yourselves, others, and our world with kindness!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. My Mirror Shows Another Face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Plans change and they have a briefing</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Eyyy we're getting close to the end of this arc, although, their mission might last a few chapters...Idk</p><p>The chapter title comes from the song "Seasons" by Chris Cornell</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: toxic relationships, mental manipulation, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of abuse, mentions of attacks</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Tom didn’t know what to do with himself as he pulled away from the local bookshop, silently beating himself up for the conversation he’d just shared with Becky. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As a result of the slightly strange coincidences that had occurred since he’d gotten the car back, he’d decided it would be best to search for some of those books on psychology Jane was always talking about, hoping that he’d find answers within them about whatever it was that had occurred to ease his mind. If it was PTSD again, then he’d have to see about visiting that old colleague of Jane’s and see if there was anything he could do to make sure it didn’t impact Tim or Becky in any way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed at the memory of how he’d tried to brush Becky off, pushing away the possibilities of them seeing one another until the weekend. That couldn’t have been the nicest thing he could have said...God only knew how Becky felt.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he headed back to his home, he could only cringe inwardly at the way he’d tried to push Becky away.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “God, what the hell is wrong with me?” he sighed as he pulled back into the garage. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The remainder of the day seemingly passed in a blur. Before he knew it, Tim had ridden the bus home, Tom was helping him with his homework. They’d had a small dinner of Mac n’ Cheese talking briefly about how their days had been, and the next thing he knew, he was lying awake in bed for hours. Remembering how wonderful it had felt to wake up with Becky beside him. It had felt so amazing to know that he was no longer alone, to feel like he was loved like that. She was gentle and sweet, a balm to the world that had been so harsh and cruel to them these past few years.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a small twist in his chest, he realized that holding onto Jane’s memory was inhibiting any chance of a future with Becky that he would have liked to have. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He checked the clock on his bedside table with a groan, realizing that it was suddenly two o’clock in the morning. With another groan, he hauled himself out of bed and lumbered over to the bathroom, staring at his exhausted face in the mirror. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tom,” he sighed, shaking his head as he looked at himself in the mirror, “Tom, what are you doing? What the hell are you doing!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t know. If he were completely honest with himself it was the fact that he wasn’t doing anything that seemed to be the primary problem. In some ways, so much had happened since Jane had passed. While Jane’s death had rocked his world beyond all imagination and shattered his family, it had done something to put the already-broken pieces back together again. After all, Emma had come back after Jane’s death, bringing Tim back his aunt. And while Emma would never replace Jane in Tim’s heart, the knowledge that Emma was there had helped with the healing. Then, not too long after Emma had come back, she’d found someone and fallen in love with him. Now, Emma, rambunctious little Emma Perkins who everyone never expected to settle down in her life was now married to one of the most boring-looking men alive, who Tim was beyond delighted to call Uncle. Paul and Emma had already brought so much familial joy into their lives, sealing away some of the emptiness they’d all felt inside. He knew Jane would have been happy for them in that way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then, there was Becky. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In some ways, the times that he’d shared with her over the past couple of weeks since that fateful day they’d bumped into one another had been something of a blessing to him. Since then, he’d felt like he was whole again. She wasn’t Jane, he knew, and he didn’t want her to be Jane. Becky was Becky and that was perfect enough in itself. Since she’d come back into his life he’d been refamiliarized with feelings and emotions that he thought were buried with Jane. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a small nod to himself in the mirror, he knew what he had to do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He grabbed a small cardboard box and went around the house, careful not to wake up his sleeping son. He retrieved everything of Jane’s that he’d been too cowardly to remove from their places around the house. Whether it was a loose cardigan, or a bottle-opener from the birdhouse, photographs of her that haunted him like a ghost, he placed them in the box. He didn’t take down the ones of them as a family, after all, he would never forgive himself if he forgot what it was like to have a family with her, but he knew that if he let his house forever remain a shrine to Jane, he and Tim would never be free.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finally, inhaling and exhaling sharply, he stepped out to the garage, setting the box down and staring at the car he’d had since high school. He thought about all of the laughs he’d had in it before Jane...but after Jane, all of those memories seemed to fade away. Like the belongings in the box at his feet, the car had become less of a testament to his life, and more of a painful reminder of Jane’s death...and he had to let go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It wouldn’t be easy, he knew as he withdrew his phone from his pajama pants pocket, but he knew it would be the right thing to do. After all, Tim’s face when he’d seen the car was not one of joy. All this car did was give his son a reason to remember the worst night of his life...how selfish was it of Tom to keep it around.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yes, letting go of this car would be the best thing for everyone.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It wouldn’t be easy, he knew as he searched for the contact information of an old friend, but it was the right choice to make.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe this would be the start of a perfectly new beginning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A slow trek up the incline of healing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He waited as the sound of his phone ringing played in his ears. He didn’t expect him to pick up, not when it was two AM, but if he didn’t do it now, he was going to want to back out of it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hi,” Tony Green’s friendly voice played through the voicemail recording, “You’ve reached Tony Green’s Body Shop and Repairs. Sorry I missed your ring, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll get back to you as soon as I- Ethan, quit playin’ with that, buddy, you could hurt yourself-I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the voice recording of Tony ended with the man probably going off to keep his son from hurting himself, Tom waited for the beep, before inhaling and exhaling sharply. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Tony,” he began, unable to stop himself now as he looked at the car, ready to move on, “Hey, it’s Tom Houston. I was just thinking about what you said, and I-uh...I’m...just curious how much your buddy would pay for the Mustang.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed as the words finally came out of his mouth, making the decision seem all the odder. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Um…” he bit down on his lip, very pointedly not looking at the box of Jane’s things next to the car, “Just give me a call back whenever you’d like.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he ended the message and pocketed his phone, he found himself staring aimlessly at the car, before picking up the box of belongings and setting it off to the side. He took one last look at the car, debating covering it with the canvas drop cloth they had, but the longer he looked at it, the more he realized that looking back was doing him no good. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and turned back, setting to getting out of the garage before suddenly… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I thought you missed me, Tom.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A chill ran up his spine at the sound of the voice, making him feel like his blood had frozen over. He whirled around and only saw the car and the various assortments of clutter and boxes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello?” he called out, unable to keep the fearful shake out of his voice, “Who’s there?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence before the voice was heard again, making him flinch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Have you forgotten my voice already?” the voice echoed throughout the garage, sounding haunting and chilling him to the bone, “How many thousands of times did I whisper your name? Tom?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That wasn’t possible. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His breathing grew ragged as his eyes darted around the garage, finding only that the sound was coming from the car. But…that was impossible. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But the voice...It couldn’t be... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But, how could it not be? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His voice was barely above a whisper as he finally willed himself to words. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “J-Jane?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was no doubt about it. That was her voice that he was hearing. He’d know it anywhere. But, the woman he’d been married to for nearly a decade was dead. She was buried six feet under in the Hatchetfield Cemetery. There was nothing to reverse what had happened that horrible night, a year and a half ago.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it was her voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was no one else it could have been. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “B-but,” he stammered, unable to form proper sentences, “You’re dead.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> BEEP! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He flinched as the horn of the car suddenly honked at him and the headlights flickered as if the car itself was expressing indignance. </em>
</p><p><em> “Wrong!” Her voice spoke- coming from the </em> car- <em> and he could almost picture her annoyed expression at his lack of understanding. She’d furrow her brow and pinch the bridge of her nose, “I’m not dead Tom, I’m a car.” </em></p><p>
  <em> What the fuck? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How the hell was that possible? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This couldn’t be happening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane was dead.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane was dead and buried and there was no bringing her back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could think of any disbelieving words, all of his words failing as they reached his tongue, she- the car- spoke again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Surprise!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well...the car (Jane?) wasn’t wrong. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “I was...trying to be subtle,” she went on, and he could picture Jane’s face as she tried to explain herself,  “To give you your space...I know you startle easily. But...c’mon, really, Tom? Sell the Mustang?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah, there it was. He could almost see the look on her face as what was explanation turned into disapproval.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is nothing sacred to you?” she went on, sounding rather perturbed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This can’t be happening…” Tom murmured, his eyes fixated on the car. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This wasn’t real. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was just having...auditory hallucinations. Hadn’t he read about that in one of the psychology books he’d bought earlier? He’d make an appointment with his therapist soon. There was no way this could have been happening. All he could do was stare at the car before the sound of her voice again made him feel like he was losing it even further. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Look...I-I know you’re shocked,” she said, “I’m as shocked as you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head as the disapproval melted into her voice again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I honestly can’t believe you would sell the car in which I was driven to the hospital to give birth to our son!” she exclaimed, sounding upset and angry in a way that always prompted an exasperated response from him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I wasn’t going to sell the car,” he said quickly, defending himself as he always did when they would get into bickering like this, “I was just curious what the guy was willing to pay!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was another moment of silence as she chuckled bitterly, a typical act of jane when she was mildly displeased with something. He knew he was in for it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So...there’s a price tag on all of those memories?” she spoke, her voice sounding wounded, pulling the usual strings of martyrdom that made some parts of their marriage a struggle, “On our life together? On me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt guilt rise in his chest as she went on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re just gonna box me up and stick me in the garage with all the other shit. I’ve been gone for what? A year and a half?” she chuckled again and he could almost see the way her hands would have flown up in exasperation, “And look at how much shit has built up in here!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, unable to comprehend the fact that he was talking to her...only...she was an automobile. There was no way this was real. This had to be some strange fever dream. Had he felt sick before he’d gone to bed? No...he was fairly certain he felt fine...so what the hell was this? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “How is this possible?” he stammered, shaking his head as he gestured to the foxbody mustang in front of him, “How are you- How are you a car?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t believe the absurdity of the words coming out of his mouth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was another moment of silence broken only by her bitter chuckle once more. He could picture her crossing her arms and shaking her head at him in disappointment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Really?” she scoffed, “You’re seriously asking me that question?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence. Not an unusual one when Jane was displeased with him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her voice rose in volume as she snapped at him, “You don’t pay attention to anything, do you?” she bitterly chuckled again, “No wonder we crashed!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He flinched at the memory of that terrible night. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> FLASH! </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> BANG! </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Wait… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> This wasn’t real… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Something wasn’t right… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He’d not been home since…. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Since…the world... </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Wait… </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>“Think, Tom! You’ve almost got it!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Jane? </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Think Tom!” Jane’s sharp voice snapped him out of his stunned stupor, “What were we listening to...that night?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh…” he mumbled, unsure of what kind of response she wanted from him, “The radio?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane -the car- sighed heavily, “You don’t remember the tapes?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At his lack of a response, she sighed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We had just left your parent’s house,” she explained, her voice sounding both deliberate and annoyed whenever she had to walk him through something she felt he should understand. “Tim was asleep in the back...I put on a tape. It was an audio diary of one of my patients...he was a professor of literature. Years ago he encountered some kind of...spellbook. And he claimed it was the cause of his complete mental breakdown!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Tom could open his mouth to question the absurdity of what she was saying, she went on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And-And...I was reviewing his old notes...and he recorded himself reading some sort of  incantation from this book,” she went on, sounding like she believed every word of it, “Part of a ritual for soul transference.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence as Tom finally understood where she was going with this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “And well...I guess the ritual worked” she went on, “Because when the car hit us…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your soul…” he finished, his eyes going wide “Transferred into the Mustang?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Tom,” she responded, sounding oddly smug about the fact, “For better or for worse...I’m a car now.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence as he contemplated what she said. Part of him wanted to just go back to bed and sleep off whatever the hell his brain was doing to him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not happy about it,” she went on, “It’s been a very lonely and painful existence. All I’ve wanted is to get fixed and come home...and that girl called me a junk-heap...and...I want a new stereo!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you want, Janey,” he stammered, unable to think of anything else to say, part of him was afraid, but another larger part of him was just happy to be hearing his wife’s voice again. Happy to know that the grave he thought he’d put her in was practically empty, “Whatever you need. You’re home...I thought I lost you...but you’re home! Oh, this is a miracle, baby!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looked towards the door, eager to share the odd news with their son, “I gotta go tell Tim!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!”  Jane suddenly cut in, her voice lowered as if she wanted him to lower his own volume, “Don’t you dare!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” he raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice as well, “Why not?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think about it, Tom,” she said, he could almost picture her leaning in with wide eyes as if the answer itself were obvious, “First, Tim is told I’m dead...and now he finds out that I’m a car?! Are you trying to scar him for life?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So, I can’t tell Tim his mom’s alive?” Tom couldn’t believe this. How the hell was he supposed to keep this from the boy they’d raised? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You can’t tell anyone!” she retorted, her voice rising in pitch, “Can you imagine what people would say if they found out I was a car?” </em>
</p><p><em> She scoffed, “Oh, look at the sentient car! They would put me on display in some sort of traveling auto-show and I have </em> no <em> interest in that, thank you very much.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Hold on,” he held out a hand, gesturing to the body...her body, “So I’m just supposed to keep this a secret for my whole life?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Calm down, Tom,” she sighed, “I have a plan...but, I’m going to need your help.” </em>
</p><p><em> Something about the way she’d said the word ‘plan’ didn’t necessarily resonate well with Tom. Though, usually, Jane’s plans </em> always <em> worked out.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “C’mon,” suddenly the door opened, “Get inside...We’re going for a drive.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wordlessly, as if he was put under a spell, Tom agreed and stepped inside, before turning the keys and starting the car up, listening for Jane’s instructions about where he should go.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Evidently, it seemed that Jane couldn’t drive herself, which was something he supposed was both a blessing or a burden, seeing as how she was the biggest backseat driver he’d ever met in his life. He just still couldn’t believe that his wife...was speaking to him...through a car. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they drove around Hatchetfield in the early morning for a few hours, eventually the sun started to come up and more people started to emerge onto the streets, the morning starting to carry out as it normally did. Tom yawned as Jane continued to instruct him on where to go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright, Tom,” she said calmly, “Let’s just take it slow up here…onto Mainstreet. Slow down, let’s just cruise, huh?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they pulled past the several shops and businesses that they were passing, the open signs coming on as the morning in Hatchetfield began, he found himself thinking about the situation.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was in a car...that claimed to be his wife. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was he crazy? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> “You’re not crazy, Tom! It’s a dream! That’s not me!!” </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Look at all these people,” Jane spoke, interrupting his thoughts, “Coming and going...Look at all these women. You see them, Tom?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” he murmured awkwardly as he haphazardly looked at the people going about their own business, blissfully unaware of the possessed car passing by them </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you…” she began, her voice hesitant, “...find any of them attractive?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “N-No!” Tom’s response was immediate. Something about the way Jane was speaking made him immediately think that this was a trap.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pushed any and all thoughts of Becky as he found Jane was sighing in annoyance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay...alright,” she sighed, and he could imagine her shaking her head, “Let’s...let’s try the beach.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A few moments later, they were a little ways away from Starry Cove, where there was an assortment of lake houses, at a place Hatchetfield beachgoers called Crow’s point. There, he found himself parked by the boardwalk to see families playing in the water of the lake, some people stretched out across the mix of rocks, pebbles, and sand, and generally just a bunch of ocean-related fun in a location that didn’t have the ocean. They sat there for a few moments, him watching one particular family play as the two mothers lifted their three-year-old through the waves, their child squealing in delight as the water splashed over him. Part of his heart longed for those days when they’d been like that...in some ways, the pure joy and love on the two mothers’ faces was something he’d experienced in the days before, back when he, Tim, and Becky. He’d never felt more at home since he’d first lost Jane when that night had happened. Now, watching the two women play with their child he longed for the glee and peace that he’d felt over the course of that night. That wonderful- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “ Okay...see her? In the pink bikini?” Jane spoke, interrupting his thoughts, “What do you think of her?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh…” he didn’t know where Jane was going with this, “I don’t know…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “C’mon Tom! This isn’t rocket science!” she snapped, “Is she your type?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why not?!” Jane demanded, sounding strangely offended by his response, though he didn’t know why. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because she’s not you!” he nearly yelled back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She murmured a curse under her breath before recanting the harsh words, “Sorry...Sorry! I know you were trying to be sweet...I’m...I’m not going to get upset with you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She paused for a moment as if she were contemplating her next few words carefully. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I just...wanna know…” she began somewhat hesitantly, “Which of these women you can see yourself...er...sleeping with.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Janey!” he decided that he’d had quite enough of this. There was too much going on and not enough that he could understand, “I can’t do this! I’m in my car...at the beach...looking at all these women! I feel like-” He cut himself off so his shouting didn’t catch the attention of any passerby, “I feel like a creep.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” Jane sighed, “Do you want to go to the mall and look at women there?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I want to go home!” he called out, too tired to be dealing with this right now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay…” she sighed, sounding mildly disappointed, “I’ll make this easy for you…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence, and for a moment, Tom wondered if she was truly going to let them go home, but after a few moments, she spoke again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Look at the woman with the clipboard,” she said, drawing his attention to a woman in a green apron standing by the boardwalk, being pointedly ignored by several people passing her by, “Asking for donations.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he squinted to get a better look at the young woman, he could make out what the white letters on the front of her smock said. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You mean…” he started as he recognized the logo, unsure what Jane wanted from this woman, or from him, for that matter, “That Greenpeace girl?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes,” Jane said definitively before her voice took on a dreamy tone, “I...find her very attractive. I like her hair...I like that she cares about the environment. I bet she’s a vegetarian. I like her. I like her whole...earthy vibe! So...what do you think?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Um…” Tom stammered, unsure of why Jane was fixated on this, “I mean...she’s pretty.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So…” Jane murmured, sounding almost...hopeful, “We’re in agreement? Is there anyone else you’d prefer over her?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Um...no.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Truthfully, Tom was just hoping he would provide Jane with the answer she wanted so they could go home. He felt exhausted, having not slept a wink between deciding to let Jane go before finding out that she was, in fact, alive. Part of him was still convinced that this was all one big nightmare and he would wake up and this automobile version of his dead wife would disappear. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay! Okay! Good!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why did Jane suddenly sound so excited? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So…” Tom began, feeling somewhat dumbfounded, “What’s your point?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jake said nothing and merely hummed under her breath. Tom looked back up to the woman with the clipboard and saw that she was throwing her hands up in exasperation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh...Oh...she’s giving up, ” Jane murmured in a putting voice, “No charity here...She’s headed down the block. Probably to the Farmer’s Market. She’s smart too. I like that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As they watched the woman storm away from the boardwalk, headed back into the town, Tom saw as the gear of the car went from Park to Drive, as if Jane was ushering him to drive on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright, Tom,” Jane instructed quietly, “Follow her.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-” Tom didn't like the sound of that, but he also didn't want to question Jane again as that usually ended with him feeling like an idiot, “Okay…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Slowly but surely the car pulled forward, following the unsuspecting Greenpeace girl onto a mostly abandoned street. Tom didn’t like this at all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shh...hang back a little, Tom…” Jane murmured, almost sounding like a predator fixated on her prey. After a few moments, the Greenpeace woman must have noticed the purr of the engine, because she looked back with a suspicious look on her face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ugh...she looked back at us,” Jane murmured somewhat annoyedly before her voice took on a somewhat chatty, nervous, higher pitch, “Don’t worry, sweetie! Nothing to see here! I’m just a car...rolling along. Goin’ where I need to go!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane…” Tom murmured nervously, not liking where this was going. The look on the Greenpeace girl’s face was enough to convince him that he’d frightened the woman. He couldn’t deny the unease that twisted in his stomach. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not following you! No!” Jane went on, paying him no mind “There’s a million reasons I could be driving this slow! I could be looking for a place to park...or a specific address!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom didn’t like this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not one bit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Although the woman had turned back, he took note of the way that she’d started to walk faster, her back straight and rigid, as if she could tell that something was amuck. He didn’t like it at all.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was Jane trying to accomplish? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright, Tom,” Jane whispered, sounding somewhat menacing, “No one’s looking, speed up.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Close the distance,” Jane instructed “Now step on it!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Blindly, Tom followed her instructions, before he could even realize what he was doing. The loud roar of the engine made him jump, and made the Greenpeace woman turn around as he approached faster, nearly dropping her clipboard and running, her eyes wide in fear. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shit!” Jane cursed, her voice louder than ever, “She sees us! Quick, Tom, now!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now what!?” Tom asked, terrified of what it was that Jane wanted him to do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Run her over!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?!” Tom shouted, shock filling his veins as he realized just how serious his automobile of an undead wife was.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hit her, Tom,” Jane snapped, her voice filled with exuberance and energy, as if she were completely serious, “She’s running! Hit her quick before she gets away!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With his cry, Tom slammed on the breaks, lurching forward in his seat as he brought the car to a complete stop, watching with relief as the green smock worn by the woman his wife had wanted him to murder disappeared behind the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief, but judging from Jane’s silence, she was less than happy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dammit, Tom,” she murmured, her low curse quiet as the anger and exasperation filled her voice, making him want to flinch, but he was still in so much shock of what she had wanted him to do “I hope you’re happy! It took us all day to settle on her!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why, Janey?” Tom demanded, his voice shaky as the adrenaline and shock that he’d had from nearly killing a woman had made itself known “Why did you want me to hit her?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well…” Jane scoffed, as if it were obvious, her voice low and dangerous again, “How else am I supposed to get a new body!?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What the hell?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom was so confused, “What?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think about it, Tom,” Jane sighed, again talking as if it were completely obvious and he was missing it,  “Last time the spell was read, my soul went into the car. Now, I’ve queued up the tape to transfer ritual. And since my body is gone, I need to put my soul into a new body.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was shocked as he processed the information that she’d just given him. </em>
</p><p><em> She wanted...him...to murder another woman- an innocent woman who had nothing to do with this and had done </em>nothing <em>to Jane herself in the past- so she could walk on this Earth once more. Admittedly, Tom knew he would have done anything to see his wife on this earth again, but this was something he didn’t know whether or not he could condone. </em></p><p>
  <em> “What?” Jane chuckled lightly, as if the fact that what she was suggesting was as simple as writing her own name, “You thought we were scoping out chicks for fun?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Jane, you’re talking about killing somebody!” He exclaimed, unable to wrap his mind that </em>this <em>was what she’d resort to in order to ensure that she could live once more.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “No!” Jane shouted back, almost as if rather than talking about a murder she was talking about pulling a prank on someone, “No! No! I just wanna give the body...and the spirit a little shove. It’ll just loosen the bond a little, so my soul can slide in and push hers out.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t want your soul in the body of some random woman I don’t even know!” Tom protested, unable to hear this coming from his undead wife in the form of an automobile, “That’s weird!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry.” Jane sighed, not sounding like the apology meant anything at all, “I’m sorry, Tom.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom sighed as she started to take on that self-martyrdom tone that she always used when she was silently telling him how selfish he was being.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I completely forgot to consider your feelings in all of this,” Jane murmured bitterly, “I’ll just...I’ll stay a car forever. I’ll drink gasoline and go in every six months to let some strange men change my oil.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright,” Tom sighed, guilt clawing at his heart. After all, he had no idea what Jane was experiencing. Although he might hate himself for complying, he knew it was the right thing to do, “Alright...Alright, if this is what it takes to bring you back...I’ll do it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I mean I have to…” he murmured, shaking his head, “But...can’t it be someone who deserves it? What about Linda Monroe?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why?” Jane chimed in, an almost hopeful tone in her voice, “Do you find her attractive?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The longer Tom thought about it, Jane in Linda Monroe’s body sounded like a nightmare altogether. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know what...no…” he shook his head, taking the car out of park, “Let’s sleep on it...I’ll drive us home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he looked at the sky, he found that the sun was already setting. How the hell had it almost been twenty-four hours since he’d found out that his wife was alive and a car?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The fact remained that he’d been awake for longer than that, and in his exhaustion, he realized he could have been imagining things. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pulled into the garage, the small light from Tim’s bedroom window telling him that his son had gotten home okay. The small hum of the garage was almost like a lullaby and he yawned, taking the keys out of the ignition, and sighed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ve been thinking about it…” Jane said silently, breaking her merciful silence for the majority of their drive home, “...and you know where we could have looked for a body?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed absentmindedly, his mind suddenly off of the wonderful idea of sleep, and back on the fact that his wife was going to murder someone to re-establish herself in the world. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Where?” he sighed, not really caring where she wanted to go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Saint Damien’s,” she suggested in a light voice, snapping him back to reality as his blood ran cold, “You know, the hospital?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sat up more rigidly, praying that Jane wasn’t taking this conversation where he thought it was. Inside his chest, his heart was pounding, “Why?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Cause...isn’t that where your old friend works?” Jane murmured, almost as if her voice had taken on an innocent tone, “Becky Barnes?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His blood ran cold at the sound of her name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, God...no. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Becky...Barnes…” he mused, trying desperately to play dumb, “Nah...I haven’t seen her since…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yesterday?”  Jane cut him off, her sweet and innocent tone quickly shifting to one of slight accusation, “In the bookstore?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom’s eyes went wide, “How did you…?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You looked…” Jane muttered bitterly, “Really friendly…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah...well…” Tom shrugged, trying to get off of the topic of Becky, “She’s an old friend.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Shit. Not the best thing he could have said just then. </em>
</p><p><em> “An old </em> girlfriend, <em> ” Jane said disapprovingly, “C’mon...you know I’m not the jealous type...but, I’ve had a lot of time to think while I was being repaired.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Tom knew where this was going, and he didn’t like it as Jane continued, her voice molding into one that sounded like she’d just watched him kick a puppy off of a cliff. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know you loved her a long time ago...but is there any part of you...any small part of you that was glad I was gone so you could be with her?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Janey…” Tom felt guilty, knowing it was a lie, “No.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-I’m just...I’m hurt,” Jane’s voice cracked in a small whimper, sounding as if she was trying to cry, “And I’m scared...and I’m a car!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, hey!” Tom cut her off, trying to be as reassuring as he could be for her. He did still love her in some ways, and though he couldn’t condone some of the things she was implying, he would prove to her how much he still loved her. How much he wanted her back. How much he’d missed her, “You may be a car, but you’re still my wife… Now, what can I do?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ve known it was me for a whole day,” Jane began, her voice soft, “And you haven’t even kissed me…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Um...what? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh…” he sighed, unsure of what to say. Part of him was guilty about the fact, and he’d be lying if he’d not wished he’d had the opportunity to kiss and hold his wife again, the main problem of the situation lay in the fact that she now lacked lips. He shrugged in apology, feeling guilt squeeze his heart in an iron grip, “I’m sorry Janey.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Make me feel like a woman again, Tom,” she whispered, “Kiss me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And, due to his lack of better judgment, he did. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> “What the hell?! Tom, no!” </strike>
</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: June 4th, 2019</p><p>End Days</p><p> </p><p>John pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared down at the files in front of him.</p><p>This whole routine was getting kind of old. Sometimes, it felt as if all he ever did was stare at files that seemed to echo back the same old words back to him.</p><p>The world had ended.</p><p>Seven people were trapped in Nightmare Time.</p><p>Same old shit.</p><p>He wasn’t a scientist. He wasn’t the kind of person who could look at variables and data on a page and make it make sense to him. After all, he was the overseer of all operations on base. But as the knowledge of what had happened to some of his most loyal friends, people he considered to be members of his family, had continued to be more and more imperative to their survival, he’d learned what the numbers meant, and now he was staring down them with everything they had. </p><p>According to Emma and Hidgens’ analysis, the toxin levels in the bloodstreams of all of the victims was enough for them to possibly access their individual Nightmare dimensions within the next few days, and the fact that their physical health had decreased immensely had only convinced them of the fact. It didn’t help that now they’d gotten to the point at which every single time someone’s vitals changed when John was in the infirmary, he had to hold his breath in hopes that he wouldn’t be watching them die. </p><p>At this point, all of the victims had a terrible black web pattern showing on their necks and extending down their backs, showing that the toxin was spreading and making itself at home in all of them. It took everything in John’s power not to panic every time he passed by Hannah or Lex, the two of them looking worse and worse every time he passed by them. Miss Holloway had said that as long as they kept all of the victims in the right position, they’d be able to access their Nightmare Time’s easily and very soon be able to get all of them back in one fell swoop...under the assumption that nothing went wrong. </p><p>Miss Holloway had taken every possible outcome into consideration when it came to planning for getting them all out. From the way she’d planned it, she’d said she couldn’t foresee any direct things going wrong unless there was direct intervention from Webby herself...which was, unfortunately, more likely than they thought. The trickiest part was up to the people going into the mind-space to try and free them, as they’d be thrown into a Nightmare of the person’s own creation and would have to do their best to convince the person to go through the backdoor that Emma and Paul had procured unconsciously for them.</p><p>As expected, Paul’s progression had been faster than the others, and it was a miracle that he hadn’t crashed entirely several times before this point. His vitals were weaker, and earlier on in the week, Holloway had recommended the addition of a breathing tube, which had only been used for Ted after Emma had stabbed him. He supposed it was a mercy that they’d not had to resuscitate the man so far. He wasn’t sure if Emma would be able to take something like that happening, all things considered.</p><p>
  <em> Emma. </em>
</p><p>He sighed at the thought of the woman.</p><p>It had been a little over two weeks since the incident in which her life had nearly been taken by June Schaeffer, which had forced her to react in a way nobody should have ever been asked to do.  The sight of June’s bullet-riddled body and Emma being covered in the woman’s blood, a blank, numb expression on her face, would be something that John would never forget. </p><p>He didn’t blame Emma for doing what she did.</p><p>In the end, it had come down to the life of Emma’s child or the life of June. </p><p>If anything, June had given Emma every single reason to kill her. </p><p>That didn’t make the decision any easier for Emma.</p><p>After the fact, Emma had spent two nights in the infirmary with Phillipa keeping a close eye on her blood pressure and the baby itself. Emma was already a high-risk mother, from Phillipa’s description, so it was necessary that she rest as much as she could. </p><p>They’d decided to have her go stay with Becky and Tim for a while until they could figure it out or get Paul back. Emma ended up spending a whole week resting, and from Becky’s description, she’d not said much. John couldn’t blame her. The fact remained that Emma had already been put through the wringer when it came to the happenings of the Black and White and was rarely given a break, so when she resorted to resting for about a week, he found it as a relief. Part of him had even hoped that Emma would stay home to work, as it was better for her to get as much rest as possible, but once that week was up, Emma was back at work, partially acting as it had never happened at all. Well, not pretending as if the whole ordeal had never happened, but more as if she refused to talk about it.  </p><p>He sighed and glanced down at the papers before him when the sound of footsteps approaching caught his attention. </p><p>He looked up just in time to see Xander and Miss Holloway entering his office, the both of them had grave expressions on their faces. Since several of the people in their leadership positions were either incapacitated or dead, Miss Holloway and Xander served as his most primary means of counsel, especially when Becky, Emma, and Hidgens were hard at work. They’d done their best to analyze the numbers that were sent in and Miss Holloway would update everyone on their progress and they’d keep it together for as long as they had to. There weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish what it was that they were looking for, but they knew that they were working their hardest, and with the plan in mind, they would hopefully be able to rescue the people who mattered most to them within the week.</p><p>“Hey,” Xander greeted, holding up a large mug of something that smelled enticing, “We brought coffee.”</p><p>“You’re a goddamned lifesaver,” John groaned as he took the mug gratefully from his husband. He looked at Miss Holloway, “Nothing for you?”</p><p>Miss Holloway groaned, “For the last time, John...I’m dead. I can’t eat jack shit.”</p><p>“Right,” he looked down, inwardly cursing himself for the fifteenth time he’d probably made that mistake, “Sorry.”</p><p>Miss Holloway shrugged, “It’s fine.”</p><p>“So,” Xander sighed, “These are the lab results from today?”</p><p>John nodded, “Emma and Hidgens got them in pretty early today. They think the window’s coming up pretty soon.”</p><p>Miss Holloway picked up the files from where they sat on his desk, her turquoise nails gently pulling through the freshly-printed paper, taking in the data that Emma and Hidgens had sent him from earlier in the day as Xander went on.</p><p>“And lemme guess,” Xander sighed, “Emma hasn’t agreed to a psych eval?”</p><p>John shook his head, “Her sister was a psychiatrist. You think that growing up around someone who could read you and work you like a book would make her want to willingly go in for an evaluation?”</p><p>“No,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “Especially not with someone who was as apt at it as Jane Perkins was.”</p><p>As she continued to look over the numbers that Hidgens and Emma had sent in, she nodded at Xander, “You may want to look over both Hidgens’ and Jane’s files again...just to make sure we know what to expect when we go in there.”</p><p>John nodded and opened the filing cabinet beside his desk, searching for the large file they’d managed to pull on Tom’s deceased wife. They’d assembled a profile for the sake of knowing what Becky would likely be dealing with when she went into Tom’s Nightmare Time. The fact remained that the Jane Perkins Becky had known in high school had changed in the years since she’d known her, and even then, the Jane Perkins they’d be dealing with in Tom’s Nightmare would be a corrupted version of her spirit. </p><p>He opened up the first file that they’d had on Jane, which mostly pertained to the different specifics about her life, and started to read, staring at the smiling picture of a well-dressed woman. The woman Tom had married. A woman who was now dead.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Name: Perkins, Jane Jaime-Lyn </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Date of Birth: August 13th, 1984 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Status: Deceased </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Date of Death: December 23rd, 2017 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cause of Death: Car Crash </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Eye Color: Brown </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hair Color: Brown  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Married?: Yes  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Spouse: Houston, Thomas Dylan (2007-2017, her death) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Known Family: </em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>Houston, Thomas Dylan (Husband)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Houston, Timothy Owen (Son)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Perkins, Emma Juliet (Sister)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Perkins, Julia Marie (Mother, deceased 2010)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Perkins, Garret Dane (Father, deceased 2007)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Houston, Cynthia Laverne (Aunt-in-law, deceased 2004)</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Unborn niece/nephew (from her sister)</em></li>
</ul><p>
  <em>Profession: Psychiatry (self-owned practice since 2006)</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Education:  </em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>Masters in Psychology from University of Michigan</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Bachelors in Psychology and Sociology from Concordia University, Ann Arbor</em></li>
</ul><p>
  <em>Notable Characteristics:</em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>IQ of 145</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Extreme emotional intelligence</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Sociable and good at communication with others</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>High School Valedictorian</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Always part of a big social group</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Frequent patron of The Birdhouse</em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em>Brief experience with Alcoholism before her marriage to Thomas Houston</em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>John looked up from the papers after reading that final bullet point, “Jane had an experience with Alcoholism?”</p><p>Miss Holloway hummed and nodded in response, “It was between the time her sister skipped town and Tom had asked her to marry her. She worried that Tom didn’t really love her and that Emma wasn’t coming back.”</p><p>“Hmm...and half of that was true for the remainder of her life,” Xander murmured, “But how is that relevant to what we’re dealing with right now?”</p><p>“Oh it’s perfectly relevant,” Miss Holloway hummed as she turned the page on the reports, “Resorting to alcohol either as a coping mechanism or a habit is a very dark place to be.”</p><p>“And?” John asked, “How does that affect Jane’s corrupted spirit?”</p><p>“It’s a matter of stuff she left behind,” Miss Holloway murmured, finishing off one of the files before moving on to the next one, “Once she got over the thought that she needed Tom and Emma’s love as a form of validation, her relationship with herself and later, with Tom, were made better, but the pain from that experience...especially when breaking away from an addition, however brief, is something that can stick with you.”</p><p>Miss Holloway hummed as she turned the page, “In some ways, Nightmare Time could have exploited some of Jane’s past moments of weakness, which could have brought back the desperation and button-pushing that she utilized during her experiences to make her spirit corrupt.”</p><p>“You mean the after-effects of her brief dalliance with alcohol,” Xander mused, “...Might have contributed to the characteristics of her corrupted self?”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, “The corrupted part of her soul, which she cleaved from herself to gain entry into the Daydream that Paul and Emma created, is something that was made from all of the stifled pain she kept from other people. In life, she knew how to deal with it in a healthy way, after all, it was her profession to indicate to other people how to do the same...but when she was stuck in Nightmare Time…”</p><p>“It brought all of those toxic traits back,” Xander finished with a small nod, “So...Tom’s dealing with the worst possible version of his wife that he’s never known…”</p><p>“And, unless we get the timing right,” Miss Holloway sighed, closing the files, “Becky will be having to fight for her own body with that version of Jane.”</p><p>“Well…” Xander sighed, “We have time to debrief and train her on that, don’t we?”</p><p>“No,” Miss Holloway sighed, making both men turn to her with wide eyes, “We don’t.”</p><p>“Wait….” John stammered, “I thought you said that we had-”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Miss Holloway said gravely.</p><p>There was a moment of silence, in which Xander and John turned to each other with wide eyes, not really comprehending what the witch had said. </p><p>‘I’m sorry…” John murmured, “Let me clarify...You said ‘tomorrow’?”</p><p>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “If you take a look at these numbers if we keep them in there for much longer, they’re going to die.”</p><p>“But,” Xander murmured, his eyes wide with disbelief, “We thought the toxin threshold gave us at least a week.”</p><p>“Those were the initial calculations, yes,” Miss Holloway murmured, “But I know that if we let this go on any longer, they’re going to die. Finding the right point for Nightmare Time is very important, but if we let this go on any longer, we won’t be able to reach them.”<br/>“Has their collective condition deteriorated that much?” Xander asked, taking the files from where Holloway had placed them back on John’s desk.</p><p>“Just enough to make me think Webby might be accelerating it a little,” Miss Holloway nodded, “Which means we need to have a debriefing tonight and start the mission early tomorrow morning. It also means we need to figure out a way to get Ted out of there.”</p><p>Ah right. </p><p>The Bastard’s Box posed an entirely different problem. </p><p>They still didn’t know that if they freed Ted from the illusion, that his soul would still be under the control of the Lords in Black. In fact, if Emma and Paul actually did get through to him, they didn’t know that Ted wouldn’t be reclaimed and used as a puppet by Tinky. </p><p>“You know,” Miss Holloway murmured after a while, “I’ve been wondering what would have happened if Hidgens had killed Ted.”</p><p>John said nothing. Honestly, he would have been lying had he not believed that this would be something he’d considered in the past few weeks. Though they’d interviewed Hidgens and Emma over and over again about the occurrence from two weeks before, they’d tried to determine whether or not the death of Ted would have done anything</p><p>“You’re not suggesting...” Xander began, “...That we should have just let Ted die?”</p><p>“No,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “I’m just wondering why Webby would want Ted dead.”</p><p>“But,” John began, confused that the conversation had taken this turn, “But we established that it was <em> Emma </em>that she wanted dead that night...Not Ted.”</p><p>“No, we didn’t,” Miss Holloway shook her head, “We established that Webby could have wanted anyone in that room dead...but Ted seemed to be the one that she wanted Henry to kill. She must have known that Henry would have come to the conclusion that Ted was the likely choice to kill, which means that Ted and Emma were at the top of her excruciatingly long hit-list.”</p><p>Miss Holloway hummed, “But if Ted’s still alive, that means she still has use of him here...but if she wanted him dead, that means that she also has use of him there. After all, Tinky claimed his soul for his own.”</p><p>“You’re suggesting that Hidgens’ killing of Ted might have been a ruse?” John asked, “I’m not really understanding what you’re implying.”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “What I’m saying is that Ted might be of more use to both of our parties dead rather than alive. Bad as it sounds, Tinky may obtain control of Ted even in death, but that also could open the door for possibilities for us to help him more.”</p><p>“Help him?” Xander asked, an eyebrow raised in skepticism, “How can we help him if he’s dead?”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed, “I don’t know...but it’s worth looking into.”</p><p>John shook his head, “We don’t have time to look into it. If the mission is going to commence tomorrow, then we need to make sure everyone is prepared and they know what they’re expecting.”<br/>Xander nodded, “I agree. We’ve been briefing them on the situations that they’re experiencing, but we have to make sure they’re all mentally and physically ready.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded and looked down, “Okay...but we need to keep Ted’s situation in mind. If we’re dependent upon the intersection point in Paul and his Nightmare Times, we need to make sure that we prepare Emma to stay in Nightmare Time with Paul for as long as is required.”</p><p>“She’s ready,” Xander sighed without hesitation, “She’s been ready since this plan was conceived...but the real question is; Will Nightmare Time have an effect on her if she’s trapped in there with Paul for longer than they should be?”</p><p>Miss Holloway shook her head, “If we get the timing right, she’ll be in Nightmare Time after her body in his dream dies. Because they were killed by the same person, she’ll be in the same plane of existence as him, but because her consciousness won't be in that body before she dies, she won’t have the time to think that it’s real.”</p><p>“And what of the others who won’t be entering it as dead people?” John asked, “What of them?”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, “I have a spell to keep their mindsets intact as they go in...and since they won’t be exposed to the venom, like Hannah was, so they won’t be trapped under the impression that it’s real.” </p><p>John nodded looking down at the stack of previous briefings and plans that they’d documented over the past few weeks, planning for this mission, and though the mission was bumped up a little in terms of the time frame, he knew that this would be the next couple of days that defined whether or not they would save the people who mattered most to them. It was odd, he knew that he’d run far more stressful missions in which it was likely that he and everyone around him would die, but he’d pulled them all through that. With this, however, he didn’t know what to think. He’d known about the power of the Black and White since he’d first been recruited to PEIP, but now that they were actively fighting against it, and the creatures who’d been born within, he couldn’t help but feel like they were fighting a losing battle. By all accounts, it didn’t make sense...the fact that they’d survived this long was a miracle in itself enough. </p><p>With a heavy sigh, he turned to Xander and Miss Holloway.</p><p>“Okay,” he nodded, shifting into General mode, “Let’s go over the plan one more time.”</p><p>---</p><p>Becky sighed as she stood, making sure she was reading the alert on her small transponder screen correctly.</p><p>
  <em> Plans changed. Briefing in fifteen. Quarantine Bay. </em>
</p><p>Well...that was odd.</p><p>She sighed and doffed the gloves she’d been wearing once she’d made sure the patient she’d been treating, a young father who’d had an appendectomy a day before was relaxed, before making her way into the infirmary.</p><p>“Becky?” she turned to see Phillipa walking after her, straightening her lab coat, her dark curls bouncing as she walked.</p><p>Becky slowed so that Phillipa could catch up as she noticed the look of mild confusion on her face.</p><p>“You headed to John’s briefing?” Phillipa asked as she caught up and they continued to make their way to the quarantine bay.</p><p>“Yeah,” she nodded, looking at the clock as they passed by it, “Did Kam mention any big changes in the victims that would warrant a change of plans?”</p><p>The curly-haired doctor shook her head, “No...but she did say that the initial numbers would have given us a week so I don’t know what would warrant a change of plans.”</p><p>Becky hummed under her breath and looked down, focusing on the pattern of the linoleum tile as she passed it, trying very hard to keep her anxiety about the people they cared about at bay...mainly Tom. Tim and she had been getting along just fine, but there was still a seat empty at the table. There was still energy that only Tom could bring to them, making it seem more like home. Though Emma had joined them two weeks before as the result of a terrifying attempt on her life, it was still clear that the home lacked Tom. </p><p>Hell, everyone was lacking someone.</p><p>Having these briefings seemed pointless every single time they had one of them and neither of the Foster girls was there, or Lucy, or Paul, or Tom. Without them, the room felt empty, and in some ways, it felt as if the world was crashing down around them, the glue that was keeping them all together had come loose. It truly was sad to walk into different briefings, knowing that they weren’t going to be there. It felt more as if they were attending a wake than a strategic briefing. </p><p>It had been five weeks since they’d all collapsed. </p><p>Five weeks.</p><p>It didn’t seem right that they were still under the influence of something they didn’t understand. True, Miss Holloway had helped them understand it better and come up with a game plan, but they still had a whole world left to understand. </p><p>She knew what she was doing when she’d accepted the task of retrieving Tom from Nightmare Time. She knew she’d do anything to get Tim his father back. She’d do anything to make sure the world felt the light that Tom Houston brought to it once more. She knew it was dangerous, and judging from the difficulties that the witch had described she would face, she knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she was willing to face it all the same. It didn’t matter that their world was being turned upside down. She would bring him back.</p><p>She knew that the other people felt the same way, especially Emma.</p><p>Had it not been for the briefing John and Xander had given her when they’d explained why Emma would be staying with her and Tim for a while, she would have never known that something bad had happened to Emma. The woman acted so nonchalantly when she’d come into their home, acting as if nothing had happened at all. Come to think of it, Becky still wasn’t sure if Tim knew what had happened. </p><p>She’d done her best to give Emma her space, but she knew that the younger woman was dealing with a lot. Some nights, Becky would be up for some random reason, and she would be fairly certain she could hear quiet crying coming from the spare room that Emma slept in. </p><p>Oftentimes she wondered if Emma had felt the same way she had that horrible night. The night when she’d been forced to make the same choice Emma had. Well...maybe not the exact same choice, as Emma had a child to think about in the middle of it all, but sometimes Becky wondered if Emma would scrub her hands raw because she never felt like she was getting the blood off of them. Sometimes she would wonder if every time she closed her eyes, Emma would worry that Schaeffer would come to kill her again. Sometimes she’d wonder if Emma thought about what would have happened had June actually killed her. </p><p>These were the questions that Becky had found herself asking whenever she’d done what she needed to do.</p><p>Of course, <em> nobody </em>, except for John and Xander who’d recruited her shortly after the fact, knew about what had happened to Stanley. That was a part of her soul that remained in the darkest corners. In some ways, it was like an old photograph that nobody liked looking at, concealed away in the attic of her mind. Occasionally, she’d take it out to look at it, only to find that the fear and nausea that she’d experienced immediately after the fact had returned. In some ways, though she was a stronger and happier woman now, she felt as if occasionally the ghost of the man she murdered was haunting her. </p><p>She prayed with everything that she had that Emma didn’t have to suffer like that.</p><p>As they came to the quarantine bay and pulled the door open, she took note of Alice Woodward and her girlfriend jogging down the hallway, clearly having gotten the notice of a meeting as well.</p><p>“Hi, Miss Becky,” Alice greeted, panting slightly as she held open the door for them, “Do you know what this is about?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Becky shrugged, “But judging from the fact they mentioned a change of plans, something tells me our time frame might have changed a little bit.”</p><p>“What?” Deb cut in, “You mean like moved back, or up?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Becky sighed, “The message wasn’t very specific.”</p><p>Alice sighed and nodded as she squeezed her girlfriend’s hand and made her way through the door, “Well...the sooner we get them out of there, the better.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Becky nodded, looking into the bay and seeing that John, Xander, Miss Holloway, Kamaria, as well as Emma and Ethan were already there. As anticipated, Hidgens was at his desk, the man resorting not to talking much to other people since the incident a few weeks ago. She’d been told that in some ways, the man was responsible for the fact that June had been there to attack Emma, and that Webby had presented him with an impossible choice. Kill one of the seven victims or watch as Emma and her unborn baby were murdered. She couldn’t believe it. While she didn’t necessarily blame Hidgens for being put in that position, she did know that some of the issues associated with what had happened did fall on him. In some ways, his lack of telling other people could have prevented it. Then again, she didn’t necessarily know the terms of the threat Webby had laid on his shoulders, but she couldn’t deny that it could have saved Emma a lot of heartache and difficulty.</p><p>Not only had the manner of the group changed, but there were also a few changes to the layout of the quarantine bay. Since they’d developed a plan, John had ordered that several gurneys that weren’t in use in the normal infirmary (which, there weren’t that many) be brought into the quarantine bay for the eventual use of the people who’d be going in after the victims. They really only needed four, since Emma was supposed to be retrieving Paul and Ted, Alice would be retrieving Bill, Hidgens would be retrieving Lucy, she would be retrieving Tom, and Miss Holloway would be retrieving the Foster sisters. Of course, that was five people, but since Miss Holloway was far more powerful than any of them and she would also be running the spell, she would be working on all kinds of different levels and wouldn’t necessarily be unconscious for the mission to be run. In addition to the gurneys, they’d brought in a few extra monitors to make sure that the vitals of the people who’d be going in after them wouldn’t fluctuate or betray anything dangerous, seeing as how they didn’t know what the hell Webby would spring on them at any moment.</p><p>One week.</p><p>That was all they needed.</p><p>And then they could have everyone back if it all went according to plan. They just needed to hold out a little bit longer. </p><p>As she closed the door behind her, John looked up and clapped his hands together, catching everyone’s attention, “Okay, I know this briefing was a little impromptu, but it was necessary.”</p><p>“What’s going on, John?” Ethan asked, his eyes nervously flashing over to where Hannah and Lex remained, the teenager still looking exhausted and upset. </p><p>Her heart broke for the teenager. In some ways, he was still fighting a war that he should have never been involved in. The fact that he’d lost two of the most important people in his life to this war was horrifying and heartbreaking, and while he’d kept up a good face and tried to be as helpful as he could, she could see the fear in his eyes every single time they brought up the subject of what would happen to Lex and Hannah. All of this aside, she also knew how he kept going down to see Myrtle in records and registrations as if somewhere in her records she could reveal to him any information that would indicate that their old friend, his father, Tony Green was still alive. She hoped for Ethan’s sake that he was. The boy had lost so much, including his life before being returned, and he’d not even been given the chance to hug his father after he’d returned from death. </p><p>John sighed and shifted, casting a somewhat guilty look at the others, “I’m afraid, according to the numbers we received today, our timetable for the mission has shifted.”</p><p>“Shifted?” Hidgens asked, walking up so he could be a part of the conversation, “How so? The numbers seemed pretty normal for what we’ve anticipated.”</p><p>“They were,” Miss Holloway nodded, “But because of that, we need to move the mission up.”</p><p>“Move it up?” Becky asked, the question leaving her lips before she could really contemplate what they meant, “By how much?”</p><p>John sighed before looking down again, in some ways, the look on his face told her that whatever it was that she was about to hear, it wasn’t going to be something she liked. </p><p>“Tomorrow.”</p><p>If the collective blood pressure of the people in the room could rise, it did so just then.</p><p>Ethan’s eyes practically bulged out of his head, “T-Tomorrow.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded before John or Xander could get a chance to respond, “Yes. Tomorrow. I fear that Webby might be accelerating the toxin just enough to prompt this response.”</p><p>“But what if we don’t have the right access points?” Emma spoke up, her voice sounding serious and quiet, “What if we can’t find the right points to reach them.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded as if acknowledging the validity of the question, “If the toxin is speeding up, then so is the dream. Time works differently when you’re in Nightmare Time. Out here, we’ve been dealing with this for five weeks, it would seem, but for each of them, the time frame is different.”</p><p>Alice raised an eyebrow, “How so? I mean, I know you’ve told me that the events of my Dad’s dream take place over the course of a day, but…”</p><p>“How could it seem that way to him and not fit with the accordance of time?” Miss Holloway asked.</p><p>Alice looked like she didn’t understand a single word that the woman had said, but nodded along with it all the same, “Yeah...that.”</p><p>Miss Holloway smiled slightly, “Time is different in there. In some ways, Bill’s experiences over the past five weeks have all taken place in a day for him, but it’s all stretched out. To our perception, he’s moving very slowly through time, but to him, we’re all speeding by.”</p><p>Ethan scoffed, “That makes no sense.”</p><p>“Maybe not too many,” Miss Holloway shrugged, “But that’s the best way I can explain it.”</p><p>“Continuing on,” John sighed, “Because we’ve had to move the mission, we need to talk about what we’re doing tomorrow if you don’t mind.”</p><p>Becky nodded, avoiding looking at Tom, “Sounds good.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence as everyone started to exchange silent nods, all of them agreeing to listen intently to whatever plan they’d need to follow tomorrow morning.</p><p>John sighed and stood rigidly before clearing his throat, “Unfortunately, due to the timeline of this plan being bumped up, we need to be here early tomorrow.”</p><p>Emma raised an eyebrow, one of her hands resting on her stomach, which had grown quite a bit over the previous five weeks, “How early are we talking?” </p><p>John sighed, “I’d say six hundred hours would be the time to report here, mission starts an hour after that.”</p><p>Everyone silently nodded along, not even complaining about the hour itself, knowing how important the mission was. </p><p>John gestured to Miss Holloway, “You’ll be the one conducting most of the mission, while Xander and I will be oversight on both a technical level and military level, so it’s up to you who goes when.”</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded, “I’m going to start with myself...so I can establish contact with Lex, Hannah, and Duke. It will be easier for me to extend a branch of my consciousness into Nightmare time first and then expand the spell to the other parts I’m going to focus on, namely, getting the rest of you there, as well as opening the back door.”</p><p>At the other people’s nod, she turned to Hidgens, “Then Hidgens will go.”</p><p>At the sound of his name, the older man looked up, “Me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “While part of my consciousness will be in Nightmare Time getting Lex, Hannah, and Duke,  I will also be conscious here...I’ll tell you to be next to Lucy, and then I will get you to her.”</p><p>“And...I should be at my home in the woods when this happens?” Hidgens asked, “I should be-”</p><p>“Doing something no sane man ever would,” Miss Holloway sighed, “Simply put, you’re gonna want to find a bathrobe, and wrestle with your consciousness while trying to keep yourself from killing Lucy.”</p><p>Becky sighed, remembering the fact that Hidgens was going to be dealing with a version of his own corrupted spirit.</p><p>“So…” Hidgens murmured, looking deep in thought, “It’s going to be like <em> Confrontation </em> from <em> Jekyll and Hyde </em>?”</p><p>Miss Holloway sighed and nodded, “If you want to put it like that, then yes.” </p><p>With that she turned to Becky, ‘You’ll go next since it’s imperative that we get you in as soon as possible, but not too early. With yours, precision is of the utmost importance.”</p><p>Becky nodded, “Because Jane’s trying to play body-snatcher?”</p><p>It all seemed like such an absurd nightmare. The notion that Tom’s deceased wife was possessing the body of a car that she’d died in, trying to get Tom to commit manslaughter to make sure that she walked the earth again. Had it not been a life or death situation for Tom’s sake, Becky would have found it laughable. Still, she was willing to do anything to save and protect the man she’d loved since she was a child. A man who made her feel like she was so much more than her scars. A man who’d reminded her that she was worthy of love and belonged in their little family of broken pieces.</p><p>She’d do anything to save him.</p><p>“Exactly,” Miss Holloway nodded, “As we said in your previous briefings, you’ll be dealing with the worst version of Jane Perkins to ever exist. If she actually gets a hold of her body, you will have to work very hard to gain control of your consciousness. You will have to banish her from your own soul if you want to enter the daydream, and let’s not forget that-”</p><p>“That I also have to get through to Tom as well,” Becky nodded, remembering the briefing reports that she had read over fifteen times in the previous weeks, trying to be prepared as much as she could for the sake of retrieving Tom as best as she could. She was all in now, and she wouldn’t turn back.</p><p>Miss Holloway nodded and turned to Alice, “You’re next, and you have to be careful, as your father is Blinky’s favorite.”</p><p>Alice swallowed hard and nodded, her girlfriend taking her hand and holding it tightly.</p><p>“As I explained to you before,” Miss Holloway went on, her voice serious, “The access point in your father’s Nightmare Time is going to be one that Blinky’s manipulated.”</p><p>Alice nodded gravely, “Because he pit us against each other?”</p><p>Miss Holloway looked down somewhat regrettably, “I’m afraid so. Once you’re in, you’ll have to work very hard to get through to your father, but you’ll also have to work hard to protect yourself.”</p><p>“You mean she could get hurt?!” Deb chimed in, her eyes wide, “Allie, you never said-”</p><p>“I didn’t want to tell you,” Alice sighed, “I didn’t want you to worry.”</p><p>Deb turned to Miss Holloway, “Can she die in there?”</p><p>Miss Holloway didn’t react to the teenager’s outburst, “I won’t let that happen.”</p><p>“But if she does?!” Deb asked, her eyes wide and her tone furious, “What would happen to her.”</p><p>Miss Holloway didn’t respond, instead looking down as Deb scoffed and turned away. Again, Becky found her heart going out to the teenagers involved in this war. They should have been enjoying their lives, going places with their friends, and enjoying their lives, not having to remain on the knife’s edge of life and death. The fact that Alice was already willing to sacrifice so much to save her father was truly a testament to her strength as a young woman, and Becky knew in her heart that her father would be proud of her.</p><p>Finally, Miss Holloway turned to Emma, “You will be last.”</p><p>Emma looked down and nodded, still avoiding looking at Paul.</p><p>There was so much unspoken in those moments as Emma looked down, making Becky feel as if something in her chest was twisting with dread. While all of the others would be able to retreat into the daydream that she and Paul had created, Emma and Paul would have to wait for a while before they could get the chance to escape. They’d have to wait for an intersection point to hit, where they would be able to potentially reach Ted and get him to come back with him. Not only that, they had to wait until after Emma was dead to ensure that no harm would come to her or her child once she was murdered in Paul’s Nightmare Time.</p><p>The truth was, her mission would be extremely difficult. Not that any of the other missions were any less difficult, but the fact remained that she would have to remain in Nightmare Time for longer than the others and that was a fact that nobody liked.</p><p>The silence was so loud before finally, John sighed.</p><p>“Once you have retrieved your person,” John sighed, gesturing to the victims that surrounded them, “You’ll head through the backdoor, which will essentially be a rip in the fabric of the Nightmare Time, and you’ll find solace in Paul and Emma’s daydream. There you will remain until Miss Holloway allows you out.”</p><p>“And then…?” Ethan asked, his sad eyes suddenly filled with hope.</p><p>Miss Holloway offered him a small smile, “Then if we are successful, once we wake up, they will too.”</p><p>There was a collective bout of relieved sighs as if the idea was too beautiful to picture. Becky longed so dearly for Tom to open his eyes, that the mere thought of it made a lump rise in her throat. She couldn’t begin to describe how much she missed his bashful grins and gruff exterior. Though he was all rough and rugged on the outside, nobody could deny the beautiful softness that lay within. She missed it. And they were so close to bringing him back...to bringing them all back.</p><p>“Recovery will take a while,” Xander sighed, “And it might be painful. But once they’re out of Nightmare Time, we can take it one step at a time until they’re back to complete and total health.”</p><p>John smiled sadly as he nodded, “And I think seeing them all again would be something we all need,” he smiled softly to himself before turning to the others, “Are there any questions?”</p><p>Becky looked around and saw that nobody was raising their hands, the notion of everyone they loved returning to normal seemed like such a beautiful and foreign concept. She knew in her heart that they all missed each other so dearly that if this worked, they’d have to keep one another close as possible.</p><p>Becky tried not to allow herself to get too hopeful too quickly, but the images of Tom coming home, soft kisses and hugs and tears as she watched Tim hug his father, him coming home to them seemed like it was just at their fingertips. They just needed to work a little bit harder to make sure that day would come. She wanted them home so badly. She wanted them to be a family again. She didn’t want this constant state of mourning to remain as if a heavy cloud of gloom was constantly hanging over them.</p><p> She wanted Lucy to smile and laugh as she excellently handled the children. She wanted Hannah and Lex to be there, cuddling up and joking with Ethan and pestering the adults. She wanted to get to know Bill better, as she knew how much he loved his daughter. She wanted Paul to be there to give Emma the love and support that nobody else could quite match, standing beside her as they awaited the birth of their child. She would have even given Ted the time of day to see if he could reveal his true colors. But most of all she wanted Tom back. </p><p>Tom.</p><p>Wonderful, sweet, earnest Tom.</p><p>A man who’d taken all of her broken pieces and looked at her like she was the most beautiful mosaic to ever grace the face of the Earth.</p><p>Though the mission itself was risky and there were chances that it would go awry, she knew that she would do anything to see it through.</p><p>She’d do her part to see them succeed.</p><p>She’d do anything to get them back.</p><p>As John dismissed the meeting, instructing everyone involved to return to their own apartments for rest and preparation, she found herself walking alongside Emma, the woman silent and staring aimlessly. </p><p>Though Becky could find no words to provide comfort, she found her heart breaking at the sight of both hopelessness and determination - a very odd combination - on Emma’s face. </p><p>Becky sighed.</p><p>“Emma?”</p><p>The woman didn’t turn to her, instead staring ahead, humming a noncommittal sound in response.</p><p>“Hmm..?”</p><p>“We’re gonna get them back.”</p><p>There was a moment of silence, but Emma stopped, her eyes still filled with a slightly blank look that made Becky’s heart break.</p><p>She knew that she wasn’t Emma’s sister. She’d never been Jane. </p><p>All she had to offer the world was Becky Barnes. </p><p>And she prayed that was enough.</p><p>Without knowing what she was doing, Becky opened her arms to Emma.</p><p>“I know you don’t like hugs,” she murmured, “But if you-”</p><p>Without any words, Emma pulled forward and fell against Becky.</p><p>Emma didn’t say anything, and no tears fell, but in the woman’s stance, Becky could see so many emotions and fears that she could never completely put into words. Somehow, Becky understood them. Though Becky hadn’t nearly been targetted as much as Emma, she understood her grief and her guilt. She could read volumes of pain in her silence.</p><p>It was obvious that Emma was just in need of a friend.</p><p>Not words or false promises.</p><p>Just a friend who could offer her some hope. </p><p>If that was what was needed, Becky would be that.</p><p>She wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. The woman who’d been something of a sister to Tom. A woman who’d been so strong in such an impossible time. If Becky wasn’t repeating the phrase to remind herself of the matter, she was doing it for Emma, providing as much comfort as she could without any flowery words that sounded fake or fallacious.</p><p>“We’re gonna get them back.”</p><p>In some ways, it was less of a hope and more of a promise.</p><p>They <em> would </em> save them all.</p><p>They just had to wait for what tomorrow would bring.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Something was happening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hannah could tell from the way she could hear her Momma opening the door and annoyedly talking to someone with a familiar voice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Was it Duke? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yeah, it was him...she recognized the rhythm and tone of his voice...but there was something else.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something she couldn’t quite place… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A new voice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But...the voice didn’t belong here… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No...the voice was here to… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Here to… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>To save them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She gasped as she looked at the black instrument that lay in front of her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d asked Duke if they were in Nightmare Time...and he’d been unable to give her an answer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But...he didn’t belong here...and neither did she. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d not come here to look for Webby...had she? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She’d come here to save Lex.</p><p>She didn’t belong here.</p><p>She was trapped.</p><p>But something was coming...and soon they’d be free.</p><p>She knew it.</p><p>And even if she didn’t, she had to hope.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The sound of her Momma’s annoyed shouting ceased and the door was opened, the joints of the door squealing, and footsteps announcing that someone new had entered the trailer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One of them was Duke. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The other was a stranger who was like her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As she looked up to see Duke and a strange woman with red hair entering the tiny space of the trailer, she found her voice. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Have you come to free us?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Tom. God only knows he's gonna need a whole lot of therapy after this.</p><p>John, Xander, and Holloway are trying their best here! (And they're doing amazingly!!)</p><p>Becky Barnes is precious and deserves to be protected.</p><p>(Emma is in definite need of a hug)</p><p>Well...I guess the mission is at hand. Sure hope nothing goes wrong.</p><p>So sorry that this was something of a long filler, but I needed to bridge the planning and prep with the actual mission and it took a while!! As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!! Any feedback you have to offer is accepted and appreciated!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! Personally, this was not my favorite chapter and it took a while to soldier through, but I promise things are going to pick up in the next few!!</p><p>Please stay safe and healthy!! I really appreciate you guys sticking with this fic!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. All The Living Are Dead and The Dead Are All Living</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The mission begins.</p><p>Alternatively: The Endgame moment™</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song 'In Our Bedroom After the War' by Stars,  which is kinda ironic when you think about the context of all of this.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Body horror, eye horror, lots of death and murder (mostly thanks to Emdroid), basically the entire Bar scene from F&amp;A, mentions of death, blood, knives, guns, disintegration, etc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reset No. 6</p><p>Date: June 5th, 2019</p><p>End Days </p><p> </p><p>Emma didn’t need an alarm to wake up.</p><p>She sat up on the small bed that Becky and Tom had in their spare room, connected to Tim’s room by a small Jack-and-Jill bathroom. </p><p>Today was the day.</p><p>The day they’d get them all back.</p><p>She was up at five-thirty, her mind anxious to get down to the quarantine bay and start the mission as soon as possible. The fact that she’d managed to fall asleep at all the night before was a miracle with as anxious as she was to conduct the mission. Honestly, if there was a negative way to describe the anxious nature that children waited for Christmas morning, this was it. She felt as if her stomach was in knots. Hell, even the baby wasn’t moving as much as it normally was, as if it too could sense that something big was coming. </p><p>She eyed the loose jumpsuit that John and Xander had provided all of the people going into Nightmare Time with. The material was soft but durable, and for her, it had been adjusted to accommodate the baby bump. It was made so they could access different parts of the body and ensure that their vitals were normal while they were in Nightmare Time and allow them to understand how the missions were proceeding. Mainly, it was to aid John, Xander, and the other medical personnel that would be present for the mission, as they wouldn’t be able to see what Miss Holloway, who was in charge of the mission, was seeing.</p><p>Putting on her leg and then the uniform was simple, and she did her hair up in a messy bun, lacking the usual pins and clips that she needed to keep it all in place. She just needed to keep it somewhat out of her face while the mission went on, but even then, it was not something of a large concern.</p><p>What mattered was the victims and getting them back as soon as possible.</p><p>The night before had been rough. To be honest, she’d had a feeling that the timetable was going to be moved. She couldn’t understand how she’d known, but it was no surprise when John said that the mission would take place today as opposed to the planned date a week from now, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The sooner they got them back, the better. </p><p>When they’d gone back to the Houston apartment, she didn’t know why she’d hugged Becky, but she had. Maybe it was because Becky radiated hope to all who knew her and that was something in short supply for Emma nowadays. Maybe it was because a hug acted as one of the many reminders that she needed that everything was going to be okay. Hopefully.</p><p>She sighed as she finished zipping up the uniform looking in the mirror and sighing softly to herself.</p><p>She stubbornly fought against the urge to cry, which had been occurring more frequently in the previous two weeks. She didn't know if that was on the part of the baby or on the part of what she’d done...but it had been happening a lot. She put on her lab coat over the odd-looking jumpsuit, displaying the ID that she’d gotten when she’d joined PEIP as a scientist. God, that all seemed so long ago.</p><p>She smoothed the fabric over her stomach down, before the door to her bedroom opened and Becky peeked in, dressed in her own jumpsuit, her red hair up in a ponytail.</p><p>Her eyes were filled with a melancholy look as she looked at her and she smiled softly.</p><p>“You ready?” she asked. </p><p>Emma sighed and managed a small, tired nod, “Yeah.”</p><p>With that, the two of them started to walk out of the apartment, saying goodbye to Tim as he would be spending the whole day with Deb in the classrooms while the mission was going on, making their way solemnly and silently down to the quarantine bay. </p><p>It wasn’t that she was filled with dread, but she <em>was </em>afraid that something would go wrong. This mission seemed like it was too easy in the planning, but if Webby could really pull all of the strings…</p><p>No.</p><p>She swallowed down her worry. </p><p>It would be fine.</p><p>She just needed to keep herself calm and hope that everyone did their part right. </p><p>She wanted to chuckle bitterly at how fucking stupid it all seemed. </p><p>They were going to be transported into the worst nightmares of the people who mattered most to them in an attempt to free them and get them back. What kind of dystopian thriller had she stepped into and made a life out of? </p><p>They didn’t say anything as they walked down to the quarantine bay, the both of them knowing exactly what was about to happen. It was true, Emma didn’t like one bit of it. She didn’t like the idea that they’d all have to go into a Nightmare Dimension. She didn’t like that the people she cared about had ended up there, to begin with. The fact remained that it was their only option, however, and no matter how risky it was, they needed to do this. </p><p>She just wanted to see Paul okay again. </p><p>She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until after she’d killed Schaeffer. In some ways, that night, when she’d been curled up in the infirmary, trying to get the image of June’s dead eyes out of her mind, she could only wish that Paul was there.</p><p>She shook the thoughts of that horrible night away from her mind as they came to the large doors, goosebumps rising on her skin as she swallowed.</p><p>As she slid her ID to gain access to the quarantine bay, Becky looked at her, offering her a small encouraging smile, which Emma was too exhausted to return, instead resorting to nod in acknowledgment of the small amount of hope the woman could provide. That was something she could now appreciate about Becky that she’d hated in her youth; her innate ability to somehow make everyone feel at ease despite the harrowing conditions they were living in.</p><p>As the doors slid open, they found that the rest of the party was already there, dressed in their jumpsuits and standing to the side as medical personnel started to hook them up to the monitors they needed for the mission. </p><p>“Emma, Becky!” Xander called, “We’re just starting to get everyone hooked up...so if you’ll report to your stations, we can get you all ready to go.”</p><p>Emma nodded and shot Becky a look that she hoped meant ‘good luck’ as they both separated.</p><p>As she turned to where she was supposed to remain by Paul, her breath did its usual stutter when her eyes landed on him.</p><p>Over the past couple of days, the black, web-like infection had spread around his neck and around his jawline, making him look more like a corpse. </p><p>God, why did he look so...empty?</p><p>He looked like someone had hollowed him out. Had it not been for the slow (too slow) rise and fall of his chest, she felt as though she were looking at a dead man. Sure, she’d come in every single day to assist Hidgens with what they were doing, but in some ways, this was different. </p><p><em> “Hey,” </em> His voice echoed in her ears, <em> “Everything’s going to be okay. Okay?” </em></p><p>Again, tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she fought against them, wishing she could take his hand at this very moment and be done with it. Instead, one of her hands found her lower abdomen and she inhaled sharply. She would do anything to hear his voice again. His gentle, wonderful voice that made her feel like everything was truly going to be okay.</p><p>“<em> Okay… </em>” she whispered.</p><p>No matter what horrors he was facing inside his own mind, she knew that she had to get him out of there. She’d do whatever was necessary to bring him back to them. </p><p>It wasn’t long before Phillipa had made her way over to her, instructing her to lay down on the gurney and started hooking her up to all different kinds of monitors, including a few additional ones that would allow for them to keep tabs on the baby while the mission was underway, and suddenly, she was all ready to go.</p><p>She sighed and settled back into her gurney, taking notice that all of the other ‘travelers’ as Miss Holloway had called them, were all shifting nervously in their gurneys beside their respective victims. </p><p>John came to the center of the room as the clock read six forty-five- had they really been in the bay for that long?- and caught everyone’s attention, a tense silence settling over the room.</p><p>“May I have your attention, please?” John  called out, despite the fact that he had everyone’s attention, his eyes scanning over each and every one of the victims and the people who were supposed to save them, “I’ve got something I’d like to say.”</p><p>“Not now, John,” Miss Holloway called as she stepped out onto the floor, her green eyes scanning over the victims, “Time is of the essence.”</p><p>John sighed and looked down, “I simply want to tell you all that this is a very honorable action that you’re taking...It’s the farthest thing from easy...and it’s the farthest thing from safe. If anyone wants to back out now, speak now or forever hold your peace.”</p><p>Emma glanced around the room. From Becky to Hidgens, to Alice, and then to Miss Holloway, none of them so much as lifting a finger in objection. </p><p>John smiled softly and nodded, “Then, all I have to say to that is...Godspeed. You’re some of the finest people I've ever seen to cross the threshold of a PEIP base...and I hope you know that,” he sighed and turned his gaze over the victims with a sad look, “Bring ‘em home…”</p><p>With that, John stepped back and Miss Holloway took her place at the center of the floor.</p><p>“Alright,” she said as she set a single, black candle on the ground in front of her, “You all are aware of the dangers of your individual stations, as well as the order in which I will be inducing you into Nightmare Time?”</p><p>Everyone nodded as she snapped her fingers and a small flame erupted on the wick of the black candle before her.</p><p>She nodded with a small, determined smile, “Good.”</p><p>She waved her hands around oddly and the small flame rose and sparked into streams of several different colors. Shades of red and purple light danced at Miss Holloway’s fingertips as they all watched in awe, before sparking into the shape of what might have been a tree, trailing around the room before floating around the room. They all watched in awe as the red and purple sparks of light floated to each of the victims and landed on their foreheads. </p><p>Suddenly, the sounds of their voices, all of the victims and others that weren’t recognized echoed throughout the room, sounding distorted and the words not having any meaning. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...in my search for…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I just want you to need…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “...you still love me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am th...bastard!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jane!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I ...the power!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Miss Holloway looked up and opened her eyes, and with a stroke of shock through her body, Emma realized that the woman’s eyes had turned a shade of pitch black. </p><p>Despite the thought that she should have been put off, something about the sight filled her with a sense of determination.</p><p>All that mattered was getting them back...and now was the time.</p><p>There was no time to turn back or hesitate. </p><p>She was getting Paul back today.</p><p>She didn’t care what she had to do for it to happen, but she was going to save him.</p><p>She was going to bring him back.</p><p>As she settled back into the gurney, she found herself filled with a newfound sense of determination. </p><p>From her place in the center of the room, Miss Holloway looked up, a determined smile on her face.</p><p> “Are you ready?”</p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy had gotten sick of moping around the house, waiting for Jonathan to return and apologize, as he normally did when they’d quarrel like this. Part of her wished she hadn’t dropped the ring, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she felt freer than she did when she’d worn it. Still, Jonathan was a good man who often realized when he was wrong and more often than not he would apologize. Whether it was genuine or not, she didn’t care, the acknowledgment that he was wrong was enough to appease her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed as she stared out one of the hallway windows, the grey skies indicating that a storm was on its way. In the distance, she could hear thunder, like gunshots, echoing throughout the witchwood. Damn, she’d truly come to Hatchetfield during the rainiest season of them all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed and shook her head. Moping around the house wasn’t going to do her any good. She wanted to sit with Konk, he always managed to make some situations seem all the better. He was so lucky not to be knowledgeable about the ways of the world. In some ways, she wished she still had that childlike glee in everything that she did, especially when it came to her perception of the world. She used to be excited about everything in the same ways that he was, but the fact remained that life had been less than kind to her when it came to that perception. Dreamers like her were often faced with extinction when the cruelty of the world came into the picture. Still, she’d found Konk, she’d proven that her dreams were a reality. She didn’t need to prove it to anyone else. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The rain against the numerous windows of the large house was similar to a lullaby as she made her way down to the first floor, finding, as per usual, that the house was mostly abandoned. In some ways it reminded her of her home in England...but she didn’t like that. How could a place she’d been so happy in for the previous few weeks suddenly seem so gloomy and empty? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She didn’t think much of it as she made her way to the greenhouse, pulling open the door to reveal Konk, sitting in one of the far corners, by a stump she’d nicknamed ‘Konk’s stump’. She didn’t know why he loved going over to that corner of the greenhouse as much as he did, but the fact remained that she found him often. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He straightened quickly, before relaxing upon seeing her in the doorway, that usual comforting smile that he always had for her poised upon his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Despite the overall distraught nature of her mind, she found herself smiling. He could always put a smile on her face, even when she was in the darkest places. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> But that face...she knew it. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> It wasn’t the face of a friend. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> It was the face of the man who’d put her here. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Wherever ‘here’ was. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Where was she?  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He tilted his head endearingly, the aggression and anger he’d shown when Jonathan had come in and accused him of being false forgotten, “Okay, Lucy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head, “Not as okay as I should like to be, Konk.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Konk’s face fell, “Because of Konk?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy chuckled sadly and shook her head, “No...no, Konk. You were wonderful...It’s just…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “John-man,” Konk nodded, “John-man make Lucy sad.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She nodded softly, “I suppose…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “John-man wanted to take Lucy away,” Konk murmured as he moved closer to her, nearly tripping over a stray vine as he did, anger filling his eyes slightly, “But Lucy not wanna go.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy shook her head, “No...I don’t.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence as she looked up, watching as the rain hit the glass panes of the extravagant greenhouse. In all honesty, she didn’t want to leave Hatchetfield again. In some ways, the small town, which she was fairly certain nobody she’d grown up around would have wanted to touch, had become her happy place. It had become a second home that was far more welcoming than the world she’d wanted to live in. In some ways she felt like she was at home any time she was in Hatchetfield, whether it was running into town to buy groceries, talking to the woman who worked with Greenpeace on the corner, buying coffee for the both of them because sometimes tea wouldn’t cut their caffeine needs for the day. In some ways, she’d grown so attached to the little town. This small sleepy hamlet in the middle of America. God, she would have loved to remain here for the rest of her life. Maybe...since she’d taken off the ring she would have been able to stay...but the fact remained that she was still engaged to Jonathan. The fact remained that they both had something to give to one another through the aforesaid marriage and she couldn’t deny that. </em>
</p><p><em> “But…” she sighed, “He </em> is <em> my fiance…” </em></p><p>
  <em> As if that would make everything that had happened go away. As if that would make her happy where she’d been condescended to for the rest of her life. In some ways, marrying a wealthy, respectable man was no way for her to just absolve all of the problems people said she had as a child, but it would erase them for everyone else. She would never forget, but her marriage to Jonathan would also prevent people from remembering...or they would, but it would be the one embarrassing fact about her to make her feel terrible at social functions. The thought was somewhat nauseating. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Lucy…” Konk’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as he knelt down in front of her, “What mean fiance?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She swallowed hard before looking down at him, “It means...Jonathan and I are set to be married.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d forgotten that Konk was still new to the ways of the world. He was lucky enough not to understand the confines of social pressure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Konk tilted his head aside, “What ‘married’?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s a contract,” Lucy muttered, trying to keep the bitter tone out of her voice, hating how the word ‘contract’ was the first thing she found synonymous with ‘marriage’. She sighed and shook her head, instead preparing to tell Konk what she thought a marriage between two people should be, rather than what she’d seen her whole life, “One where two people agree to love each other best of all, for as long as they live.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Konk looked mildly hurt for a moment before looking up at her in puzzlement, “You...love John-man?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy sighed. This was a question that she’d been dreading since the day she’d agreed to marry Jonathan. It was true, she’d enjoyed Jonathan’s company (some of the time), and he seemed to do the same for her...but that’s not what love was supposed to be. So, her immediate answer would have been to tell Konk that no, she didn’t love him, but the fact remained that she was still engaged to him. In all honesty, every time she thought of her reasons to marry him, she was always brought back to the financial aspect of it all, and she never ceased to feel like a gold-digger. It didn’t matter how often she’d tried to convince herself that she would eventually love him, at the end of the day, their marriage truly would have been a contract.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Konk…” Lucy sighed, “It’s complicated…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence as she fiddled with her fingers, still getting used to the absence of a ring when suddenly, Konk’s strangely gentle hand took her own in his. She met his eyes and found that he was staring up at her with a great deal of gentleness. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Lucy…” he murmured, smiling up at her, “No go with John-man… Lucy stay with Konk.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sight of the gentleness and sincerity in his eyes made her wish with everything she had that she could say yes. That she would stay here in Hatchetfield with Konk and the Professor. She wanted to be here to witness everything that Konk could be. She owed him that much after as many times as he’d saved her life, but the fact remained that she couldn’t. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was engaged to Jonathan...and whether she liked it or not, she couldn’t stay. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I…” she sighed, “I-I should go find Jonathan.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Good luck.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She jumped and whirled around to see the Professor leaning against the wall, looking strangely satisfied as he looked down at the hunting rifle in his hands. She sighed once she recognized the usual dramatic flare the man carried with him as he went on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He just…” Hidgens sighed, “Took off.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Took off?” Lucy asked, her eyes wide, “What do you mean?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hidgens shook his head as he inspected his weapon, “Said something about you being crazy and going back to England and the marriage being called off…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lucy could have sworn that her blood froze over as Hidgens blew across the surface of his gun as if he were polishing it, finishing his statement. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Basically,” Hidgens deadpanned, “Go fuck yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wait...what? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No...that couldn’t be. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The marriage couldn’t be called off. It couldn’t. They both needed something from one another in a way that they couldn’t break off their engagement. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No…” Lucy breathed, her hands shaking as she realized that the Professor wasn’t joking. He never joked, “That can’t be...I’ve got to get this straightened out.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that, she ran out of the room, her hands digging into her pockets to try and fish for her phone. She fled up the stairs, her hands still fumbling to get a grip on her phone. Outside the thunder roared and the rain was crescendoing, much like the emotion in her heart was gripping at her, trying to prompt her to move and fix this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fix it, Lucy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fix this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She slammed the door to her bedroom shut and she stood at the window, scrolling frantically through her contacts to call Jonathan. She lifted the phone to her ear and waited, listening to the dull hum of the ringer as the world continued to spin, the roar of the rain echoing throughout the town.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t bring herself to care, but if she paid attention, she would have heard the weather echoing back at her. </em>
</p><p>“We’re coming for you, Lucy...just hang on.” </p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> “Come one, come all!” A loud exuberant voice cried throughout the lit-up streets of Watcher World, barely catching Bill’s attention as he sulked around the park, “Test your strength and win a doll!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Less than an hour had passed since the fight with Alice had happened on the loading platform of the Tearjerker, and since then, the rain had subsided. The sun had since gone down, and now thousands of purple and yellow lights illuminated the wet pavement of the park. Had Bill been in a better mood, he would have called it beautiful, but the words that Alice had yelled at him left him in a state of perpetual sadness. No longer had every corner of the amusement park seemed like something that would amaze him or allow him a moment to see his little girl smile. In every cheer and laugh that he could hear, he could only hear her words echo back at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I hate you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That was something he’d never wanted to hear from her in his life, and yet, in his attempt to connect with her he’d only managed to fuck it up more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You there, sir!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He glanced over to see a vaguely familiar man standing at what looked like some sort of strength test game, wearing a lilac-colored vest over a purple and yellow striped shirt. He was smiling wide at Bill, his purple eyes fixated on him as a wide smile stretched across his face. In his hands, he was holding a large, purple mallet. He nodded when he saw that Bill was looking over at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, sir. I’m talking to you, sir!” the strange and overly-enthusiastic Barker was shouting, “Step right up and win a doll!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill shook his head gloomily, “No thanks.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker, not losing his smile shook his head, “Oh, come on, sir! Everyone wants a Blinky doll!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker retrieved an odd-looking, furry purple doll from the rack beside him, holding it up to punctuate the phrase. In some ways, he could tell the doll was supposed to be in the likeness of the mascot, and it did make sense. It was a strange-looking little thing...maybe something that Alice would have liked. As the Barker dangled the weird-looking doll in front of his face, Bill found himself walking closer to the stand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker leaned an arm on Bill’s shoulder as he examined the doll as if trying to convince Bill to play the game in an up-close and personal sense. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tell me, sir,” the Barker said enthusiastically, “You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Mother? Nephew? Third cousin twice removed?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill shook his head. All he had was an ex-wife who hated him and a daughter who’d followed in her mother’s footsteps, “No.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker studied him for a moment before leaning off of Bill and standing back, crossing his arms and resting his chin on one of his hands as he did, his strange lilac eyes seemingly reading Bill’s every thought. Regardless of how uncomfortable it made him feel, Bill couldn’t help but be mesmerized. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wait a minute,” he hummed under his breath, “You’ve got a daughter...don’t ya?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Part of Bill was suspicious as to how this strange man knew about her, but he was too exhausted to try and deny it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah…” he nodded slowly before his stomach twisted at the memory of what she’d said to him. The words ‘I hate you’ seemed to echo in his mind, “But...we’re not exactly speaking at the moment.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker chuckled slightly and shook his head, “Well...nothing says ‘I’m sorry and I love ya’ like a Blinky doll,” he held out the large mallet in his hands as if encouraging him to take it, “What do ya say, sir?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed and shrugged, “Alright, what the hell?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Good man!” The Barker cheered, clapping him on the back as he handed him the mallet, “Smart man! But are you a strong man? Let’s find out. Two bucks for a whack, ladies and gentlemen!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After handing the cash to the man, Bill lifted the heavy mallet and quickly swung it down onto the directed area, the strain of the purple and yellow concentric circles hurting his eyes slightly. As he quickly brought it down heavily, he watched as the puck about half up the small tower of the game, before sinking back. As he caught his breath, he could hear the Barker beside him make a tsking noise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ooohh, so sorry, sir,” The Barker shook his head as he took the mallet from Bill’s hands, clapping him on the back once more, “It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Damn, he really was getting old, “It sure is.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With another clap on his shoulder, the Barker grinned, “Better luck next time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill walked away as the Barker handed the mallet to the next person in line. However, before he could make it very far away, the loud sound of a ‘DING’ caught his attention. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He whirled around to see the Barker congratulating the person who’d been in line behind him, a girl who couldn’t have been over the age of eight, as he handed her a doll. Upon receiving the doll, the girl’s eyes lit up and she smiled excitedly, bouncing back to her parents who were clapping and smiling, pride in their purple eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, what Bill wouldn’t have done to see Alice that happy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed as he looked up at the game. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well...if that little girl had been able to do it, then it couldn’t be too hard, could it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He stepped back up to the game, the Barker turning around just in time...as if he’d been expecting Bill to return, a knowing look in his mesmerizing eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey,” Bill murmured, retrieving his wallet to pay the guy again, “Could I give that thing another shot?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker smiled and nodded, “Why, of course, sir. Two bucks for a whack!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He handed over the cash again and took the mallet from the man, focusing on the small target. He reared up a little bit more to give himself more momentum, but as he swung it down and the mallet made contact, he watched as the little purple puck barely rose a quarter of the way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ooh,” the Barker shook his head, his grin still pasted on his face, “Pathetic.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed annoyedly and grabbed his wallet again, passing over a twenty-dollar bill, “Again.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He swung, over and over and over, each time getting more disappointed than before. Regardless of how much he swung the mallet, the puck barely rose on the tower, and Bill found himself gasping as he swung.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once he’d swung the mallet ten times the Barker shook his head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oooh, so sorry, sir,” he shook his head, still smiling, “Another swing and a miss.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As he started to take the mallet from Bill, he clapped him on the back once more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You are a weak man, sir,” he said, his tone never losing its showmanship, “A very weak man.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Desperate, Bill tugged the mallet back to him, “Do you take credit cards?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker smiled, “Why, of course, sir.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Quickly, Bill fished his card out of his wallet and passed it to the eager barker. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Charge it until I win one of those goddamn dolls!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker merely nodded with a smile and gestured to the game, watching as Bill swung it over and over again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His arms were aching as he swung it numerous times, each time the puck barely rising. He could feel his hands being rubbed raw as he rammed it down every single time onto the target, each time the Barker shaking his head and making a noise of mild disapproval.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could have sworn his hands were bleeding as he swung the mallet several times, sweat dripping down his brow as he did. He couldn’t keep track of the number of times he’d swung it, but it didn’t matter. He needed to give Alice something to be proud of. He needed to...He needed to… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He keeled over, leaning against the mallet as he tried to catch his breath. Behind him, the Barker was chuckling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sir,” he was saying, “I think you’ve had enough, sir.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill was heaving for breath as he grabbed the mallet, straightening, his back aching and his hands sore as he grabbed the mallet, warm on the handle from where he’d been gripping it with much ferocity. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker looked at the small cash-register-like device that he had at his booth, and then at the card in his hand, “You’ve spent four-hundred dollars, sir...You can buy one of these dolls in the gift shop for forty-nine ninety-five.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill didn’t care as he raised the mallet again, “It’s for my daughter!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He swung it down again, watching hopelessly as the puck didn’t move at all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oooh!” the Barker hissed, “He can’t even do it for his daughter, ladies and gentlemen! No wonder she hates his guts!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something about his words prompted Bill to swing the mallet down again. Again, the puck didn’t move at all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s a failure as a father.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill swung again, his hands aching. Again, the puck didn’t budge. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He was a failure as a husband.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The absence of the ring on his finger allowed for splinters to prick into Bill’s hand as he swung again, the puck not so much as twitching. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s been a failure his whole fucking life!” the Barker cried out to the crowd that had gathered around the booth, “We know! We’ve been watching with a thousand eyes!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill had enough. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shut up!” he roared as he held the mallet aloft once again, prepared to swing once more.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He brought the mallet down onto the hypnotizing target, but just before it made contact, he could have sworn his daughter’s terrified face appeared there. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Alice. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> His baby girl. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Oh, God...what was he doing? </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was unable to stop himself as the mallet made hard contact with Alice’s face on the target and Bill could have sworn he heard the sound of bone crushing and blood squeaking against the material of the target. As he stared in horror, the puck soared up to the bell before breaking the top of the tower itself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen!” the Barker shouted to the gathered crowd, which erupted into a chorus of cheers and laughter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill couldn’t do anything but stare in horror at where the mallet had dented the target, where he could have sworn his daughter’s terrified face had been mere seconds before. He lifted it away, muttering horrified words under his breath. He could have sworn she was there. She was there, looking up at him like he was a monster. God, what had he done? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> An arm wrapped around his shoulder, soft and comforting as he stared at where he thought Alice had been. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ve won, sir,” the Barker crooned in his ear, “You’re a strong man, sir. I’m proud of you, sir.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence before the Barker went on, saying the words that Bill wished he heard more often. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you, sir.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker pressed a comforting kiss to Bill’s temple as he shook, just staring at the game that he thought was smeared with his daughter’s blood. He couldn’t begin to breathe or form any proper words. All he could see was blood...purple blood. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill sighed and shook his head, turning away from the game, “Just gimme my doll.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Barker looked at him for a moment, the grin shifting to a look of puzzlement, “Sir, I don’t think your daughter needs a doll,” his gaze shifted from Bill to the doll in his hands before looking back up at Bill, “I think what she needs is a good, swift, kick in the ass, sir. If you don’t mind my saying so, sir.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bill was confused by what the man was saying, “What?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Ungrateful little brat,” The Barker tutted, shaking his head, “That’s what she is. Why, right now, as your busting your ass for her... </em> always <em>for her...she is scheming.  She’s going to get away from you if you let her.” </em></p><p>
  <em> The Barker shook his head again, looking at the mallet that he was holding, “You know what they say about little birds leaving the nest? You have to clip your wings or else they’ll just...” he did a little fluttering motion with one of his hands, “Fly away.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He handed the mallet back to Bill, and in a daze...he took it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Somehow, he knew what it was that he had to do.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> No. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He had to keep Alice from leaving him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All around him, the lilac-eyed crowd nodded and grinned at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The barker smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> No. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “The parade starts at nine,” the Barker said with a smile, “...and we’re counting on </em> you <em> to be there, Bill.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Limply, Bill nodded. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> NO! </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Make it a day worth watching.” </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Paul was unable to believe what he was witnessing as 23 and the real Emma sauntered into the infamous hole-in-a-wall bar known as the Birdhouse, one of the first couple of places he and Em- well….the other Emma- had gone out to get drinks together. It made sense that Emma would have wanted to come here. It kinda fit her scene, rustic, not very crowded, good music, it just seemed to fit with her. It was sad for him to realize that he’d never gotten to come here with the real Emma. While 23 was here, and Paul was forced to follow him around by default, he’d never actually gotten to sit down and have a drink with the real Emma. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was odd, he felt like she was the one he was supposed to love, the one he was supposed to meet and fall in love with all of those years ago, but he’d only ever known the false Emma. He’d fallen for the other Emma because she’d been left behind in Guatemala before he’d been murdered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why then, did he feel as if he was truly in love with this Emma? The Emma he’d never known. The Emma he’d never gotten a chance to love. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to protect her from whatever it was that 23 and the other Emma had up their sleeves? Hell, as far as this Emma was convinced, this was the real Paul...just as he’d been convinced that the barista he’d met  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This, of course, begged the question of whether or not Emma had been cloned.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe this Emma had been cloned as he had been. Maybe the Emma that 23 had married had been a product of some other shady cloning experiment and had gotten away, working to do away with her original, only...unlike 23’s attempt on his life, the other Emma had failed...which meant that the real Emma was in danger. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s mind flashed back to the knife that Emma Matthews (which was what he was calling 23’s wife now, since calling them both Emma was going to get really old really fast) had slipped into her purse before leaving the apartment less than an hour ago. If Emma Matthews truly thought as the real Emma did, then they didn’t have much time before she found them there. 23 still hadn’t put two and two together that Emma Matthews was entirely different from Emma Perkins. Even though they were identical, it still hadn’t clicked with the man, leaving Paul and the real Emma as the only people who seemed to have an idea of what was going on.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, this was all so confusing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was grateful that Emma got the same idea as him that she wasn’t safe in 23 and Emma Matthews’ apartment. While she still had gone with 23, the farther away she was from a place where a potential clone could come and kill her the better. Even after listening to 23 embarrass himself going on a long tirade involving how he had an aversion to veganism and how he wasn’t a fan of roleplay, the realization that Emma’s life was being stolen by someone who looked like her was one that gave Paul pause. And it was one that had led them to the Birdhouse. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The air of the birdhouse mostly smelled like what someone would find at an ax-throwing gallery, almost as if the room was caked in sawdust or chopped wood. The bar felt warm and cozy, the ambient songs from artists like Green Day, which Paul had always loved, Temple of the Dog, Audioslave, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, and other bands played, giving the bar a nice air. The sound of pinball machines clinking as well as pool balls clattering together was nice to listen to as 23 and Emma took their seats at the bar, Emma gesturing to the bartender, a man named Jeff, to give her a shot. When Jeff looked expectantly at 23 who was studying Emma strangely, very obviously still thinking that this was his wife, Emma Matthews, he seemed taken aback, stuttering out a small order for a nondescript local beer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once Jeff produced the drinks, Paul watched in awe as Emma threw back the shot like it was nothing, hastily, and like she needed it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Huh…” 23 murmured after taking a sip of his beer, “Emma, I’ve never seen you drink like that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma scoffed as she set the shot glass down, shaking her head, “You’ve never seen me do anything, dude! I got back from Guatemala two days ago!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head again, looking annoyed as she studied 23, “I went through hell and high water to get back here.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Oh,” 23 nodded, looking like he still didn’t understand what was going on, “So...Emma’s </em> not <em> dead?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “She told you I was dead?!” </em>
</p><p><em> “Yes,” 23 sighed, “ </em> You <em> said you were dead.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Well…” she sighed, something like pain flashing in her eyes, “I almost was.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As 23 looked at her in confusion, Emma sighed. To be honest, Paul would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to know how Emma had somehow survived her doppelganger’s attempt on her life.  </em>
</p><p><em> “I was headed to Tikal on this bus full of thirty people and forty chickens,”  she explained, her eyes filled with a strange haunted look, “The driver’s a maniac. He’s making these </em>crazy <em>sharp turns on the edges of cliffs...and then one turn comes that’s too tight. The driver slams on the breaks but...they’re out.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Paul could have sworn he’d heard this before. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> “You wanna know how I got this one?” </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> She’d told him about it. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Back when he was with her. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Back when he was living… </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> But...he wasn’t dead, was he? </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> No...he was just trapped. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He needed to get back to her... </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I go flying right off the edge…” she sighed, shaking her head softly, like she couldn't fathom it, “I’m the only survivor.”</em>
</p><p>"<em>Me, and some chickens.” </em> <em>She leaned back on her barstool for a moment before throwing her hands up in exasperation, “And when I got back to the hostel...all my stuff was gone! Passport, phone...my birth certificate! My whole life was in that backpack!”</em></p><p>
  <em>  “You know how hard it was to get back here without any of that shit?” she yelled, taking another shot that had been placed in front of her for emphasis, “Only to find that some bitch has been living my life and doing it all wrong!?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She scoffed as she looked at 23 up and down and then at the wedding band on his left hand, “She got me married?!? I am never getting married!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Heh…” 23 chuckled lightly, “Yeah...you used to say that all the time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma sighed and Paul groaned. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This isn’t your wife!” he shouted as if 23 could hear him, “How are you not getting this?” </em>
</p><p><em> Emma rolled her eyes, “ </em> She <em> used to say that, </em> I <em> still do.” </em></p><p>
  <em> 23 sighed and took another sip of his beer, still playing into what he thought was a game.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Right…I keep forgetting,” he sighed, setting the drink down on one of the napkins that Jeff had provided them with, “You’re </em> not <em> Emma.” </em></p><p>“<em> God,” Paul sighed, “How has it not clicked yet!?!” </em></p><p>
  <em> “No,” Emma shook her head, “I am Emma! She’s not!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Right…” 23 sighed, holding up his hand  “Look...I don’t know if this is some kind of test or some kind of a strange joke…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul sighed, “If you bring up sex in any way, buddy, I swear to God-” </em>
</p><p><em> “But...all I can say is,” 23 sighed, clearly already intoxicated despite having only half a beer, “This better be leading to a </em> very <em> sexy surprise.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Are you kidding me?” Paul sighed, embarrassed on behalf of his murderer, “Again, this isn’t your wife! You really sound like a creep right now!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now,” 23 sighed, “I’ve had half a beer...I’m tipsy...and I’m going to use the little boy’s room.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Lightweight,” Paul murmured bitterly as he watched 23 walk somewhat awkwardly away.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That was one of the few differences between himself and his clone. He could hold his liquor strangely well despite being someone who didn’t drink a lot. 23 however was lucky if he made it through a whole beer without passing out.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As 23 sauntered away, however, Paul noticed something strange. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wasn’t being pulled to follow him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Instead, he remained right beside this other Emma...as if...he were tied to her, in some way. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> The bond. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> They had a bond. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He watched as Emma stared at 23, looking at him with an odd expression. It was strange that he felt this way for a version of Emma that he’d never even met. Regardless of whether or not he’d been allowed to fall in love with her, he knew that he had to protect her...even if he didn’t know how he had to find a way. It wouldn’t be long before someone found them. It wouldn’t be long before the other Emma came back to try and kill her. He couldn’t allow that to happen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He turned back to Emma, seeing her staring after 23 as he disappeared from sight, a puzzled look on her face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Little boy’s room?” she echoed, making Paul wish the situation wasn’t so serious so that he might laugh at the absurd use of the term. She scoffed and shook her head, “God, I married a geek.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, I did.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul jumped at the sound of Emma’s voice echoing back at her and whirled around just in time to see that the second Emma, the Emma that 23 had married was behind the real Emma...and judging from the way her hand was clenched around Emma’s shoulder, the knife was in her other hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh...God no. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t turn around,” the second Emma hissed in her ear, “You’re not gonna like what you see, so just don’t do it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul tried to move to put himself between the two, but he found himself hopelessly phasing through both women. He could see in the real Emma’s eyes that there was pure fear. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s you…” she breathed, “You stole my life...What do you want from me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please…” he murmured, praying that perhaps this other Emma would hear his plea for the real Emma’s life, “Please, don’t do this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I want you to keep your mouth shut and come with me into the alley,” Emma Matthews spoke slowly and dangerously, avoiding the eyes of the other bar patrons, “We’re gonna have a little chat.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As if to punctuate the statement, Emma Matthews yanked the real Emma off of her barstool, and Paul could see the gleam of the large knife pressed sharply into her back.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Please!” he was practically yelling now, desperate to stop her from taking Emma into the back alleyway where she’d leave Emma for dead. He could remember how terrified he’d been as he’d felt the knife slide in between his ribs, leaving him to choke on his own blood as the pain made itself known. He couldn’t watch Emma suffer the same fate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, where the fuck was 23?!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Look...I won’t tell anyone about you,” Emma tried to plead quietly with her, “Just...give me my life back and leave town.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “God, you’re stupid,” the double sighed annoyedly, shaking her head and pressing the knife closer to Emma’s back, “Keep moving!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul didn’t know what he could do to prevent Emma from being taken outside, helplessly shifting through the two Emmas as they started to make their way to the door, before suddenly, a large, leather-clad biker, who towered over both Emmas by at least a foot stood in front of the door, one of his tattooed arms stroking through his messy, wiry mass of a beard. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whoa-ho-ho! Either I’m seein’ double, or today’s my lucky day!” he laughed, his slurred voice echoing throughout the front foyer of the bar, looking the two of them up and down, “You two twins or something?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At that moment, he could see a look of hope cross Emma’s face as she stepped forward slightly, trying to angle herself away from the knife in the other Emma’s hand. He recognized that look in her eyes; she was finding a potential way out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We are twins,” she nervously lifted an eyebrow, playing into the disgusting thug’s advances, “And...we’re looking for a good time...help me. Help me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul’s heart broke as he watched her mouth the words, but the intoxicated biker didn’t take notice of the fear in the woman’s eyes. Before the biker could respond, the second Emma spoke up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, we aren’t,” she said definitively as she let go of Emma and held up the ring on her finger, “We’re married.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, I’m married too,” the biker grinned and displayed an old, somewhat rusted ring, “That’s what makes it fun!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul sighed disappointed but not surprised that the majority of Hatchetfield had kept up in their marital habits. He supposed that was the reason why it’d taken 23 as long as he had to ask this other Emma to marry him since there wasn’t a marital relationship they knew of that was entirely healthy or half of the party was dead. Bill’s marriage had ended in divorce, Charlotte and Sam were cheating on one another, everyone knew Linda Monroe was stepping out on her husband with her lawyer, Becky Barnes’ husband had left her, and Jane Perkins had left her husband and son behind after being killed in a car crash. When it came to marriages, Hatchetfield didn’t necessarily have a good track record.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> None of this mattered, of course, as Emma tried to throw herself at the biker, clearly viewing his disgusting nature as the lesser of two evils. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hell yeah!” Emma laughed nervously, clearly looking for any way to get out of the knife that was pressed to her back, “Take me with you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Emma could get far away from her double, she was yanked back as the second Emma stepped in front of her, clearly moving to shove the biker out of the way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Get out of my way, asshole!” she said to him, glaring up at the man who was easily a foot taller than her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Just move,” Paul pleaded with the man, not wanting to see anyone else get hurt, “Move and get Emma out of here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “C’mon now,” the man laughed, clearly not taking Emma’s threat seriously, “I’ve got some friends by the pool table, lemme introduce you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment where Emma looked like she was about to speak, before the man’s eyes widened, falling on the large kitchen knife in the other Emma’s hand. He chuckled, shaking his head as if he didn’t take the way she was holding it and the threatening expression on her face serious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whoa...that’s a big knife for such a little lady,” he crooned condescendingly, making Paul want to roll his eyes, “But it’s not the size that counts.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To make his statement more clear, the biker pulled a small switchblade free from his pocket and held it aloft as if he were threatening both of them. God, it was at times like this that Paul was reminded of why he didn’t necessarily like people. The double of Emma didn’t seem phased. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t threaten me,” she murmured, glaring up at him in a way that made a shiver run down Paul’s spine, “You’re gonna start something that I’m gonna have to finish.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Somehow, Paul knew, something terrible was about to happen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Kick her ass, dude!” Emma shouted, clearly desperate to find any way to get out from between two knives, “She’s calling you out!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The biker tried to push the other Emma out of the way to grab a hold of the real one, “Your sister’s coming with us,” he snarled, holding the knife closer to the second Emma’s face, “Why don’t you take that knife and get back in the kitchen, huh?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If Paul could breathe, he was certain that his breath would have been knocked from his lungs as he looked at the blank expression on Emma Matthews’ face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shit,” he murmured, watching as she sized the man in front of her up as he advanced forward with the switchblade, the intent to do harm present in his eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh great…” she sighed, clearly unamused, “Here we go again…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the much larger man lunged for her, the other Emma nonchalantly dodged his attack as if she’d known all along what it was that he was going to do. Before he could rear himself back up to attack her again, however, Emma sliced the kitchen knife down, slicing expertly through his sinewy, thick neck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Paul knew what it was that he was watching, he was seeing the biker’s head going flying across the room, severed from his body with an executioner’s precision. The severed head hit the ground in a pool of blood with a sickening, squishy-sounding thud. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Holy shit!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Holy shit!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He and the real Emma had spoken at the same time as he could do nothing but stare as the headless body of the biker collapsed, blood spraying all over the messy floor of the bar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Get her!!” </em>
</p><p><em> From the side of the pool-table, Paul could see several bikers, dressed similarly to the decapitated man laying at the false Emma’s feet, running towards them, pulling out guns and switchblades alike, clearly not realizing that their friends </em>head <em>had just been separated from his body by a woman who was at least a foot shorter than them and was significantly smaller in stature. They clearly hadn’t gotten an idea of how dangerous she really was.  </em></p><p>
  <em> He found himself getting pulled back as the real Emma scrambled backward trying to get away from the obvious calamity that was about to ensue. He found himself sitting beside her against the wall as they watched the large, lumbering men bolt for the imposter Emma. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without blinking, the imposter of Emma expertly dodged the barrage of attacks, throwing them aside and slashing her blade out. He let loose a curse as he saw someone’s severed hand flew freely across the room, eliciting several terrified screeches from the people around the bar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Holy fuck…” Emma breathed beside him, pulling out her phone before realizing that as she’d fallen aside, the screen had shattered. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In front of the two of them, they watched as blood painted the walls of the bar, as the last of the bikers was dispatched.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The false Emma was soaked in crimson as she turned, looking at all of the terrified onlookers. With a sickening thud in his stomach, Paul realized just what was about to happen. </em>
</p><p><em> “Oh, beautiful,” the imposter Emma sighed, shaking her head sardonically, “This is just perfect...Now </em> no one <em> here can live.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Without another word, the false Emma leaped forward and turned her deadly attention onto the other people in the bar, breaking bottles and spilling blood, flinging her knife about as people were murdered left and right. The real Emma swore and moved to cover herself from the breaking glass and the spray of blood as Paul failed to cover her from it. He watched as several people were stabbed and killed, their screams silenced as the false Emma turned her skill onto them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh fuck!” Emma whispered, her voice ragged as she scrambled about, trying to find a way out, but the bodies were blocking the door. It was sickening how the screams of the people who were being murdered had become ambient noise.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finally, it stopped, and the blood-covered imposter turned, making Emma push herself back against the wall as she moved towards them, gesturing to the carnage that surrounded them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There!” she scoffed, gesturing to the pile of bodies, the blood, the severed limbs with a strangely lackadaisical air, “You happy now Emma? Look at this fucking mess! How am I supposed to explain this to Paul?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed and shook her head with a small smile, “I’ll think of something….come here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The real Emma stood and walked backward, trying to get away from the advancing imposter, her brown eyes darting around. </em>
</p><p><em> “Please! Don’t!” Paul was shouting, knowing that there was nothing he could do. He turned back in the directions of the restrooms, wondering where the </em> fuck <em> 23 was. He could see this and at the very least end this madness! </em></p><p>
  <em> Evidently, Emma felt the same way as she was backed into a corner, her eyes flitting over to the restrooms, desperation in her voice, “Help, PAUL!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, the fact that he could do nothing to stop this was killing him. The sound of her desperate voice broke his heart as the imposter advanced on her, hissing in her ear. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t you say his name!” the other Emma spoke, before wrapping her hand around Emma’s throat, and with unbelievable strength, began to lift her like it was nothing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop it!” Paul shouted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You coulda just died on that bus and made things simpler for the both of us,” the false Emma crooned, tightening her grip on the real Emma’s throat as the woman flailed about helplessly, grappling at where the iron grip was tightening around her throat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You…” Emma choked as Paul tried but failed miserably to try and separate the two, “C-cut the brakes?!?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” the false Emma nodded, a small smile on her face, “And now I’m about to cut something else.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She grabbed the bottle on the bar where 23 had left it and smashed it, inspecting the remaining glass shards on the end of the bottle. She moved it back as she prepared to stab the end of the bottle into Emma’s stomach, the woman flinching and squeezing her eyes shut when suddenly... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma!?!?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All three of them whirled around to see a terrified-looking 23 standing near the entrance to the bathroom, the color leaving his face as he took in the surrounding carnage. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, it’s about fucking time!” Paul shouted, praying that maybe this gave Emma a chance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh,” the false Emma smiled and straightened, dropping the real Emma, “Hi, honey!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As she hit the ground, the real Emma coughed and choked, grappling around and gasping for breath. Paul fell to his knees beside her, forgetting momentarily that he couldn’t help her or talk to her in any way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> On the other side of the bar, the blood-soaked Emma moved towards her husband, 23’s eyes darting around the destroyed bar as he took in what he was seeing. If he were being honest, Paul honestly didn’t know what was more shocking for his double, the fact that the bar had been soaked in blood and the innards of his wife’s victims, or the fact that he was, in fact, looking at two versions of the same woman. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh...my God,” he murmured, his face growing paler by the moment, “Oh my God!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paul looked over to where Emma had just caught her breath, her eyes filled with desperation as they darted around, before finally landing on a pool queue that had somehow ended up on this side of the bar. She moved to grab it quickly, before raising it, stalking up behind the false Emma quietly, her breath ragged in her chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Paul, I can explain,” the false Emma began, still focused on talking to her husband, holding her hands up comfortingly, “You’re...drunk. You had half a beer and you’re seeing things.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> SMACK! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The real Emma brought down the thick beam of wood down on Emma Matthews’ head hard, cracking over her evidently thick skull. 23 gasped as he scrambled forward, clearly only concerned with the fact that his wife could have just gotten concussed, “Emma!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without much concern, the other Emma shook her head and her hands went back to the real Emma’s throat, trying to continue what 23 had interrupted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop!” 23 shouted as the false Emma grappled at the real one’s throat, but he didn’t notice what Paul had, which was the fact that Emma still had half of the broken pool queue in her hand.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In an act of desperation, the real Emma thrust the shard of wood upward, finding contact in the left eye of the Emma holding her hostage. Almost instantly, the intruder dropped Emma, her hands going to the stick of splintered wood that was stuck inside her eye socket. If Paul could have thrown up right there, he would have. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh my God! Emma!” 23 screamed, his eyes wide and his face pale, looking like he didn’t know what to do.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the real Emma scrambled to her feet, moving as far away from the false version of herself, moving hastily towards 23, who looked like he was glued to his spot, Paul followed her looking over his shoulder at the murderous double...only to find something very strange.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Rather than freaking out that there was a broken shard of wood stuck into her eye, the woman was simply lifting her hands to tug at it...more concerning, however, was the fact that instead of blood, there was a shower of electric sparks coming from the damaged eye. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Okay...so she wasn’t a clone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Em-ma?” 23 breathed, his eyes filled with something that wasn’t entirely fear, but more of confusion as he watched his wife start to pull on the piece of wood.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Emma, however, had other ideas as she got to her feet and started to tug at 23’s arm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “C’mon, dude!” she shouted, pulling him towards the door as he sat there, shell-shocked, “Your wife’s a crazy murderer, we gotta go! Now! Now! Now!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Move it!” Paul shouted at his double as 23 watched his wife with wide eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Emma?” 23 repeated her name like he still couldn’t understand what he’d seen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Just then, the false Emma pulled the pool queue free from her eye, taking the actual eye with it, only, instead of anything that looked like it belonged in a normal human body, there was a collection of wires and circuits that were sparking violently. She looked down at it with a disapproving glare, with her one good eye, before turning back to 23 and Emma. Just then, they’d finally made the decision to run out of the bar, pulling a shocked Paul along with them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He never thought he’d seen 23 speed on a road before, but judging from the expression on his double’s face, he just wanted to make it as far away as possible and he couldn’t blame him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He processed all that they’d seen inside that bar.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The double. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The bikers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The blood.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The carnage. </em>
</p><p><em> The </em>eye.</p><p>
  <em> If the Emma that 23 had married wasn’t a clone...what was she? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It didn’t matter, Paul decided.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What mattered was that Emma was safe for now, but it wouldn’t be long before the other Emma was back.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He needed to make sure, that regardless of whatever happened, that the real Emma could live. That the real Emma would make it out of this alive. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because...in spite of not ever having known her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In spite of never getting the chance to be with her before their lives were stolen from them… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He loved her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> He needed to get back to her. </strike>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Ted couldn’t believe the state of the place he was in. He’d been in many a holding cell in his days, but never before had he been in one like this...or was this supposed to be an office? Regardless of the room’s purpose, he was fairly certain that normally, they didn’t ask to take all different kinds of samples from all different kinds of places. After arguing with many strange scientists and getting a forceful blood sample taken from his arm, he was now sitting against the cold metal of a chair, with nobody but a tired-looking security guard scrolling through something on his weirdly futuristic iPad.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted sighed and turned his attention to the pitcher of what looked like steaming hot coffee, looking for something that would help him wait out his hangover and sober up while he tried to remember what the fuck had happened last night. He poured himself a small cup and took a sip before almost instantly spitting it back out. He didn’t know who the hell </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey!” he caught the attention of the guard, who looked like he couldn’t give less of a crap, “This coffee tastes like shit!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The guard looked puzzled for a moment, “What’s coffee?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted scoffed and leaned back in his chair. What century was this guy from that he didn’t know what the nectar of the gods (only behind various kinds of alcoholic beverages, of course) was? He sighed. Considering how he’d been locked in an office that looked like a holding cell with a mall cop, he was among a generation of idiots. Though, that was his common attitude at work. He looked at his watch and sighed, realizing that he’d been in this weird metal room for over two hours. He was getting really impatient, and now, he really needed to go to the restroom.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, the door slid open, and the horrific sound of loud, metallic footsteps echoed throughout the room, resounding in a way that made the security guard stand rigidly, nodding as a large metallic figure sauntered into the room.  </em>
</p><p><em> It was a man...at least...Ted </em>thought <em>it was supposed to be a man. </em></p><p>
  <em> He looked like something out of a science-fiction movie, as he was dressed (dressed? More like plated) in chrome-colored metal, his limbs looking like something robotic and advanced in ways Ted couldn’t even begin to describe. On a face with steely eyes, there was metallic plating that seemed to be ingrained into the hard lines of the man’s face as long, shaggy hair hung around. He stood corrected, one of the man’s eyes was a normal, human green, while the other looked like it was a camera...something that was staring into him as he walked towards him, looking him up and down with a look Ted couldn’t quite recognize. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are the accommodations to your liking,” the man croaked, sounding somewhat like Darth Vader or some other fucking pop culture figure as he leered down at him, “Mr. Spankoffski?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted didn’t know what kind of hangover this was, but evidently, he must have stepped into a Comic-Con or something. He looked the strange cyborg-wannabe up and down with contempt, “What are you supposed to be?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am executive Andrew Kilgore,” the man croaked, the mechanical sound to his voice making Ted feel like he was in the middle of some shitty space soap opera or something,  “Manager in chief of sector nineteen. I oversee the operations of all CCRP facilities in the Western hemisphere. I ensure production remains on schedule, and enforce disciplinary measures. Here I am judge, jury, and at times, to my great satisfaction, executioner.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted sighed. So, this man must have been an over-glorified HR representative or something. He’d dealt with a lot of assholes like this in his day. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, pal, it’s not illegal to be hungover at work!” Ted defended himself, throwing his arms up to emphasize his point “And I haven’t read the constitution in a while but I am pretty sure it’s the right of every American to whack off in their office whenever their door is closed, alright? Life, liberty, and the pursuit of hap-penis.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He leaned back in his chair, believing that he’d finally made his point, but judging from the small smirk on the man’s face, something wasn’t entirely going on in Ted’s favor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Liberty!” The man suddenly roared, his mechanical laughter making ted feel all the more confused “I haven’t heard that word since the great crash, and the subsequent buyout. You don’t understand, Mr. Spankoffski.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now Ted was very confused as the mechanical monstrosity cosplay shook his head, “There are no nations any more, only corporations.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He paused for a moment before turning around and looking at Ted for a moment, the mechanical sounds of his costume’s joints making Ted cringe. God, if you were going to commit so much to a cosplay, why did you have to add sound effects? And why the hell was this guy acting like a triumphant villain in a cheesy sci-fi movie? Ted could admit that he admired the man’s commitment to character, but when Ted was getting chewed out for showing up to work hungover, it was unlikely that this was the right time.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Ted could comment how the man was freaking out on him for no reason at all, the man looked over his shoulder and smirked at him, an oddly satisfied expression on his face.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you aware what year it is, Mr. Spankoffski?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why the fuck would he ask him that question? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uhhh...2018?”  Ted responded like it was obvious before recanting his statement, “No! Nineteen!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment of silence and the weird cyborg-man, Kilgaghar or something like that, smiled slightly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re mistaken, I’m afraid,” he grinned turning more towards him, “The year is 2104...eighty-five years from the year you call home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wait...what? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted felt his eyes widen as the strange cyborg man continued. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Here you are a homeless man, Mr. Spankoffski,” he grinned, malice gleaming in his eyes, “You are the property of Coven Communications Research and Power. That means...you belong to me!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, the man reached out, his metallic hand extending across the table and wrapping around Ted’s throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall as he stalked towards him, his heavy steps echoing louder than the roar of Ted’s heartbeat in his ears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A hundred years is a long time to wait for you!” The man grinned once he’d made it closer to Ted, a steely glare in his eyes as he emphasized the last word, “Bastard!” </em>
</p><p><em> “Please…” Ted choked as the man, who apparently wasn’t a cosplayer, and had </em> really <em> strong robotic limbs, tightened his grip around his throat, “Don’t hurt me!” </em></p><p>
  <em> “You don’t remember me, do you, bastard?” the man growled, staring Ted down as he looked him up and down, glaring at him. At Ted’s lack of response, his eyes softened, as something similar to hope glinted in the man’s eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Perhaps that means it hasn’t happened yet...for you,” he mused as the strange expression of hope grew in his eyes, “Perhaps there’s still time to prevent it!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ted choked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you know what you are, bastard?” The man tilted his head at him“You are the key…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly, Ted was thrown back down into his chair, choking and sputtering as the large monstrous man began to pace around the room, his footsteps sounding like a dinosaur was on its way to kill them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Eighty-five years ago, CCRP sought to unlock the power of T’Noy Karaxis…” the man spoke, acting as if Ted, who was just now realizing that he was in danger,  should give a shit about it, “The Bastard of time and space. The weaver of impossibilities. A Lord in Black!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted had no idea what the man was talking about. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But...Tinky… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A shiver ran up his spine as he remembered the horrific, disgusting goat who’d appeared to him after his supposed wedding with Jenny.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The laughter was echoing in his ears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “To control the power of Tinky is to control time and space itself!” The man continued, looking at Ted with contempt, “They thought the experiment was a failure...but somehow...somehow you have been touched by Tinky. Perhaps the temporal rift opened in your office.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shook his head as he leaned over the table to leer at Ted, smirking down at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have been aborted from the flow of time you have become...a time bastard,” he grinned before his gaze turned strangely darker, “And somewhere...in your genetic code, is the secret power!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He jumped onto the table and grabbed at Ted’s collar, holding him up as his hand suddenly changed, the machinery interlocking with itself as it became a series of several different instruments. Ted’s heartbeat throbbed in his throat as the man dangled the weapons in front of his face, threatening to pierce through his skin as he smiled evilly down at him </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I will unravel that secret, as I dismantle your DNA! Strand by strand!” he paused, a menacing look of rage in his eyes, “You will suffer as I have suffered! Now, you shall remember me, bastard!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” Ted screamed gutturally as he reached a hand out and found a solid grip on one of the many tubes that seemingly connected the man’s chest to his neck. As he pulled a stream of air started, leaving the man to drop him and gasp on the ground. As Ted dropped to the ground, the door opened and three security guards ran in to help him reattach the tube. Seeing that he had an opening to get out of this, Ted grabbed the pitcher of steaming brown liquid and threw it in one of the guard’s faces, smashed it over the head of another, and then delivered a swift kick to the balls of the one who didn’t know what coffee was, before bolting out the door and finding his way around the offices.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> From the space behind him, he could hear the man shouting after him </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s a wily one! Sound the alarm! Stop that Bastard!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Intruder alert. Intruder alert.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cursed under his breath as he bolted around the corner, the strangely calm voice of the alarms making him move his legs faster and faster.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He rounded a corner, looking for the safety of his office when he suddenly found that there were dozens of CCRP officers waiting for him, holding weapons of all shapes and sizes that he couldn’t even begin to describe what they were for. As they started to fire, sounds bouncing off of the walls as holes began to smolder around him. He dropped to the floor and rolled under a desk, feeling like he might start crying as he crawled under desks, watching as feet ran around him, clearly having lost track of where he’d gone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, God…” he panted, “Oh, God…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He rolled out from underneath one of the desks and stood when most of the feet had vanished, but not before someone stepped in front of him, namely the guard he’d kicked in the balls. He held aloft a small metallic rectangle with a large red button on the top, looking very smug as he pointed it at Ted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Prepare to be disintegrated,” he cheered, “Asshole!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before the man could push the button, however, a large metallic hand pulled him back as the large, furious metallic monster appeared before them, tugging the man back and forcing him to drop his rectangle-thing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, you fool!” the cyborg man- had he said his name was Andrew? It seemed like a very common name for someone as badass as the man about to kill him- howled as he threw the man back, “His genes must remain intact!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The cyborg turned his attention on him, one of his metallic hands suddenly turning into a large rotating saw. Ted dove out of the way as the massive figure swiped the blade towards him, missing him barely before Ted caught sight of the weapon that the guard had dropped. He grappled at it and aimed at the man who was lumbering for him, before pressing a button and a small speck of light appeared on the cyborg’s chest.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a moment where he just stared at the small cigarette-burn-like spot of light on the man’s chest, wondering what the hell he was thinking in picking a weapon like this, but before he could dive for another weapon, the man before him began to convulse, writhing in agony as he collapsed to the ground. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “AUGHHHHHHHHH!!!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted could only watch in amazement and horror as the man’s legs began to disintegrate into yellow ash, and it spread, like a wildfire up the man’s body, before all that was left of him was a foot-tall pile of ash. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted chuckled and shook his head, pressing a kiss to the apparently wonderful weapon before sliding it into his shirt pocket. He’d have to hold on to this one.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could celebrate his victory, however, he heard the thundering sound of more footsteps down the hallway and the elevator coming to life. He caught sight of his office door and ran for it just before the elevator doors opened, slamming it shut behind him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He held his breath as he watched the shadows of the people move in front of the door, so close to opening it and finding him, he held his breath as he listened to their slightly muffled voices, feeling his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, where’d he go?” one of the voices spoke, moving closer to the door, “Let’s check in here...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ted inhaled sharply, holding his breath before a second guard spoke indignantly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No way!” the other guard protested, “I’m not going in there! That place stinks like eighty-year-old jizzum! Let’s check the breakroom.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the shadows and the footsteps moved away, leaving him in his wonderful office. He made a mental note to add ‘prevents one from being found and murdered’ to his list of reasons why jerking off in his office was a good idea before contemplating all of the big words that the Terminator-man had thrown in his face </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay...okay...there’s a temporal rift in my office…” he breathed, pacing around the room as he tried to make sense of it all,  “So...my office is a...a….time machine.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Huh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A time machine. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d always wondered what he’d do if he ended up in a time machine. Admittedly, this wasn’t it, but it was still cool. However, he knew that the last thing he wanted to do was remain here in some shitty Orwell-esque future where people were making robots that looked like his best friend’s wife and somehow everyone owned a deadly weapon. He wanted his own bed, the several bars in Hatchetfield where it was easy to pick up a chick for a self-pitying bang in a storage closet, and where the only person who was likely to kill him was Bill if he made a lewd comment about his ex-wife again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Think...think...what’d I do last time…” he paced the room, looking at the dust-covered set up that he’d called a desk, taking a seat in his well-loved chair, trying to remember what he’d done the last time he’d been in the twenty-first century, “I...I was sitting, in this chair...Printing...Ugh, it took forever… eighty-five years…” he murmured before stopping, leaning back, “...is that it?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While he was intoxicated the last time he was in this office, hungover from feeling miserable at Paul and Emma’s disgustingly perfect wedding...but he was fairly certain that this was all he had done. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is that all I have to do?” he asked himself, verbalizing his thought process quietly as he remained seated in his chair. No, it seemed too easy! And yet, that was all he could remember doing,  “Focus on a time and I’ll go there?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sighed and nodded, leaning back in his chair. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “2019,” he murmured to himself, his words slowly becoming less and less enthusiastic the more he thought about his sloppy apartment and the general lack of company he had, “2019...back to my life...Back to my wonderful...lonely...miserable life.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wait...if this was a time machine… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The cyborg’s words echoed back at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wait…” he murmured, looking at the desk and the objects that surrounded him, coming to a realization, “I’ve been aborted from the flow of time…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If that were true...he was fairly certain that meant he’d created a string of endless possible timelines...which meant the vision from the night before (or, rather, eighty-five years before)... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I was with Jenny last night!” he smiled, laughing to himself at the realization, knowing that the happiness and peace that he’d felt when he’d danced with the love of his life, “Only in a timeline where I didn’t screw everything up! A timeline where we got married!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cursed under his breath as he laughed. He couldn’t believe it! He’d spent the past fifteen years (or...one hundred, if you counted the eighty-five years he’d traveled) living with the regret that he’d managed to fuck everything up with Jenny. But now... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, not even caring that he still had a futuristic death-squad after his hide. He was filled with so much joy and pride at the moment that he knew he could make himself happy, “I can go back to 2004! I can fix it! I can fix things with Jenny and then it’ll be my wedding!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After all, if you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If you wanted happiness, you had to take it for yourself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And he wanted Jenny. Jenny would make him happy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So he needed to fix the stupid-ass mistakes that his weaker self had made.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay...got to get this right,” he murmured to himself, a smirk on his face as he settled into his chair,  “October seventeenth, 2004. October...seventeenth...2004...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before long, the darkness claimed him...and he was dreaming a dreamless sleep once more. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> KNOCK KNOCK </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom snapped up, immediately pulling his flannel back on and stopping what he was doing, mortified. He sat back up and rolled the window of the car down as he took notice of a familiar silhouette against the steamed-up window pane. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> “Oh, thank God, that’s over!” </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As anticipated, much to his further embarrassment, it was Tim.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh hey, Kiddo!” he laughed nervously, trying to prevent this situation from getting any more awkward. He and Jane had yet to have had “the talk” with Tim yet, and he wasn’t about to do it now to explain exactly what he’d been doing...with his car. His car, that possessed the soul of his wife. His dead wife.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim’s eyes were wide as he took in Tom’s disheveled appearance, “What...are you doing in there, Dad?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh,” Tom nodded, looking for anything he could do to divert this conversation about what or who he was ‘doing’, “Nothing…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim didn’t look convinced as he tilted his head in confusion, “Why are the windows all foggy?” </em>
</p><p>Shit,<em> Tom thought to himself, </em>Play dumb.</p><p>
  <em> “Are they?” he asked, looking at the windows that looked as if the temperature had dropped to the floor in the past twenty minutes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I heard you get home...and you didn’t come in,” Tim murmured, raising an eyebrow and looking Tom up and down, “Are you okay, Dad?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom had to bite back any revelation that his son’s mother was alive and merely smiled and nodded. As much as it sucked to keep something like this from Tim, he knew that it was better to keep it a secret until Jane had a body and she could hold their boy again. Besides, it was her wish that it be that way, and he didn’t want to mentally scar his son for the rest of his life. So instead of telling Tim the full truth, he simply smiled and nodded </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah...yeah! I feel like a million bucks,” Well, that was the truth, but he wouldn’t disclose the exact reason why, “I really do!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim looked a little confused for a moment, so Tom simply scooted forward and leaned out the side window to face his son, “You know, the two of us have been through a lot together,” he said gently, unable to keep a small smile off of his face,  “Been through a rough patch, recently, but I think things are finally starting to turn around! What do you think, pal?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tim shrugged, still slightly off-put by Tom’s suddenly cheery demeanor, “I guess…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom sighed. Soon his son would feel better once he had his mother back. Things could be happy again once Jane was here. He smiled and leaned closer, almost knocking his head against the top edge of the window as he did. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tell you what...what d’ya say we do something fun this weekend?” he asked. Maybe some family time was what they needed. Just the three of them, “Go to a drive-in movie? Hmm? As a family? How does that sound? Just the three of us?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’d like that,” Tim nodded happily, “I like Miss Becky.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> CRACK </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, God. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom’s blood ran cold as he was suddenly reminded of the wonderful place that Becky now held in their lives. Not only had his son just revealed it but now that Jane knew...Tom suddenly found himself terrified for what she would do in response. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wagered a small glance over at the side mirror, to see that it now had a long, lightning-bolt-looking crack running up the center of it. No doubt about it now, Jane knew.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh...uh…” Tom murmured, trying to find a proper recovery, but his son wasn’t finished yet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No one could ever replace Mom...but, Becky’s really nice!” Tim smiled, looking happy and content at the memory of them at Pizza Pete’s, one of Tom’s own favorite memories, “I like when she stays over. She makes really good pancakes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom could hear his heart beating in his chest, sounding like a large monster was trampling its way down the street to devour him whole. Jane was being silent, but he knew that the second Tim would leave, he was in for it. In some ways, this was different from any previous times in which Jane would be displeased with him. In some ways, he knew, this could have far deadlier consequences. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why don’t you…” he started, keeping his voice even so it didn’t worry the boy, “...Head on in, son?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh...okay, Dad,” Tim nodded, smiling softly, “Are you coming in too?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-Yeah,” Tom nodded,  his heart pounded in his chest as something like terror tightened around it, “I hope so...we’ll see...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay…” Tim nodded, and he watched his son leave through the garage door, looking back at him for a mere moment before shutting the door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Tom was alone with Jane. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Jane...Jane,” He stammered, trying to explain himself without having to lie,  “Lemme explain why Tim is confused. When I said the three of us-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shut up!” She snapped, making him jump, “Just shut up! Now I want the truth out of you, Tom! What the hell is going on between you and...Becky Barnes…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now?” he asked, stuttering on his words, not wanting to lie but not wanting to make it seem like Becky was an ‘other woman’ in their marriage, “Ever since I found out you were a car...I mean...it’s over with her!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s over?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane’s voice was the most terrifying form of cool anger. He could practically hear the seam at which she contained her rage bursting </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Noth-” he stammered, knowing how pointless it was to try and hide this from her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not stupid, Tom!” she yelled, “I’m a car! And...I understand that you thought I was dead...given time, I can learn to forgive you and your infidelity...but it’s gonna take a lot of work on my end.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-yeah...I-” he murmured, looking down, ashamed of himself, “I’m sorry...thank you, Jane…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So you’re gonna have to do some work as well,” Jane snapped, “And I don’t wanna hear any whining! The next time I tell you to run a woman over...are we clear?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom blinked. He couldn’t believe he was taking this seriously...but the truth remained that he was more afraid of Jane than he was of anything else...especially when she was in the form of a homicidal car. He didn’t want to know what consequences would have happened if he disagreed with her again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Crystal.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” Jane sighed, her voice still filled with bitterness “Put on your seatbelt.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tom felt his heart twist in his chest as the heavy weight of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why?” he murmured, his voice strained by the fear, “Where are we going?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “To Becky’s house,” Jane said simply, sounding as if her teeth were grit, and he could picture the cool rage in her blue eyes, “You’re gonna end this ‘nothing’ that’s been going on behind my backseat.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wordlessly and compliantly, he climbed into the front seat and pulled his seatbelt on over him and clicked it, not even having to turn the key to turn the car on as Jane had already taken care of that herself. In an eerily silent night, they pulled out of the garage and began to make their way to the side of the suburban area of the town that was joined with the Witchwoods, where Becky lived.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In some ways, he felt like he was only haphazardly steering, that the majority of the driving was conducted by Jane herself. He felt like he could feel her rage simmering beneath the material of the  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His heart pounded in his chest. He could end things with Becky. There was no problem with doing that...especially when the chance came that Jane could kill both him and Becky in the event he resisted. He didn’t know how long he had before Jane could gain the ability to drive herself, but if he wanted to make sure that Becky was safe from his murderous undead car wife, he needed to appease her. It broke his heart to know that he would hurt Becky in this way. It hurt him more than anything to know that at the end of this night she would think he’d lost his mind, but what he needed was to make sure that she was safe. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> But...Becky was safe. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Safer than he’d been, at least. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> She wasn’t trapped here with him, which was more than he could hope for. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> Tim was safe too. </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> He needed to- </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> “That’s right, Tom! Come back to us!” </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Alright, here we are…” Jane’s voice snapped him out of his reverie, allowing him to realize that they’d pulled in front of a small, cottage-like house backed up against the witchwoods. The home of Becky was illuminated in the spotlight-like light of the car’s headlights through the dense fog, “Go ahead.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a sigh, Tom unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to take the car keys out of the ignition, before Jane stopped him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No!” she snapped, “Keep me running! I don’t wanna get cold.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But-” he stammered, wanting to just turn her off so she couldn’t hurt anyone while he tried to get things done in the safest possible way. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I mean...this shouldn’t take too long, right?” she said dangerously, a warning in her voice. He could imagine her expression of warning, her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed as she glared at him, “It was nothing, after all.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He swallowed hard, the hollow feeling in his stomach making him feel sick as he nodded, “Right.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He got out of the car and slowly sauntered up, feeling like a deer in the headlights as he approached Becky’s front porch. Though the car lacked eyes, he could feel Jane’s gaze on him, almost as if someone was aiming a sniper at his heart. Slowly and deliberately, he rang the doorbell and waited, hoping with all his might that Becky might not have been home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a sickening thud in his stomach, he was proven wrong as the lights in the window turned on and the front door opened, revealing Becky, her red hair down and dangling beautifully over her shoulders, and wearing her teal scrubs, indicating that she’d just gotten off of a shift. She looked up at him and smiled that wonderful smile up at him, making him momentarily forget about the fear and dread that was fostering in his heart. </em>
</p><p><em> “Well…this is a surprise,” she smiled, leaning up against the doorframe, looking him up and down. Had it not been for the steely glare that he could </em> feel <em> coming from the car behind him, he would have wanted to kiss her right there. Whatever he wanted didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping Becky safe. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Hey, Beck…” he murmured, his voice strained by fear, “Can we-um...can we talk inside?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled and nodded slightly, opening the door wider for him and allowing him entrance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He swallowed hard as the feeling of dread didn’t subside, making him feel like he should throw up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No matter what happened tonight, he knew he couldn’t win. He would do anything to ensure that Jane didn’t take out whatever rage she had on Becky. He’d do anything to make sure that Jane was appeased. As long as it kept them from being shattered again, he’d do it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was nothing he couldn’t fix. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And he needed to fix this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before it was too late. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Just hang in there, Tom! They’re coming for you!”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em> Hannah stared up at the redheaded woman with green eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A woman whom she felt she knew in some way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was like her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She knew her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d summoned her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To help her save them, and even free an extra soul along the way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But not entirely yet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d not yet entered her own body. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Needless to say, it was no surprise to her when the woman leaned down and smiled at Hannah. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello, Hannah,” the woman smiled sweetly, “I’m Miss Holloway.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And for the first time in what felt like forever, Hannah smiled up at her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know.” </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>“Are you ready?”</p><p>Emma was. </p><p>She’d been ready for this since Paul had first been pulled into the dimension of darkness.</p><p>Emma settled down into her chair, looking at Paul for a moment before Miss Holloway nodded at all of them, John and Xander communicating with the medical personnel to check consistently on their vitals. She could hear commands echoing throughout the room, but she could only keep her focus on the mission at hand. At what she was about to do. At Paul.</p><p>She wagered a glance at Paul and looked at his sleeping form, looking like he was simply sleeping through a mission of the utmost importance.</p><p>“We’re gonna get you back,” she whispered, believing it with everything she had, reaching over and taking his limp hand in hers and squeezing it softly, “I promise.”</p><p>This was a promise she was not going to break.</p><p>As Miss Holloway moved her hands, she turned her attention to the two Foster girls, a small look of determination on her face. One of her eyes, Emma had noticed, had turned a bright shade of yellow, contrasting with the shade of black of the other, no doubt meaning that she’d found a connection with Hannah and Lex.</p><p>Her voice was powerful and resonated throughout the room, delivering a command that meant that their mission had begun. </p><p>“Now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whooo....that was a hefty one. This ended up being a little longer than I planned thanks to the NT scenes buildup, but...they're off to the races!!</p><p>Emma loves Paul. In case I've not emphasized that enough...she loves him and she wants him back.</p><p>Lucy is a sweetheart (and "Konk" is a lying bastard).</p><p>Bill needs a hug and maybe some therapy (Barker you creepy fuck get away from him)</p><p>Paul is very confused and concerned but he loves Emma so he'll stick with it. God, I sure hope this doesn't go wrong for him /s</p><p>Ted...is still Ted.</p><p>Tom...is kinda in a precarious situation. Becky or Jane help this man. </p><p>Hannah knows all and deserves the world. </p><p>And so...the mission begins...</p><p>Please leave comments or kudos if you would like!! Seriously, comments make my day and I love reading what you all think of this. I know this was a long kinda linkage chapter, but it's gonna pick up a lot in the next few chapters so bear with me!!</p><p>As always, thank you so much for reading my work!! It really makes my day to know you guys enjoy this!!! Please stay safe and healthy and be kind to yourself and others!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. How Long Can You Live Underwater</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The mission™ Part One </p>
<p>Will anything go wrong? Who knows?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*unholy screeching* I'm so sorry this chapter took forever!! Figuring out a flow for it was a disaster and it usually left me screeching at my computer in frustration as I tried to figure it out. But here we are! It works now (and hopefully doesn't suck) and the next few chapters should be following pretty closely under the assumption ✨life✨ doesn't get in the way.</p>
<p>The chapter title for this comes from the song "Life Underwater" by Flagship.</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Injuries, beartrap maulings, guns, gunshots, blood, descriptions of pain, nudity ( not graphic, but it's worth mentioning because the Hatchetfield Ape-Man did that), mentions of abuse and beatings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Webby could feel the energy from the Witchwoods surge as the Witch used her abilities, trying to bring back the people she’d condemned to a life of torment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They would try to break them out, and it was up to her as to whether or not she wanted to let them out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind her, her siblings were in an uproar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>They’ll be freed,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Apatha was fuming, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The witch will free them, and then we’ll be without some of our most powerful assets.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only just got my favorite!” Blinky was whining, his eye darting around furiously, “I think I’m gonna cry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh grow up!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha snapped, pacing around, her fury seemingly covering the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To her side, Tinky was rolling his box around, humming softly to himself. Of course, he wasn’t bothered by the chances that the people they’d trapped might be freed. After all, his bastard had the lesser chance of being free out of all of them, especially since he’d claimed the soul of the man definitively. The fact that he was so nonchalant about it all was doing nothing to calm the fury of Webby’s siblings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand what all the fussy-wuss is about,” Tinky mused, now tossing the box between his hands, “We’ll still have the bastard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha screeched, rage filling her musical tone, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My favorite cannot be free. Not yet!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about me?!” Nibbly whined, “I haven’t picked someone yet!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh shut up!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha shouted, her voice filled with anger, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You haven’t picked a favorite for centuries!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is why you don’t pick a favey…” Wiggly said nonchalantly, “They’ll always come back and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, like you haven’t picked a favorite with all of your prophets!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apatha shot back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“With all of the praying and singing that you instill zealotry!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about you?!” Wiggly shrieked, “You have a whole host of people singing your pwaises!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Enough!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby turned on her siblings, having had enough of their bickering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we or are we not Lords of chaos?” she demanded of her siblings, her glare seemingly shutting them up for the time being, “Well...are we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are,” Tinky nodded, still oblivious to the fact that they’d been arguing at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And were we not born from the dimension of total darkness,” she went on, pacing in front of them as they all seemed to shrink back in fear of her rising voice, “Capable of wreaking havoc in any plane of existence we touch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all murmured in agreement, suddenly looking ashamed of themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then, why,” Webby inquired as she stepped in front of her siblings, looking down on them with much contempt, “Would you abandon your faith in this family through the workings of </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>insignificant little witch?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were all silent as she continued to pace around them, looking at each of them as they avoided the gaze of her several ruby-red eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what if the Witch tries to free them?” Webby demanded of them, “Does Blinky still see what his favorite should?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinky looked down, ashamed of himself, “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And is Tinky’s bastard still firm in our grasp?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tinky smiled and nodded eagerly, “Of course!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what does it matter that Holloway tries to free them?” Webby asked, “We still have the upper hand in this situation. So let them assume they have their wins...whether or not they succeed in freeing the victims, we still have them exactly where we want them. So, if this stage in the game ends a little sooner than we planned, are we going to complain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apatha muttered something under her breath and Webby felt rage fill her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apatha was like a petulant child. When she picked a favorite, she wanted to do whatever the hell it was that she wanted with him. Paul Matthews, of course, being a descendant of Willabella Muckwab, had been something of a joy for her, and bringing the man torment was something that had brought her younger sister so much joy that she didn’t understand. Of course, the fact that Apatha had claimed the man’s soul for her own made the Nightmare Time game something of the human winter holiday for her. Apatha was anxiously awaiting for the moment Paul would die...but now that there was a chance that they’d be freed...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Webby glared at her sister, “We’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apatha looked down with anger in her gaze, tapping her foot to a rhythm that her followers on the other side of the island were singing and dancing to. Webby didn’t care. If Apatha was going to act like a human child in this regard, then she deserved to be treated as such. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The plan stays the same,” Webby told her siblings, “If any move is made to change it, you will have me to answer to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apatha scoffed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that a threat, sister?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” Webby nodded without hesitation, “The plan will continue as we have laid it out and if some of them escape...so be it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s easy for you to believe in,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Apatha sneered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You see the future.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see the possibilities,” Webby corrected, glaring at her sister, “I’ve gotten us this far...and you think you would be wise enough to trust me at this point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, they all went silent and Webby turned back, her many eyes stretching into the world beyond what humans could see, seeing what each and every one of her victims was seeing and therefore what her siblings could not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As far as her eyes could see, they still had the upper hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They would still win.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It had begun.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It hadn’t taken much for Hannah to feel the pull of energy as a fourth soul was added to the house that Lex’s worst Nightmares had built. In fact, Hannah felt that tug as near to her heart as if someone she was bonded to had entered the world she’d made. She could practically hear the silent incantations the other witch she’d summoned into this world issued to grant herself access, and as she stared up at the red-haired woman before her, she knew that the time had come for her and the others to be made free. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The memories had come back slowly at first...trickling down like raindrops against a windowpane.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It had started when she’d heard Duke allow the woman into the trailer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She saw flashes of a family.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of warm hugs amidst hardship. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of love and protection, Lex had never thought they’d ever have.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of people who wanted to keep her safe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of the day they’d been torn apart.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then, suddenly, upon seeing the new woman’s face, the memories overtook her like a tidal wave, reminding her of the fact that the world she was seeing wasn’t real.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing was. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was all an illusion. A trap. A making of misery that was designed to keep her until she couldn’t fight anymore...and she remembered what she had done to stop it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The memories made her laugh, but they also made her grow more serious. If she were being honest, when she went after Lexi, she wasn’t sure they’d understand to follow her, but now that she was looking up at the dead woman that she’d summoned back, she knew it was a success.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex had been taken from her, so she thought of a way to get her back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d known that summoning a dead woman would be something difficult for her to accomplish, and once she’d made it into Nightmare Time, she’d lost any recollection that this wasn’t her reality. Her Momma no longer hurt her or tried to make her feel like she was insignificant. The fact that Webby had been able to trap her in a web where she couldn’t remember what it felt like to be free of that life...it was terrifying to her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But now she knew. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could remember her life before the Nightmare. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A life where she’d been safe with people who loved her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a dirty trick of Webby’s to leave her trapped in some version of her life where she was forced to believe Webby was her friend. An absent friend, of course, but still a friend. At times, before Webby’s true colors had been revealed, Hannah had felt like Webby was sometimes the only person besides Lex that she could trust completely. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d been right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew they’d be there for them. She knew they’d come for them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew she’d done well to summon the right person...that way Duke could be freed as well. As she stared up at the woman with red hair and a thick denim jacket over her shoulders, she recognized the shades of maroon and black flow over her eyes before suddenly the woman tensed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss Holloway?” Duke asked, looking at her, “You alright?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>On those words, the woman suddenly relaxed with a small sigh, a relieved look in her eyes as she opened them, a look of gentleness and softness as she looked around the surroundings of the trailer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Welcome,” Hannah smiled, making the woman turn and look down at her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Miss Holloway’s green eyes focused on her, she smiled.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello, Hannah,” she said smiling down at her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss Holloway,” Hannah greeted happily, “You came.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, a soft smile on her face, “That was very smart of you to choose me and summon me back to the real world.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah flushed slightly and looked down, not used to compliments of this nature.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway knelt before her, a soft look in her eyes, “You’re truly more powerful than you know, Hannah…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke’s confused voice cut through the silence of the moment, making Miss Holloway freeze, her eyes going wide. The woman stood and turned to see Duke standing there, an odd expression of hope and recognition crossing her gaze as she took in the confused man standing before her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah smiled as a soft smile crossed Miss Holloway’s face, tears filling her green eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head, her bulky retro earrings almost getting tangled in her hair as she smiled at the man before her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Douglas Keane,” she breathed, smiling wide at him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke looked confused for a moment, studying Miss Holloway as if he didn’t understand what she meant before his eyes widened and his face softened. Hannah could practically see the energy wash over him as memory was restored, painting him in the colors of real-life and memory and not the scheme that Webby had cursed him to fill. In his eyes, Hannah could see a sense of renewed life and happiness that seemed to fill him, making him seem as though he were now less of a wandering soul and more of a weary traveler returning home. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Darlin’...” he breathed, his green eyes widening as he looked at her, his mouth agape with shock.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a moment when the two of them just stood there as if neither of them had yet grasped the fact that they were standing in front of the other. Hannah knew what had happened to them. Hannah knew what Webby had done to destroy their happiness, to make them suffer for opposing her. Just as she had done for several people who loved the other, Webby had driven them apart to separate places of torment. In Duke and Miss Holloway’s case, they’d been killed and separated on different planes of existence...and now, Hannah was watching them reunite for the first time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Without another word, Hannah watched as Duke rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Miss Holloway, burying his face in her neck. Hannah only smiled wider at their reunion, knowing how long the two of them had been apart. How much the two of them had seen together. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The two of them had been killed for their resistance, trying to save people like her from falling into the Witch’s web before it was too late. They’d been killed because they fought against forces like Webby. Forces that sought to snuff out all light in the world.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah could only smile as she watched the lovely reunion between the two as Miss Holloway leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Duke’s lips, the look in her eyes was gentle and looking as though she’d wanted to do something like that for a while. In some ways, it was both gentle but passionate, as if a simple reunion was the precursor to many more that would come </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke unleashed a breathy chuckle as he pulled back and took her in, “You...you’re here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded tearfully, “Yeah…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But…” Duke murmured, his eyes filled with disbelief as he pulled back, his hands cupping her face gently, “How? Y-You...You died.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded sadly, looking down, “Yes...I did. And so did you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>One of her hands gently went to Duke’s chest, where Hannah knew a black knife had pierced his body and left him for dead shortly after the same knife had taken Miss Holloway’s life. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry, Duke,” Miss Holloway sighed, “I’m sorry that I ever dragged you into this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke chuckled tearfully, cupping her face, shaking his head, “Darlin’ that was part of the deal...I told you I wanted to run with you. That’s what I did...but how-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He whirled around, confusion filling his eyes, “Where are we?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stuck,” Hannah said sagely, the two undead adults turning to look at her as if they were just now remembering that they weren’t alone, “Trapped. Didn’t know we were here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “When they killed you and I...they cursed you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cursed?” Duke’s eyes were wide, “What do you mean ‘cursed’?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Webby cursed you as a wanderer,” Miss Holloway explained, “You do what you normally did in life with me...finding children who need my help...but you do it in a domain of darkness.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A domain of darkness,” Duke looked around, “Yep, that describes Pamela’s trailer.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah giggled and shook her head, growing more serious as she remembered where they were, “No...Nightmare Time…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke was silent for a moment, his eyes filling with recognition of the word. He turned to Miss Holloway, his eyes wide, “Is that true?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway looked down, her eyes filled with regret, “It’s true.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, Duke looked around, as if he was still processing the information, before his eyes finally landed on Hannah.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She cursed a kid?!” he asked, turning to Miss Holloway with incredulity.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well...yes,” Miss Holloway shrugged, “But not this kid.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s another one?” Duke asked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah nodded sagely, “Lexi…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The memory of what had happened to her sister before Hannah had made the decision to follow her into the dark was something that was both sickening and terrifying. When she’d entered this world, all of the memories of her life on the outside had been washed away, making her believe that she was still with </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway knelt in front of Hannah, studying Hannah intently, “Webby had an agent of her siblings attack several people from the world above. They’re all trapped in their own Nightmare Time’s...Hannah’s sister, Lex, was one of them.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> “Followed her,” Hannah croaked, looking down at the ground, “Could fix it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s right,” Miss Holloway smiled, “She summoned me back.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah nodded up at the woman, a soft smile on her face, “Needed help. Needed a witch.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So…” Duke murmured, “She summoned you back so you could free them?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Or...at the very least give other people a way to save them.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah nodded, “Need to find them. Trapped in Nightmare Time...need to save them.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The red-haired witch smiled and nodded once more, “That’s correct.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In some ways, Hannah felt as if she shouldn’t get her hopes up just yet, although Miss Holloway had succeeded in accessing the Nightmare Time that Lex had created, she knew that keeping the spell alive while other people went in and out. In some ways, the mere presence of the woman lifted some of the weight of despair that seemed to hang in the air, but how long would it last?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway could seemingly read her mind in the way she stood and straightened her jacket, nodding as if she was getting back to business mode. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We don’t have a lot of time before Webby tries to send some intervention,” she said, looking at Pamela’s limp form on the couch, “I have no doubt she already knows we’re here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke sighed and nodded, “How do we get out of here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Back door,” Hannah chirped before scurrying between the two of them and heading for the door.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she wrenched the rusty door open, the screech of the metal scraping against the metal making her cringe, she could hear Duke murmur “Back door?” in a question directed to Miss Holloway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a pocket dimension, Douglas,” Miss Holloway chuckled, slipping her hand into his, “Two people on the outside created it. They were soul-bonded, and in some ways, it acts as an escape route.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Open,” Hannah murmured as she stepped out into the cool evening night, the sound of crickets and bugs greeting her as the silence of the forest night seemed to envelop them. In some ways, the light of the moon, barely visible through the thick canopy of naked trees was barely visible, making a shiver run up her spine. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sun had not yet set when Duke had brought over Miss Holloway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The fact that it was night now made it clear that Webby knew they were there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She knows,” Hannah murmured, looking up at Miss Holloway with a grave expression.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman sighed and nodded, looking like she was preparing to fight a battle, “Follow me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway let go of Duke’s hand and moved ahead of Hannah, walking with purpose. In her green eyes, Hannah could see an almost militant manner in the way she moved. She could see a determination to get them all out of there as she led them to a large tree, the wood damaged and cracking, making the inside of the trunk look hollow. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wordlessly, Miss Holloway walked over to the hollow tree and placed her hand on the exposed wood, closing her eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Over the loud noises of the woods, Hannah could hear the silent words of a wordless incantation flowing through the wind, the Witch’s power flowing into the tree, when the light started to spread from the place she’d placed her hand. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>After a moment, Miss Holloway stepped back, revealing what looked like a doorway of light in the trunk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke’s eyes were wide as he smiled at Miss Holloway, “God, you’re amazing.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re cute…” Miss Holloway smiled and shook her head, “This doorway is going to lead you to the pocket dimension where you’ll be safe. You and Hannah are going to stay there until I get Lex back...we’ll meet the others there when they complete their mission and we’ll be returned to normal life.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait…” Duke spoke, his voice shocked, “You’re staying in here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just to get Lex,” Miss Holloway assured him, “You need to stay with Hannah, and I’ll join you both shortly.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a moment of silence as Duke sighed as if trying to accept the fact that she was leaving them again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey,” Miss Holloway sighed, smiling comfortingly at him as she squeezed his shoulder, “We’re already dead, Duke. What’s the worst that could happen?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s Webby, Darlin’,” he murmured, “We both know what she’s capable of.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “But we can’t leave Lex in here...you know that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed as she took his hands gently, looking down at them for a second before looking up at her. In some ways, Hannah could understand where he was coming from. They’d been torn apart for so long through the wrath of Webby. If they were to get caught again, the fact remained that they didn’t know what would happen. Most of all, however, Hannah knew that Duke’s main fear was trapped in the fact that he’d just gotten her back, and he didn’t want to lose her again.,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded before smiling softly at her, “All part of the job, huh?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know it,” she smiled warmly before looking down at Hannah, “You know what to do?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah nodded. She did.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded and knelt before her, “You must wait for me and Lex, as well as the others, so we can all be free together. I just need you to wait for me, Hannah...okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, a small determined look going onto her face, “Bring Lexi back.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I will,” Miss Holloway nodded, “I promise.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, Miss Holloway stepped back, gesturing to the doorway of light for Duke and Hannah to enter, but Duke stayed in his spot.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just got you back,” he murmured.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And it’ll stay that way, love,” Miss Holloway smiled comfortingly, “What did I say to you when we first met?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke chuckled under his breath, “‘Sir, I’m in need of your car’?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway chuckled slightly and shook her head, “After that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke’s eyes softened, “You told me...to trust you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Miss Holloway nodded, “And do you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke smiled and nodded, “Yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway smiled warmly, “Then keep an eye on Hannah, and I’ll be back before you know it. I promise. I’ll get Lex and then the mission will continue.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How many are there?” Duke asked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eight if you count you and Hannah,” Miss Holloway sighed, “There’s a young woman named Lucy, a forty-something father named Bill, a slightly younger father named Tom, a man named Ted, a man named Paul, and Lex.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And they were all trapped in Nightmare Time by Webby?” He asked, his voice sounding like it was filled with a great deal of personal affront, which would have made sense seeing as how he’d been murdered and trapped here for a while.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Hannah nodded sagely, “Used. Trapped. Didn’t deserve it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nobody deserves this,” Duke mused, his eyes tracing around the dark forest that surrounded them“What are our odds?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> “Not that great,” Miss Holloway shrugged, “But are they ever?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled again and reached out, taking Miss Holloway’s hand in his own, “How long has it been?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway’s face fell, her eyes falling to her chest, where Hannah knew Wilbur Cross had stabbed her, taking her life in an attempt to extinguish their resistance to the Lords in Black. Hannah knew that they’d both bee</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A little bit over a year, ” she murmured, “Still too long in my opinion.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke looked down, “When you died...I-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway held up a finger, “Later, dear… right now, we’ve more pressing matters to deal with.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, “Of course.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah offered him her hand, “We go together.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a small smile, he took her hand, looking at Miss Holloway as Hannah took the initiative to lead them to the doorway of light, the sound of soft humming and the smell of fresh flowers beckoning them forward.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I will be there soon,” Miss Holloway called after them, “Once you’re in, you may see some familiar faces, that Hannah will undoubtedly recognize. Do not be afraid. Corrupt souls may not enter the daydream, so once you’re inside, you’ll be safe. Just stay there, and wait for me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah nodded, before squeezing Duke’s hand, providing the somewhat nervous man what comfort she could before stepping through the doorway of light. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost instantly, she could feel what little darkness that had weighed her soul down melting away, and warmth swelled over her as if she’d just stepped outside during a pleasant spring afternoon. Though the sky was overcast, reflecting the emotion of one of the people who’d created the domain, she could see bright pops of red and orange covering the field of flowers that Emma and Paul had once described.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah could have never imagined such beauty. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The field was absolutely covered in the pops of red, orange, and burgundy, and she recognized the three main types of flowers altogether. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love lies bleeding. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Poppies.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Marigolds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The warm colors seemingly greeted her as she caught sight of a white-painted farmhouse in the distance, the gentle breeze causing the petals to sway gracefully.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Unbelievable,” Duke murmured beside her, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the lovely field before him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Safe,” Hannah murmured, “For now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew that until this mission was completed successfully not all of them would be safe...and while she couldn’t sense any resistance from the being who’d trapped them in Nightmare Time, she knew that there was no way it would be that easy. They still had a long way to go before they were all completely free.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She and Duke might have been freed from Nightmare Time, but there were still six other souls left to save...and she could only see the several possibilities of what could happen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It almost felt as if she were staring at several thousand different threads, and the course of time was hanging in the balance of which strand they should choose to weave into its tapestry. Of course, it didn’t help that Webby could be the great weaver of the past and the present...and even more so, could become something of a problem.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, she couldn’t worry about something like that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not when the matter at hand was so important. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>First, they’d try and free everyone, and then they could worry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It had begun.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reset No. 6</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Date:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>End Days</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway opened her eyes for the first time since the mission had begun twenty minutes before, causing John to release the breath he’d been holding in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to Ethan, who’d been standing beside the door since the mission had begun, looking at Lex and Hannah anxiously, as if he were waiting for the moment that something would go wrong. Upon seeing that the redheaded witch was looking at him, his eyes widened, making John hold his breath. Miss Holloway nodded and John felt something like relief fill his veins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got Hannah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan unleashed a shuddering breath. His eyes wide as he slowly walked over to Lex and Hannah’s bedsides, tears filling his eyes in a way that made John’s heart twist. In some ways that seemed like that was the only news the boy had been wanting to hear since they’d both been taken. Everyone in the room clapped slightly and hope seemed to flow in, hope and determination that they’d previously been lacking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fact that somehow they’d found their youngest was something hopeful for all of them. It meant that this mission could be a success for them all if they worked hard enough and fast enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan looked like he was at a loss for words as he approached Lex and Hannah’s beds, looking at them both with a spark of hope that John hadn’t seen in the boy’s eyes since before Lex and Hannah had been taken. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lex?” he breathed, the question of whether or not Lex herself had been retrieved yet hanging in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway shook her head, “Not yet, but I know where she is. It’s not going to take long to find her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan nodded as if he was still comprehending the fact, “But...But we got Hannah back?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway smiled warmly, “We did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed slightly in relief as he looked at Ethan, who looked so consumed by relief that he might start crying. In some ways, this was a win that the boy had needed for a very long time. If John was being honest with himself, this was news that everyone needed to hear. Of course, Miss Holloway had been the one to go in and retrieve her, making things a little bit more difficult for anyone without the knowledge of the Black and White that she had, but given how many times they’d debriefed these travelers on what they were supposed to do, it seemed as if the knowledge that it could be done put them more at ease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes traced over to Hidgens, whose steely glare had been left uncompromised throughout the course of the mission. In his eyes, John could see an iron-like resolve. According to their plan, the old man would be the next person to go in and try to rescue Lucy, who’d been declining relatively steadily in comparison to the rest of the patients, following the rate they’d wanted them to follow. Despite not being one of the closest people to their war with the Black and White, seeing Lucy be one of the seven people afflicted by her own worst nightmare was horrifying for John to consider. She was such a light in a world shrouded by shadow and pain, and somehow she brought brightness and happiness to their group. Hell, had she and Chumby not joined their group when they did, he was fairly certain they all would have been dead in Hidgens’ caves by now, not safely reunited with their family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing around the room, at the other three people who were supposed to go in after Hidgens, John could recognize a little more resolve among them. He could see the way that Alice was looking at her dad, a small smile on her face as she silently resolved to go in and save him, even though hers would likely be one of the riskier missions, seeing as how her father was a favorite of Blinky. He could see Becky murmuring something softly to herself as if she was silently promising to get Tom back despite the chances that her body could get stolen from her by a corrupt version of his deceased wife. He could see Emma remaining rigid, looking down at her stomach and stealing slight glances at Paul, knowing that she was willing to do anything and everything to get them back. Most of all, he could see renewed hope. He could see the determination to get this mission correct. He could see a resolve to save those that they’d lost and bring them back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway turned to Hidgens and nodded in his direction, “Professor, are you ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a slightly dramatic fashion, the man nodded curtly and leaned back against the gurney, “Whenever you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded and turned to John and Xander, “The second traveler going in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get the time,” John gestured to Xander, who recorded it on the computer before them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time is seven forty-six,” Xander responded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vitals stable?” John asked, turning to Phillipa, who was keeping track of the traveler’s vitals, while Kamaria kept track of the victims’ vitals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Traveler vitals are stable,” Phillipa responded, before turning to her wife to follow up with a report.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Victim’s heart rate is a little elevated,” Kamaria noted, “But she’s stable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” John nodded before turning to Miss Holloway, who was looking at them expectantly, her power and energy filling the room with a kaleidoscope of color, “Ready when you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded softly and turned to Hidgens, “It’s going to be overwhelming at first, but remember...you have to find Lucy above all else. Her memory of this world will take a little while to restore, but you must convince her of the truth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens nodded solemnly, “Understood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded again, “Once you’ve found her and restored her memory of what had happened, a doorway of light should appear before you. Go through it with Lucy and the two of you will be safe in Paul and Emma’s daydream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hidgens nodded in understanding, his hands gripping at the railing around the gurney in preparation, “I’m ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Miss Holloway murmured something under her breath and extended a hand in Hidgens direction, one of her eyes turning a shade of light purple as she did, indicating that she’d found a connection with Lucy. As the energy stretched forward and made contact with Hidgens, John felt like he was watching the man fall under the influence of a sedative as his muscles relaxed and he sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John silently prayed that the man would bring Lucy back to them. Though he didn’t trust the man entirely, the fact that he’d agreed to help them and had made moves to help them get the people they cared about back, allowed John to grant the man some kind of credence. He only hoped to whatever God existed that it would work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If ever there was a time to trust him,” Xander murmured, looking at John and seemingly reading his expression of unease, “Now is it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, he hoped this would work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens could barely comprehend the sounds and colors that were surrounding him as the world around him started to melt away, several muffled voices crescendoing over all other sounds in his ears. It felt as if he could see everything and nothing as he found himself being pulled through space and time, only it was in the form of Lucy’s mentality. Had he the time, he would have spent hours staring in awe at the colors of Lucy’s mind, the sound of her voice being jumbled amongst others, introducing him to the world she’d been trapped in for nearly five weeks. While Hidgens didn’t know the woman all that well, he knew that she had been a source of hope and positivity for a lot of the existing survivors, which made her admirable enough in his regard. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he passed through the several shades of light purple and grey, the shades of the world he’d once known fading away, he could feel the pull of something unpleasant in his chest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>We meet again.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His heart could have stopped at the sound of his own voice echoing in his head as he realized just who was talking to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I’m surprised to see you back so soon.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He paid his own corrupted spirit no mind. He was himself. He’d cleaved this terrible, contorted version of himself when he’d left Nightmare Time. Of course, back then he’d thought he was walking out of his personal hell for good. Never before did he ever think that he’d enter a place like this willingly ever again. Still, their world was at stake and there were lives to save.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Welcome to the show, Henry.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up,” he snapped at his own mind as the blurs of color and light started to solidify into shapes and colors around him. He’d known this would happen. He knew the time would come for his own mind to try and sink its claws into him once more. That was something he simply would not condone, “You’re not real.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Not real?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens shook his head, trying to block out the sound of his own voice as it taunted him, trying to find any place in his own mind that he would find refuge, but the voice was so loud. Still, he shook his head and ignored it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>You’ll never really be free of me, Henry. You know that.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop,” Hidgens murmured to himself, “You have no control here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>We’ll see.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, the pull was gone and everything around him settled into place, and he found himself standing in his greenhouse.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was almost as if the world had been painted in shades of green and grey as if he’d stepped into some conjuring of Tim Burton. Outside the mostly-steamed-up glass, Hidgens could see rain pattering gently, running down the sides of the windows as the world was slowly descending into dusk. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was here. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The greenhouse looked a lot better-kept than he supposed it would have looked in real life. Though, when he really thought about it, he hadn’t seen the greenhouse since before he’d been killed by the demon of the Black and White and his body had been made a puppet. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was then that he took notice of all of the candles lining the perimeter of the room, each of them dripping yellowy-white wax everywhere and somehow not catching any of the surrounding foliage. In addition, the ground on which he stood seemed to be littered with several rose petals, shades of red, blush, and white all intermingling to set a romantic and warm mood. It wasn’t until Hidgens looked at the ground on which he stood that he realized very quickly that he had no clothes on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Embarrassment immediately filled him and he looked up to see who had addressed him, almost immediately was taken aback.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Standing in front of him was Lucy, dressed in a cream-colored skirt and lavender blouse, her hair neatly curled as she stood before…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ted?” he asked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Standing before him, wearing nothing but his birthday suit and what looked like a clip-on bowtie, was Ted Spankoffski, one of the other victims. Of course, he knew Miss Holloway had mentioned that Ted was in Lucy’s Nightmare Time, masquerading as the Ape-Man that Lucy had known in the real world and had endeavored throughout the majority of her adult life to find, what he hadn’t expected to find was Ted in the middle of attempting a proposal...or that they’d both be naked for that matter.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The man’s eyes widened as he looked at him, an expression that only could have meant ‘what the hell are you doing?’ on his face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor, I’m very confused,” Lucy murmured, looking stupefied as she took in his nude stature. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forgive me!” he shouted, covering anything indecent with his hands before he quickly caught sight of something that looked like a bathrobe stashed away in the corner. Rushing forward, he grabbed it and extricated it from where it had been stashed sloppily away in some kind of hollow stump, pulling out several objects, among them being a cellphone which he could only assume was Ted’s, clattering to the floor in a messy heap as he pulled the robe to cover him, tying it around his waist.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that a cell phone?” Lucy asked, her eyes widening in confusion, “Whose is it?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens sighed. This might have been more difficult than he thought.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>KILL HER!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His head ached as the voice of his corrupted spirit suddenly screamed at him, trying to dig its claws further into his brain. He flinched and pushed a few of his fingers against his temple, trying to ward off the pain.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Get the money!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up!” he ordered his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor, are you okay?” Lucy asked, approaching him cautiously.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor gone crazy,” Ted said in a voice that sounded heavier and lower than what he normally spoke in, making it more clear that convincing Lucy of the truth would be difficult. Between Ted putting on a soap-opera-worthy performance as an Ape-Man and his own mind screaming at him to kill Lucy and get whatever money he needed, he was going to have a hey-day trying to keep everything under control.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor,” Lucy said gently, “Perhaps you should lay down…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Hidgens shook his head, ignoring the dull throb in his head, focusing on the mission and the mission alone, “I know this truly must sound insane to you Lucy, but there’s something I need to tell you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Oh, trying this route, are we?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He ignored the snide remark of his own mind and stumbled forward, gesturing to Ted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This man is a liar!” he declared, to which Ted’s eyes widened, “He’s not the Ape-Man who saved you when you were a little girl!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hidge…” Ted hissed, not low enough so Lucy couldn’t hear, “What are you-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“In this world, I recruited him to act as the Ape-Man in a scheme to get your money for my musical rather than starting a Kickstarter as any normal person would!” he laughed before pointing to Ted again, “This is Ted and he’s a liar!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy looked at Ted with an expression of puzzlement, “Konk...what is he saying?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk not liar!” Ted stammered, his eyes wide, “Konk is Konk! Professor should go fuck himself!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where did you learn that vulgar language, Konk?” Lucy asked, her gaze dancing between the two men with immense confusion. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“His name isn’t Konk!” Hidgens explained, growing somewhat impatient with Ted’s persistence. And though there had been a few minor hiccups in the man’s character, Hidgens was impressed with the devotion to the roll, “</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>HIM TED!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He suddenly flinched at the sound of a voice that wasn’t entirely his slipping past his lips, prompting him to slap his hand over his mouth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At the back of his mind, he could hear dark laughter coming from the part of his mind he’d hoped he’d be severed from for all eternity. Already he could feel the coils of darkness trying to take their hold, trying to make him fall back into a pattern that had once been so easy for him. In some ways, it felt as if there was immense pressure in the back of his mind, attempting to slowly hollow him out. Still, he inhaled sharply and turned back to them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Lucy,” Hidgens sighed, trying to regain control of his own mind, “But this is not the man you think he is.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Moving quickly and hastily he scrambled to pick up Ted’s phone. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If he really is an Ape-Man,” Hidgens explained, trying to convince Lucy that the world around them wasn’t what she thought it was, “How does he have one of these.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mercifully, Ted didn’t have a passcode on his phone (was that even a possibility), and almost instantly, Hidgens was bombarded with an appearance of the several different apps that the man utilized in his Philandering. He pulled up one of the less-scandalous pictures of him from one of his many dating sites and showed it to Lucy, Ted looking more and more nervous as he did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Lucy inspected the photo and looked between the phone and Ted, she grew all the more confused, something similar to hurt in her eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk…” she whispered, “Is this you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It is,” Hidgens answered before Ted could come up with any lie that would cover his ass, “I know how much this meant to you, and I’m sorry-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>KILL HER! </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>KILL TED! </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>TAKE THE MONEY FOR YOURSELF!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens doubled over as his head was flooded with noise, making the world around him seem to blur. He could hear Lucy talking about something, but for the most part, his ears were ringing and his vision darkened.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Inhaling sharply, he forced himself to his feet and looked at her, “To make matters worse, he’s not even real! Well, he is real in real life, but this isn’t the real him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor,” Lucy looked terrified, “What are you-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor drunk,” Ted remarked, still using his low voice.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens ignored the man’s protests as he continued to gesture around them, “In fact...none of what you see is real!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy raised an eyebrow, “Professor...I can call a doctor.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, I know!” Hidgens laughed bitterly, “I must seem quite mad to you right now, but truly, Lucy, this isn’t your world. You’ve been trapped in a prison of your own making!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy looked speechless while Ted looked like he was about to burst out laughing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens couldn’t bring himself to care. The pressure in his head was growing as he felt another surge of the other Hidgens rising, trying to grab control of him once more. He couldn’t waste time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know this makes no sense!” he shouted, gritting his teeth as a small burst of pain behind his eye, which he could only assume was the other Hidgens fighting for control, arose making him feel like he was barely holding onto control, “But, Lucy, the world we knew has ended. You found people to take care of you. You stayed in a bunker with myself and several others...but you were attacked.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy’s confusion seemed to be slowly melting more into fear as he went on, prompting him to talk faster.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were dragged into this dimension,” He explained frantically, “A dimension where you cannot remember the world you came from. In this dimension, you think </span>
  </em>
  <span>this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is reality. You can only remember the fabricated memories of the life you’d once had there. You don’t remember who you are, but I can help you!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a moment of silence and uncertainty as Lucy’s face filled with fear.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cool story bro,” Ted chuckled, breaking his facade of an Ape-Man “God, what are you on? Can I have some of that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy’s eyes widened as she turned to face Ted, who paled as he realized his error.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Konk?” her voice was shaky and she shook her head as if she was unwilling to accept the fact that he’d spoken normally.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ted opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a garbled mess of words before his voice broke into a bunch of stammers, “Lucy, I can explain.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, Lucy looked like she’d been slapped across the face, tears filling her eyes as she came to the realization that everything she’d been told in the past couple of what Hidgens assumed must have been weeks was a lie. Her gaze darted around the room, looking from Ted to Hidgens and from Hidgens to Ted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Henry didn’t notice he was slowly but surely shifting towards a long-barreled shotgun that was carelessly left leaning against the wall. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy, listen to me,” he murmured, the dull throb in his head fading slightly, “This isn’t the world you know, remember?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it!” Lucy exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “Just stop it! I don’t know what all this madness is about, but you’re confusing me and I don’t know what to think.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tears had filled the woman’s eyes as she turned to look at Ted, “And you...I don’t know what to think...I just know I need to be alone at the moment.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded softly to herself as a tear dropped from one of her eyes, which she hastily wiped away.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I only need to...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens flinched as he looked down and realized that the large gun was now in his hands, the barrel smoking and making his heart drop. He was unable to drop it, despite what he was trying. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked up, horror filling him, and praying with all of his might that he hadn’t just shot Lucy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To his short-lived relief, the Duchess was still alive, but the bullet hole in the wall behind her was large and she looked terrified. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She held up her hands in a terrified manner, “P-Professor...put the gun down…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He tried. He tried so hard to drop the gun, to tell her that it wasn’t him that had pulled the trigger, but his mouth wouldn’t move, and his hands wouldn’t allow him to let go of the weapon he held.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t even tell her to run as his hand found the trigger again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mercifully, he missed, and Lucy fled from the room with a terrified yelp, sprinting away as Hidgens, without his own consent turned the weapon on Ted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whoa! Whoa! Hidge!” Ted was shouting, holding his hands out in a terrified gesture as Hidgens stepped for him, “What the f-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t stop himself from pulling the trigger. In a flash of red and a terrified death-throe from Ted, Hidgens could only watch in horror as the man before him fell to his feet, dead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The darkness at the back of his head laughed, filling Henry with the urge to cry and scream.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><b><em>You thought you could escape me?</em></b><b><em><br/></em></b> <em><span>“STOP!” Hidgens screamed, finally regaining control of his vocal cords. </span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t stop himself from shaking as he finally was able to throw the gun aside.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t believe it. How could the darker version of himself have gained such a hold on him already? How had he been stupid enough to believe that he could ward it off?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>You keep forgetting Henry, I’m not just a part of you.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop…” Henry murmured, stumbling forward, avoiding looking at Ted’s blood, sprayed across the floor. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I am you.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“NO!” Hidgens shouted, his head aching as he broke into a sprint going after Lucy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens ignored the sound of his dark thoughts. He was fighting so hard to try and keep the voice at bay, Trying to stifle the will of the person who wanted to gain control of his body. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, he was reminded of the man he’d used to be. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In some ways, he knew that the claims of his darker soul were correct, especially in regards to being a part of him. He’d done unspeakable things to people and had caused so much harm. He couldn’t even begin to imagine all the pain and torment that he’d caused while his skin had been worn by a demon. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t think about that right now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That was what Webby wanted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Webby wanted him to lose himself to the trap as well.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted him lost in her maze of oblivion, with the darker side gaining control all over again. What she most definitely didn’t want him to accomplish was finding Lucy and freeing her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Which is what he would do. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He grit his teeth and stumbled forward, grateful that he’d had the ability to drop the gun. His head ached as he tried to keep the voice and thoughts of the other Henry at bay. Part of him truly felt like perhaps his last name was Jekyll instead of Hidgens as he surged forward, securing the tie of the bathrobe around his waist.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had a mission to complete, and if he wanted to make it out without hurting Lucy, he’d have to complete it quickly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He could still hear the laughter of his double, the laughter of the corrupt man he’d once been filling his mind, threatening to grab a hold of his consciousness once more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, Henry moved forward, running in search of Lucy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to find her and convince her of the truth before the other Henry came back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before the other Henry would kill her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There wasn’t a whole lot for Lex to do when she was confined to her cell for the evening. She’d been lucky enough not having to deal with some shitty cellmate with a serious sense of first-world problems, so normally, she just sat on her bed and doodled on the shitty notebook she’d somehow gotten her hands on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d lost track of how much time she’d spent in prison already. For all she knew, it could have been a couple of weeks or a couple of hours. It was all the same for her. While a lot of people were just counting down the days until they got out, she knew it would do nothing but make the fact that she’d been in prison all the worse. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was strange how a simple place could fill her with so much hopelessness.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gingerly, she traced her fingers over a bruise on her left cheek that she’d received from one of the larger prisoners, a woman named Marge who’d had no reason to hit Lex other than to tell her that she was nothing. God, why did it feel like she’d stepped into a bad police soap opera?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite thinking about how shitty life was at the moment, she thought about Ethan. Of course, he’d gotten a lesser sentence than she had, which made things slightly easier on her mind, but the truth of the matter was that he’d been shipped off to some penitentiary in Clivesdale for a sin that wasn’t his own. He’d just tagged along to help her out, convincing her that things could possibly get better. He didn’t deserve what he’d been given. And hell, seeing the look on Tony’s face when their sentence had been delivered still haunted her to this day. She didn’t want to think about how Tony was coping as of right now, as he’d not come to visit in a while. She couldn’t blame him. Not when she was partially responsible for landing her son in jail.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’d known that what they were doing wasn’t strictly speaking, legal, but it was all that they had, and if Pamela had found out that Lex wasn’t going to sell them...God, Lex didn’t even want to think about what consequences that would have brought down on Hannah.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well...there was another thing that made the guilt and pain fester greatly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She hated the fact that she’d left Hannah with her mother. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pamela was honestly the last person she wanted Hannah to be with. Pamela couldn’t stand Hannah and seemed to find fault in nearly everything she did unless she’d already been inebriated, which was often. The fact that Lex wasn’t around meant that money would be scarce, and since alcohol didn’t often come with whatever the foodbank was willing to grant Pamela on a weekly basis, the so-called patience that Pamela had would run thin very fast. Of course, Pamela had tried to make a disability claim on the broken foot she’d received months before, but given that Pamela’s idea of work was sitting around all day and doing nothing, they’d gotten nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d not wanted to leave Hannah with Pamela...but she was the only person Hannah had. Better that than a complete stranger who would be unable to understand her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, she missed her sister.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She missed just hugging her sister after a long night of work, feeling like everything would be alright with as much love and affection that her sister was willing to provide her with. She missed walking through the Witchwood with her sister, listening to her introduce Lex to all of the trees that she’d given names to, somehow able to remember all of them. She missed watching Ethan braid Hannah’s hair with a great deal of care and attention, as her hair was always too thick and too tangled for him to make a neat braid with while Hannah’s was always soft and smooth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God...she just missed them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were the only real family they had. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, fuck that bitch of a woman who’d given birth to them. Fuck the woman who’d once tried to convince her that she was actually trying in life. Fuck the woman who’d made Lex feel like she needed to be an adult by the time she could talk and walk, providing for them where her father was absent. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck her mom. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bitter tears brimmed in her eyes the longer she’d thought about it, but she fought against the urge to cry. What parent would willingly send their child to prison for a sin they’d committed?  Sure, Lex didn’t necessarily have a good idea of what a ‘mother’ was supposed to be, but she was fairly certain that whatever it was Pamela was doing wasn’t right. At the very least, she thought a mother would be loving. Loving and accepting. Not the kind of woman who’d scream at her for not immediately cleaning up a spill, or a woman she’d once felt like she’d need to hide from every time she came home. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, could her mother even remember her name?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She honestly would not have been surprised to learn that her mother didn’t even realize that she had children. Unless they could benefit her in some way, she knew that Pamela had often pushed her and Hannah to the back burner. Most of what Hannah wore was stuff that Pamela tried to throw away or stuff that had gotten too small for Lex. In some ways, Hannah was always swimming in her clothes, mainly because they couldn’t afford to eat as much as a child should eat, and overall the life that Hannah and Lex had been  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and leaned back against the brick wall of her cell, the distant sound of some yelling and screaming, indicating that </span>
  </em>
  <span>another </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight was taking place becoming ambient noise the more she thought of Hannah and Ethan. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t want to think about what they were feeling right now, but part of her knew they were sharing in the misery that she felt. Prison hadn’t exactly been on the agenda when they’d made plans to go to California and begin a new life. A life where they could be happy and be far away from Pamela. The dreams of the life they’d lead there were nice, but then again, getting as far away from the town they hated so much was what mattered more. What mattered most was getting Hannah away from their mother and giving her a better life.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A lot of good she’d done her sister.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She closed her eyes, hating the cloud of sadness and hopelessness that seemed to hang over her. Outside the thin window that she had in her cell, she could see the darkening sky growing grey as storm clouds threatened to strike them all down. She could hear the rolling of thunder in the distance, making her frown. As a child, she’d never liked the thunder. It reminded her too much of the breaking of bottles and the shouting of her mother. Now, even being on her own she didn’t like it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello, Lex.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She gasped and opened her eyes, drawing back as she caught sight of a woman standing in front of her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman looked like she belonged to a different decade, dressed in a denim jacket and bright colors that seemed to pop out as if she was captured through some neon retro filter. In some ways, she didn’t look like she belonged here, with her bright colors and overall lively, albeit mysterious, disposition. Even more concerning, however, was the fact that Lex’s cell door was still shut...and there was no other way for the woman to have gotten in there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex cautiously moved back, curling in on herself slightly, unsure of how to react.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who…” she murmured, trying to keep as much acid as she could in her voice. She knew she wasn’t the most threatening of people in her current state, but she wasn’t about to get her ass beat by a woman who looked like she’d stepped off of an old VHS tape, “Who the hell are you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My name is Miss Holloway,” the woman said calmly, ‘I know that my being in here is kind of off-putting.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s putting it nicely,” Lex murmured, scooting back, wary of the complete and total stranger standing before her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I understand,” the woman nodded, “Would it put your mind at ease to know your sister sent me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex shook her head, “I don’t believe you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman...Holloway sighed and nodded, “I didn’t expect you to. Nightmare Time does some serious shit to your brain.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex didn’t know what the hell this woman was talking about, and frankly, she didn’t care. She was far more concerned with the fact that the woman was inside her cell without unlocking the door.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was she hallucinating?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“To answer your question,” Miss Holloway sighed, “No. You’re not imagining me. And you’re right when you assume I don’t belong here...but let's take that a step further and assume that you’re not supposed to be here either.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lady…” Lex sighed, shaking her head, “What the fuck are you on? How the hell did you-?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know this all seems confusing,” The woman said calmly, “But I am here to help. Do you remember how you ended up here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex scoffed, “Lady, I’m in prison. I did something bad...someone didn’t like it, so they locked me and my boyfriend up for it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t mean here,” Miss Holloway gestured to the cell walls, “I mean...</span>
  </em>
  <span>here. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s the first thing you can actually remember in this time?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This time?” Lex asked, “What the hell are you-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your clearest memories start at the trial, don’t they?” the woman asked, “You cannot clearly remember experiences before then, can you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex was taken aback by this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She tried with all of her might to remember anything before the trial. Trying to remember thinks she </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>had happened...getting caught by that asshole cop in need of a haircut, perhaps. But she couldn’t remember it at all. But...it must have happened. In fact, she </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew it</span>
  <em>
    <span> had happened. So why wasn’t the memory coming to her?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lex,” the woman said gently, “Think about where you are...think about Hannah. When was the last time you saw Hannah and Ethan? “Really?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t know what the woman was getting at. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The last time she’d seen Ethan had been at the trial itself...right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d been holding her hand as they stood there, waiting to receive the damning sentence that would define the rest of her lives. Just the thought of it was enough to make her feel like a thousand-pound weight had been dropped on her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But Hannah…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When was the last time she’d seen Hannah?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah hadn’t been allowed to come to the trial… and Lex had been shipped off here pretty quickly…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fear twisted in Lex’s heart as she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she saw her sister. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wh....” she stammered, tears forming in her eyes as she tried to search for memories she couldn’t identify, searching for the last time she’d seen Hannah’s face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s when the images started flashing...so familiar...and like they’d come from a different world.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>She saw a large circular metallic structure, swirling with green and black energy, cold air making shivers run up and down her spine. </span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>She could see Ethan emerging from the structure, battered and bruised, and her feeling like it was the first time she’d seen him in lifetimes. </span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see hugging him and Hannah.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see a replica of her body working to unleash horror at the whim of a demon in a madman’s body.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>She could see the world ending. </span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>She could see months of laborious work under the guidance of a corrupt leader, trying her best to keep herself, Ethan, and Hannah safe.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see another reunion with people she’d thought was dead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see moments of peace...where it felt like even as the world was crashing down around her, she had a family…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A family…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Faces and names flowed into her head. Colors, time, laughter, smiles...all of the things that had been absent from her life here…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>John.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Xander.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tim. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, even that madman, Professor Hidgens.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Faces and names of people who made her feel safe and loved flowed into her head, reminding her of what had truly gotten her here in the first place. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was an attack.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone had stabbed her in the neck with something...something that filled her with heaviness. With grief and pain she’d never wanted to know. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then...she’d wound up here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t supposed to be here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She gasped and looked at Miss Holloway, who was studying her with an air of both concern and knowledge as if she’d known that this was going to happen. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where was she?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d been in the PEIP base with Ethan and Hannah...having those bad dreams…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where am I?” she stammered, her breathing growing ragged as she looked around the room, the memories of a life she’d truly called her own, “Where’s Hannah?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hannah’s okay,” Miss Holloway assured her, “Do you remember how you got here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex remembered the face of the man who used to work with Paul. The man who’d led her to the portal shortly before he’d attacked her and several others.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I...I was attacked,” she mumbled, the memories of a strange syringe jammed in the back of her neck coming back to her, “I wasn’t the only one.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Webby trapped you and several others in something that’s called Nightmare Time, Lex.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nightmare Time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah had spoken about how it was a dimension of darkness. A place where all light and life was seemingly snuffed out through an imitation of a person’s worst nightmare.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You...you said…” Lex stammered, trying to get a hold of this new information, “You said that my sister sent you...how?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sad to say she followed you here,” the woman said calmly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex’s heart picked up the pace as panic swelled in her mind. She was just about to scream and cry for Hannah before the woman held up her hands to calm her down.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now don’t worry,” she sighed, “I got her out of there, just as I am about to get you out of here, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex would have breathed a sigh of relief, but something about what the woman was saying didn’t put her mind at ease. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hannah’s safe?” she asked, looking up at the strange woman.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Yes. Had she not summoned me, the both of you would be stuck here a lot longer than anyone up there would like. We’re in the process of getting all of you out, but I need you to trust me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex didn’t know why...but she found herself leaning towards trusting this woman. It was strange because Lex knew that she could have easily been an agent of Webby...someone sent to deceive her...but some part of her soul knew that this woman was to be trusted.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She managed a small nod, “Get me home.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded in a determined manner, smiling softly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll have to follow me and stay quiet,” she walked over to the cell door, “If Webby has any planned modes of resistance, they’ll be coming after us as soon as we exit this cell.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where are we going,” Lex asked, standing from her bed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“To the yard,” Miss Holloway spoke clearly as if she already had formulated a plan in her mind, “There’s a better weak spot there, that’ll get you out the back door as soon as possible.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman stood and rested her hand on the locking mechanism for the door, “Are you ready?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was beyond ready. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to see Hannah and Ethan. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to go home. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The memories of the life she’d once had come back to her and she was never going to let them go again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No longer would she be an insect trapped in Webby’s sadistic web. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, more determined than ever to get back to her home. To her family.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, Miss Holloway snapped her fingers, and the door to her cell swung open. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly and cautiously, Miss Holloway stepped out of the cell, gesturing for Lex to follow her. Lex had just stepped out of her cell when…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>An alarm in the hallways started to go off and Lex felt her heart drop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit,” Miss Holloway cursed, grabbing Lex’s arm, “Follow me!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before Lex could understand what was happening, she was sprinting after Miss Holloway down the hallway as loud shouts of the other prisoners rose in a crescendo. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop them!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex glanced briefly over her shoulder to see several prison guards running after them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re chasing us!” she shouted at Miss Holloway, who merely grabbed lex’s hand and picked up the pace. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of the alarm seemed to rise in volume as they made several sharp turns, running through the labyrinthine hallways of the prison. Each hallway looked the exact same to Lex, making her feel as if she were running in circles, but her instincts screamed at her to follow Miss Holloway, so she kept running. Her legs were aching and her lungs were raw, but all she could do was continue to run. All of her instincts were prompting her to take another step. Another step towards her sister. Another step towards Ethan. Another step towards being free.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway’s grip on her hand didn’t cease as the yelling of the guards chasing after them and the shouts of the prisoners who’d hated her more than anything rising in volume, making it seem like Lex’s world was tumbling in and out of frame for her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t lose focus, Lex!” Miss Holloway shouted as they made another sharp turn, “We’re almost there!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They made a few more turns when suddenly they came to a large door that Lex recognized as leading to the yard. As Miss Holloway threw open the doors, they were greeted with the thick petrichor scent of rain, and the sound of rolling thunder.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rain almost immediately soaked into Lex’s skin as Miss Holloway pulled her out into the yard, the grey sky shrouding them in darkness as they remained.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway let go of her hand as she bolted for the far wall.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing?” Lex cried as she caught up to the woman, and they finally stopped.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to summon the doorway,” Miss Holloway explained rapidly but calmly as she started to move her hands around.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex jumped at the sound of a gunshot echoing throughout the yard as a bullet hole appeared in the wall beside Miss Holloway. She whirled around as Miss Holloway kept working to see at least twenty prison guards standing before them, all of them pointing their guns at her and Miss Holloway. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Step away from the wall and put your hands in the air!” One of the guards shouted, her gun trained on Lex in a way that made her blood run cold.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway didn’t turn.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re not real, Lex,” she whispered, continuing to work on getting the doorway to form, “They’re trying to keep you here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hands up, now!” the guard shouted, her gun still poised to fire at them at any time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex’s voice was shaky as she shook her head, “No.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rage flared in the guard’s face as she re-established her position with the gun, “This is your last warning. Put your hands up or we will open fire.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex could have sworn her heart stopped at the notion. If these false guards placed inside her mind to keep her from leaving this nightmare opened fire, would she die? Would she be unable to see Ethan and Hannah again? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She glanced over her shoulder at Miss Holloway, who wasn’t flinching or wavering in her attempts to open up the doorway, and somehow Lex knew that she wasn’t going to let fear or Webby keep her there any longer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m going to give you a count to three!” the guard shouted, her voice rising in volume, “One...two…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>NO.</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before Lex even knew what she’d done, the sound of the word ‘no’ seemed to echo throughout the landscape, rivaling the sound of thunder as a flash of energy suddenly emitted from her hands. In a noise that rivaled a sonic boom, the purple energy flew out from her and blew backward, hitting the illusions of the prison guards and knocking them over as if they were a stack of cards. As they fell to the ground, Lex could only watch in amazement and horror as they all crumbled, disappearing into nothingness.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What...what did she just do?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the empty space where some twenty guards had been standing moments before, poised to end their lives at any moment. Her breathing grew ragged as she started, the rolling of the thunder only emphasizing the tumult of her thoughts.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway turned around and placed a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, ” the woman whispered comfortingly, “They weren't real.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What…” Lex whispered, “What the fuck was that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway squeezed her shoulder comfortingly as she stood beside her, looking at the now-empty yard before them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Suffice it to say that you’re more powerful than you could ever know, Lex Foster.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Somehow, though Miss Holloway’s words were meant to comfort her, Lex was unable to feel comforted. Her hands were shaking as Miss Holloway turned around and went back to what she was doing. As soon as Lex looked over her shoulder to look at the woman, she saw a spread of light expand across the wall, almost blinding in the overwhelming darkness that seemed to cover the world.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway stepped back to admire her work, before holding out a hand to Lex, “You wanna go see your sister?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With one silent nod, Lex took the woman’s hand and stepped forward, almost closing her eyes as the light was so bright.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Miss Holloway stepped through the doorway, Lex glanced over her shoulder to where she’d decimated several security guards until they were nothing...but...Miss Holloway said they weren’t real. So why did she suddenly feel so afraid of herself?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That didn’t matter, she realized as she took another step towards the doorway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What mattered was getting home to Ethan and making sure she and Hannah were with their family again. That was what mattered most.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She clenched her fists by her side and she took a step forward and closed her eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And finally allowed herself to be consumed by the light.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy was sprinting through the woods, her eyes filled with frightened tears as the thick plants bit at her, tearing through the material of her stockings and making her feet ache, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She needed to get away. She needed to get as far away from the falsehood and the madness as she could. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d been a fool. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was a fool.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell was she thinking? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell had she believed the word of a complete and total stranger? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tears stung her eyes as her breath was ragged in her chest. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Any previous time she’d come to the Witchwood, she’d always found comfort in the tall trees and the lovely silence, filled only with the call of birds and the sounds made by small creatures such as squirrels, but now, all she could hear was the thunder rolling in the distance and the sounds of her own ragged breaths. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t find peace as she ran, tears streaming down her face, making the shades of grey and green that painted the witchwoods into a blur of color that she could barely distinguish from one another.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>SNAP!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She screamed out in pain and nearly collapsed onto the wet ground and damp leaves as sharp metal teeth clamped around her left calf, digging deep into her leg. She looked down and saw that blood was soaking into the material of her stocking and dripping down her leg as agony made the tears fall faster.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was trapped. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She tried to struggle, but the more she moved, the more the sharp metal of what looked like a bear trap sank deeper and deeper into her muscles, making her cry out in pain and frustration. Spots danced in her vision as hot tears dripped down her face. The pain only grew worse and worse as she screamed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her blood froze at the sound of the Professor’s voice. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She struggled, not even caring about the pain in her leg as she tried to pry open the trap that was clamped around her leg.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d shot at her. If he found her, he was sure he would kill her. She didn’t know how he’d missed her the first two times he’d shot at her, but she now had no doubt about it that the man was mad.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bitterness and anger welled in her heart as she furiously thought of what a fool she’d been. How eager to believe her own foolish fantasy had she been to believe that someone who was obviously a naked man in need of a trim was the person who’d saved her as a child. God, how much of a fool had she made herself as a child and into her adulthood on the basis that she was so insistent that her fantasy was reality.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone who judged her growing up had been right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was a foolish little girl, holding on too tight to a fantasy she’d wanted so badly to be reality. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She struggled and held back her screams as she tried with shaky hands to pry open the rusty trap, trying to give herself the best chance at survival that her chase from the madman would give her, but when the trap refused to relent she let out another, terrified, frustrated cry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a terrified gasp, she looked over her shoulder to see the bathrobe-clad Hidgens stumbling towards her, a pained look in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stay away from me!” she shrieked, “Stay away!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes softened as they landed on her leg in the trap, “Oh, Lucy…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m warning you!” she cried, looking for anything she could use to her advantage, perhaps a heavy branch. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She caught sight of a loose branch, and with a small cry of pain, she tugged it towards her, holding it out in front of her as if it were a sword, something that would ward the man off. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He held up his hands, “I’m not going to hurt you, Lucy...I don’t have a gun.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You shot at me!” she screamed, tears dripping down her face, fury in her heart, “I don’t know why I ever trusted you! I don’t know why I ever believed you!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her chest was heaving and her head ached, the agony in her leg making her shudder as the sobs left her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was a fool!” she cried, “I’m a goddamn fool! I don’t know why I was ever stupid enough to believe in the Hatchetfield Ape-Man!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled bitterly, “I don’t know why I ever considered you or your </span>
  </em>
  <span>Konk</span>
  <em>
    <span> my friends! I don’t know why I would exchange the life I had for one here! I don’t...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A heaving sob left her, exhaustion filling her bones and making her feel heavy all over.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know anything…” she sobbed miserably, “So if you’re going to do it, go ahead! I don’t give a damn what happens to me! Nobody else will! All they see is a goddamn fool! All they see is a stupid...stupid girl.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The branch she was holding out in front of her drooped and had it not been for the position that her leg was trapped in, she would have dropped to her knees. She was so tired. She suddenly felt so miserable. Misery and pain seemed to hang over her like a dark curtain.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But…” The Professor’s voice was calm and...strangely gentle as he moved closer, cautiously, “You were right, Lucy.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t!” she shouted, holding the branch up again, “Don’t come any closer.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Though he held no weapon, and she could tell from his stance that he was in pain, Lucy wasn’t going to take any chances. Not after what he’d claimed he’d tried to pull with her in getting money that was no longer hers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell, she didn’t even have the money to try and return to a respectable position back in England. The thought of it made her want to cry harder.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy…” Hidgens held out a hand and gently moved the branch away from where she was holding it in her face, and she didn’t even try to fight it. She was done, “You really don’t remember that you found him, do you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy only sobbed harder, “No...you said so yourself! It was a lie!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wiped away at her pitiful tears, but Hidgens only shook his head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy…” he whispered, his eyes pleading with her, “Lucy, please...I don’t know how long I can hold him off...please, you need to remember.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Remember what!?!?” She demanded of him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He flinched at the loud sound of her voice, making her feel guilty, but when he spoke one word, she suddenly felt the pull of a thousand memories.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chumby.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At first, it seemed like such a silly word…but the longer she thought about it, the less it sounded more like a thing and more of a name.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A name she knew.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The name of a friend.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, light and color flashed in her vision in a kaleidoscope that was overwhelming as she was reminded of a life she really belonged to. A life where the world had ended. A world where her life’s ambitions had been realized. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>A world when the one who’d saved her as a little girl had saved her from the end of the world and become her best friend. </span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>Memories washed over her as she stood there, Hidgens looking at her expectantly. </span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Time flowed into her head, memories that didn’t belong to this world...but belonged to her all the same. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Memories that she didn’t belong here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Memories that this </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>her world.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She stared at the man in front of her as memories of his aid in their fight against the…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She gasped at the memory of the scourge of what had claimed their world </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor?” she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy…” he murmured as if he were debating whether or not she had actually regained her memory, “Do you...remember?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, wincing in pain at the feeling in her leg, “Where am I?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s like I said,” Hidgens explained, “You’re in a place called Nightmare Time. The place where you’re trapped in an iteration of your worst nightmare that seems as if it’s reality.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head, “All of this is my mind?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“In a sense,” Hidgens nodded, twitching slightly in pain, “But we need to get out of here fast.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He knelt down to try and pry open the trap around her leg, “I don’t know how long I have before he comes back.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He?” Lucy asked, grunting as she tried to help him pry the metal jaw open with the branch she was holding. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As if on cue, Hidgens’s eyes darkened and he twitched painfully, before finally normalizing. He flinched and stifled a groan.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor!” Lucy cried, “Are you alright?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head, trying more frantically to open the trap, “Lucy, you need to listen to me…As soon as I get this trap open you need to hit me over the head with something.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” Lucy exclaimed, very confused at the man’s antics, “Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy,” the Professor murmured, flinching again, “If you don’t, a more corrupt version of my soul...one that lives in Nightmare Time will </span>
  </em>
  <span>kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. He’s fighting for control as we speak and I’m not sure I can hold him...you must incapacitate me and walk through a doorway of light before he gets that chance.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I…” she stammered, she never wanted to hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone</span>
  <em>
    <span> even in a life or death situation, but the look on the Professor’s face was serious, “I...I understand.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded in thanks, his breathing ragged as he continued to kneel down, groaning as he winced again. She let out a cry of pain as he suddenly let go and the metal teeth sank back into her leg.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry!” he exclaimed in genuine apology, before looking around and picking up a thick branch from the ground, “When I pull the teeth apart, jam that in between and try and keep them pried apart so you can get your leg out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, taking the branch from him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“After that,” he went on solemnly, “Do what must be done.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a small, hesitant nod, Lucy looked down at her profusely bleeding leg, and Hidgens went back to work, grunting tiredly as he tried to pull the two parts of the metal jaw cutting into her leg apart. As he pulled the two sides apart, he looked up at her with a small nod, and she hastily slammed the thick branch down into the trapping mechanism and quickly lifted her leg out. As soon as her leg was out, Hidgens let go of the sides of the trap and the teeth came back nearly snapping the branch in two. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy fell to the ground as her weak, bleeding leg was unable to support her, crying out in pain as the warm blood continued to soak her skin. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Professor, we did-” she turned around to see that Hidgens was looking at her, but with a look that immediately made a chill run up her spine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With a roar that sounded inhuman, the Professor...or the part of his soul that Lucy knew was no longer...crawled forward hastily, a look of murder in his eyes. With a small yelp of panic, Lucy tried to scramble away from him, but the pain in her leg was too great. Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed a hold of her injured leg, wrenching a horrified and pained scream from her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Thought you could escape from me, stupid girl?” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>he hissed as he pulled at her leg, making her vision swim with stars as pain shot up her leg. She bit down on her lower lip to hold back a scream of pain as she grappled for a loose branch. Something. Anything that would save her life at this moment. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>You truly are a fool,” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>The man sneered, his eyes filled with the darkness that had been there when he’d held the gun, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“Believing in such childish fantasies. How does it feel to know you’ll die a fool.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy had to stifle another scream of pain as she caught sight of a log before her. As she struggled in the Professor’s grasp, her fingers brushed against it as she desperately tried to get a hold of it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just then, a few feet away from her, there was a burst of light as a swirling vortex of bright white and yellow light beckoned her. Her escape route was calling her. So close and so far all at once. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could go home. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But Hidgens’ grip held fast, preventing her escape.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“An insignificant little worm,”</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> the man went on, his voice deep and dangerous.</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em> “And you’ll be feeding the worms with Johnny-boy momentarily.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not real,” she muttered in between her ragged breaths as she scrambled forward, her fingers catching on the bark of the log, but unable to get a solid grip on it just yet. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she tried so hard to grab it, “This is all in my head.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidgens only laughed as he tugged on her leg, making sparks fly in her vision as agony made her feel like her whole body was burning and freezing all at the same time. She stretched herself forward and finally, her hand found a grip around the branch.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Don’t you see, Lucy?” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>the man was laughing gleefully, clearly not realizing that she’d grabbed a hold of the branch, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“There is no es-”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>THWACK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before he could finish his sentence, Lucy brought the log down hard on the man’s head, knocking him out instantly. Mercifully, the grip on her leg disappeared and she was left with a very unconscious Professor.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m so sorry!” she apologized, hissing at the already-forming goose-egg on the man’s head from where she’d hit him, dropping the branch and praying that he would remain unconscious long enough for her to get them through the doorway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gritting her teeth, she sat up, inspecting the large wound on her leg, the large gashes left by the teeth of the beartrap making her want to throw up. She glanced over her shoulder at the large doorway of light, beckoning her to step through it and return home. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No matter how broken her world was, Lucy was beyond ready to return. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She forced herself to her feet, trying not to cry from the pain in her leg, grabbed a hold of the Professor’s wrists, and started to slowly and painstakingly drag him across the forest floor.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Without hesitation, she started to step through the door, and almost instantaneously, the pain from her leg began to seep away. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she walked through the doorway, she could hear the screams of the dark part of Hidgens’ soul melting away, and the pain and self-doubt that she’d been weighed down with seeping away from her in what felt like the removal of a cement-filled backpack.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Lucy could only close her eyes and allow the light to fill her, replacing the dark like turpentine against paint on a brush.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex opened her eyes and found herself standing in the middle of a large, beautiful field of orange and red flowers, making it seem like the world around her had been painted in shades of gold. Glancing down, she found that she was still holding the hand of the woman...Holloway, who’d busted her out of prison.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy shit,” she panted, out of breath from their chase throughout the prison.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Indeed,” Miss Holloway panted, “You okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex managed a nod, her heart pounding in her chest as her body was released of the heaviness and hopelessness that had kept her down. In some ways, it felt as if the pain and sorrow that had weighed her down completely had completely melted away, making her feel as if she truly were herself.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lexi!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of the familiar voice made her suddenly feel as if she might start crying. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She whirled around to see a familiar, flannel-clad figure tearing towards her, across the field, the man she’d known as Duke within her Nightmare Time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hannah!” she screamed, before running towards her sister.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She met her sister in a strong, loving embrace, practically lifting her sister off of the ground as she hugged her tightly. Tears stung her eyes as her heart sang at the familiar feeling of holding her sister in her arms.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She broke away and cupped her sister’s face, falling to her knees as the flowers swayed gently in the breeze.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah’s eyes were filled with tears as she smiled at her, “Found you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex nodded, smiling gleefully, “You found me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay?” Hannah asked, one of her hands going to the bruise on Lex’s cheek that had not yet faded completely.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes, “I’m fine, Banana. Are you okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She inspected her sister for any bruises that might have been inflicted upon her but found none to her relief.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah shook her head, “Mission going on. We need to save the others.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex nodded and looked up at Miss Holloway, who was staring into the distance, Duke walking up beside her and taking her hand.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You alright, Darlin’?” he asked, looking at her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Darling?” Lex asked, looking between the two adults, “Duke, you know her?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Duke’s like us,” Hannah explained, “Different, but trapped in Nightmare Time.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Duke nodded in confirmation and nodded in Miss Holloway’s direction, “I was killed because we tried to put up a fight against Webby and her siblings. Apparently, I was cursed and sent to the Twilight Zone.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Though the man had chuckled at his own joke, Miss Holloway did not. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Darlin’?” Duke asked the woman again, “Are you okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As if snapping free of a daze, the woman smiled, “Hmm? Oh, yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded in the direction behind them, “We’re about to have company.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As if on cue, a large circular form of light formed a few yards away from where they were standing. Lex recognized it as it resembled the same doorway of light that she and Miss Holloway had gone through to end up here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>From beside her, her sister squeezed her hand softly and comfortingly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Company,” Hannah nodded, a soft, knowing smile on her face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A few moments after the formation of the circle of light, a familiar figure of a woman emerged, dragging behind what looked like a sack of something heavy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lucy!” Hannah smiled, bounding forward as the familiar face of the kind duchess became more clear. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman turned and her eyes widened as they landed upon the small group before Hnanh bounded forward and wrapped her arms around her in a hug. Duke, Miss Holloway, and Lex followed in Hannah’s lead, walking towards Lucy who was looking around with wide eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss Stockworth!” Miss Holloway called with a bright smile, “Welcome to the daydream.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy nodded, her eyes still wide as she took in her surroundings. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was then that Lex noticed that the </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that Lucy had been dragging, was actually a bathrobe-clad Professor Hidgens.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What happened to him?” Lex asked, looking away from the unconscious figure of the Professor, mainly because it appeared the only thing the man was wearing was the aforesaid bathrobe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Um…” Lucy looked confused, “I think he said he had a problem with-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“His corrupted spirit,” Miss Holloway nodded in understanding, “I had a feeling that would be a problem. But at least he got the job done, and you’re out of here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy nodded.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where’d all that blood come from?” Duke questioned, gesturing to Lucy’s leg.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex looked down and had to hold back a gasp when she caught sight of the amount of blood that had soaked into the woman’s cream-colored skirt and stockings, the holes in the material showing where a few deep-looking fresh gashes should have been, but in its place were only a few light-purple scars.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,” Lucy sighed, inspecting her leg with some slight contempt, “I was trapped in a goddamn beartrap in the woods. Hurt like the devil too...but it feels fine now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “A lot of the people here will have a couple of scars from this that they’ll bear in the real world...but it definitely shows a lot about your character.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy looked confused for a moment, “Forgive me...but who are you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway smiled and chuckled slightly, “A friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy seemed to accept this answer and looked down at the unconscious Professor, “So...after this, we can return to normality?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “Yes...we just need to wait for the others.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They all seemed to nod at this, knowing just how difficult the truth behind what had happened sank in.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How…” Lucy began, “How long have we been trapped in there?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway sighed and looked down gravely, “Duke’s been cursed to wander Nightmare Time for about a year...All of you, however...it’s been five weeks.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Five weeks!?” Lex exclaimed, holding her sister tighter, “But what about E-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ethan’s been better,” Miss Holloway admitted, “When you and Hannah were trapped he started staying with John and Xander. He’s very eager to see the both of you again.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex nodded. She wanted nothing more than to see their little family reunited. She hoped Ethan hadn’t worried so much. Though it wasn’t in his nature to worry, she knew that he was fiercely protective of her and Hannah, and she didn’t want to think of what their trapping had done to him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We still have Bill, Tom, Paul, and Ted to retrieve,” Miss Holloway recited, “It’ll take some time, but if we’re careful...we’ll all have you back in the real world.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lex sighed and hugged Hannah closer to her, closing her eyes as she thought about the reunion she would have with the people she loved more than anything else in the world. Even now, as the hope of being reunited with them was instilled within her, she knew that she would do anything to get back to them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s get ‘er done.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway opened her eyes again and turned to where John and Xander had been sitting with bated breath, watching as she muttered words neither of them could hear or understand as she tried to help them save the people who mattered most to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander could only hold his breath as she made eye contact with them both before a soft smile crossed her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hidgens and Lucy are safe,” she smiled, nodding in the direction where Hidgens and Lucy lay still as the dead. With that, she turned to look at Ethan, a small, soft smile on her face, “And Lex is safe too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt as if another collective sigh of relief had been released around the room. The knowledge that now four out of the eight people they’d designed to rescue had made it out the back door and into a safe space was enough to strengthen the hope and determination that had filled all of them. Ethan especially was hopeful, his blue eyes filled with tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“R-Really?” his voice was quiet as he stared at Miss Holloway as if he didn’t dare get his hopes up, “You got her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway smiled softly at him and nodded, “Yes. They’re both safe…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ethan let out a noise that could have been a shuddery sob as a small, disbelieving smile crossed his face. Suddenly, Xander could see more life in the boy’s eyes than he’d seen in the weeks before...as if the mere thought of the two girls he’d sworn to protect being saved was enough to revive him completely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re safe for now,” Miss Holloway nodded, “But the mission needs to go on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, she turned to Alice, who looked slightly shaky and pale, as if she was bracing herself for whatever it was to come. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alice,” Emma murmured from her place on the gurney, picking up on the girl’s trepidation, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trembling girl shook her head and swallowed hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she murmured, looking up at them with determination in her eyes, “I want my Dad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded in understanding, and Xander could only admire the tenacity that the girl was displaying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As John listed off the standard protocol for the next round of the mission, Xander murmured a silent prayer for the people they’d already saved, and the people they were still fighting for. The people they weren’t going to give up on, no matter how tightly the Black and White were trying to hold onto them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>save the people they loved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and whispered to himself, John standing at the helm as Miss Holloway started to extend her energy to Alice Woodward, who’d squeezed her eyes shut in bracing herself for what was to come. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three down, four to go.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh (insert all character's names) We're in for it.</p>
<p>First and foremost...Holloduke. That's all that matters. </p>
<p>Hannah, Lex, Duke, and Lucy are out of there!! They're not completely out of the woods yet because they're not in the real world yet, but they're getting there.</p>
<p>Miss Holloway, you're doing amazing, sweetie (and what was up with Lex?).</p>
<p>Also...Hidgens was totally having a Henry Jekyll moment right there.</p>
<p>RIP Konk.</p>
<p>But they got them all out!</p>
<p>Now, onto Bill!! Hopefully, nothing goes wrong there and everyone's happy and safe and nothing goes wrong with them ever again (we wish).</p>
<p>Please leave comments and or kudos if so desired! They really mean the world as hearing your guys' feedback is amazing! I'm sorry this one took a while though. It's just...✨life✨</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading!! I know these chapters are still getting to be pretty long, but once this arc is over with there should be some changes of pace. I really appreciate you guys for taking the time to read this!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. As Heavy a Stone and a Bone-Chilling Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Mission™ Part Two</p>
<p>Well...we're halfway there...hopefully nothing goes wrong.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this one comes from the song 'The Stone' by the Dave Matthews Band.</p>
<p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Guns, mallets, emotional manipulation, panic attacks, gaslighting mentions, mentions of past abuse, car-related injuries, sensory overload</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Rain poured down as the purple and orange dusk descended into grey skies, the rainfall from earlier returning as Bill trudged down the main street of the amusement park, purple and yellow lights illuminating his way as he dragged the large mallet behind him. People had lined the streets as he dragged it down, his footsteps only marked by the splashes made into the deep puddles, soaking his pant legs as he made his way down there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t know why he was doing this, but he knew that it had to be done. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d show her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then she would never leave him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He could see her waiting for him. Her dyed blond hair reflecting purple and yellow light. In her hands, he could see purple light glinting off of the barrel of what looked like the BB-gun that his wife had gotten her for her birthday a few years before. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he stood across from her, staring her down, there was a moment of silence between the two, as if they were both taking in the appearance of one another, both of them consumed by bitterness and anger at their ruined day. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The street was mostly empty and eerie, and the tension between father and daughter, both armed and ready to do whatever was necessary to get what they wanted, seemed to cut through the air like an untempered sword. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He held up the Blinky doll in the hand that wasn’t holding the purple wooden mallet, dangling it in the air so that she may see it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I won you this,” he whispered, part of his mind not even recognizing the monotony and bitterness in his tone. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>This wasn’t right.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She studied the doll with a look of contempt, her eyes flashing with purple light as she tilted her head and didn’t lower the weapon she was holding aloft. She sneered and shook her head, “I don’t want it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled bitterly and nodded, “I thought you’d say that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He could hear the whispers of the unseen crowd, hearing their pleas with him to get on with it. To raise his hammer and make sure that his daughter stayed with him. That his daughter was his. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>No.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>Alice was Alice.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>She was his daughter...but she wasn’t </span>
    <em>
      <span>his </span>
    </em>
    <span>to hold onto for the remainder of his life.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>As difficult as it was, it was the duty of a father to let go when the time came.</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice spoke first, tightening her grip on the rifle as she regarded him, malice in her eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want the keys to the car,” she  spoke clearly, her demand echoing through the street as she cocked the gun in her arms, “And I want them now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Barker’s voice echoed in his ears as anger filled his mind. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>’Ungrateful little brat.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He tightened his grip on the handle of the mallet. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know,” he said, his voice cool and biting as he played with the mallet in his hand, “You ruined every vacation we ever had.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t waver in her aim as he went on.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“With your whining and complaining,” he mused, bitterness rising in his throat like bile, “Every Christmas morning. Every Thanksgiving dinner. Every Fourth of July. All of them sacrificed on the altar of your spoiled little ass.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t flinch as the eye of the purple doll in his hand exploded into a mass of purple fluff and fur. He dropped the doll to the wet ground as he looked at Alice, the smoke from her gun illuminated in the purple and yellow flashing light.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice didn’t waver as her gun smoked, more fury rising in her eyes, “Next one goes through your eye. The keys. Now, old man!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill shook his head, “Seems like we’ve reached an impasse… ‘cuz I’m not leaving until we’ve seen some fucking fireworks.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice laughed, holding up her gun, “I’ve got some fireworks for ya! Right here!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright,” He tightened his grip on the mallet, lifting it ever so slightly so it could swing over the ground, “Time for some tough love.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wood exploded just to Bill’s left as Alice took a shot at him, quickly reloading her gun as he rushed forward, suddenly lifting the mallet with seemingly inhuman strength. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, more lights flickered on, casting more vibrant purple and yellow light and illuminating the presence of the crowd that was seemingly invisible before. Bill could hear their quiet whispers chanting for blood, screaming for entertainment, but silent and eerie as if it were passing through the street like a heartbeat; consistent and there...but nearly impossible to perceive. As if on cue, a large silhouette appeared against the damp pavement of Main street. Its figure outlined in bright yellow light, like the shadow of a monster upon the moon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A shrill cry echoed throughout the park.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Welcome to the show!!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill and Alice didn’t stop in their pursuits as the voice erupted into loud heinous laughter. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The crowd giggled and cheered in exuberance as they watched the two go at one another, gunshots and curses echoing as they watched the two fight. Alice was shooting at Bill. Bill was swinging at Alice. The anger in their purple eyes was bright as they fought.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill was nearly out of breath as he swung the heavy hammer at his daughter, fury filling him whole.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>NO! </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>This wasn’t right! </span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>He’d never hurt his little girl!</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He swung the mallet again and knocked the rifle free from her hands. Alice cursed and rolled away before he could hit her with the heavy wooden object he was holding. She dove underneath a park bench, grappling for her weapon as he lumbered after her, holding the mallet threateningly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not going to hurt you, Alice!” he called, “I’m just gonna break your goddamn legs! I’ll take care of you! I’ll take care of you good!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Leave me alone!” Alice cried, scrambling for her gun. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He brought the mallet down on the bench, the wood splintering and cracking, sending shards everywhere. Alice rolled out of the way, looking for the rifle.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just need you to need me!” he roared, bringing the mallet down again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get a hobby, dude!” Alice shouted, before seizing the rifle as Bill reared back to take another swing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before he could bring the mallet down once more, however, Alice rammed the butt of the rifle into his stomach, effectively making him lurch forward and drop the mallet behind him. He gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of him, the sudden pain in his gut making him fall forward, but he turned and saw through the purple lens of his eye that Alice was running for a mostly-decrepit building, with the crackling neon sign that read ‘Blinky’s Funhouse’. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head and grinned, regaining his footing. Though he was limping slightly, still recovering from the jab to his stomach, he gripped the mallet with newfound determination. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d fix this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d make his daughter stay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He could hear the voices of the people who were watching him, urging him to finish it. To step through the double doors of the funhouse and finish it. He could see the Thousand Eyes watching him, wanting him to finish everything that he’d started.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And he knew what had to be done. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hobbling ungracefully over to the funhouse, his hand gripped the mallet...ready to finish it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice could see and hear so much as color passed her by. Shades of purple and yellow melting into black and grey, overwhelming her as she knew exactly what was coming. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew what she had to do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She needed to save her dad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t necessarily expect it to be easy, with everything Miss Holloway was saying about this Nightmare dimension, but she’d done everything she could to pay attention. Hell, she’d taken extensive notes over everything that Miss Holloway had taught them in their briefings before this mission and gone over the notes several times.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>From what Miss Holloway was able to see from her father, she knew that they were supposedly frequenting an old, rinky-dink amusement park outside of town, only it was a bright area of summer fun for any Hatchetfield citizen who dare go near it. According to the witch, they’d been pitted against one another in a fight for petty reasons, the true meaning behind their discord laying far beneath the skin. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice knew she would be walking into a fight.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A violent one, from the description of Miss Holloway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To put it simply, she was terrified. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to save her father so badly, but the fact remained that she might not come out of this alive...she didn’t know.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was more the fear of the unknown that was eating away at her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, her desire to see her father well again far outweighed the fear that was eating away at her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could hear her father’s voice sounding muffled and distant as the colors flew around her. She felt as if she were Alice from the story her father had named her for. Falling through a mysterious rabbit hole with little inclination as to where she would end up. As the world flew past her, it felt as if her heart was pounding in her chest and the world was growing louder and louder by the second. She didn’t know what she could make of it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I'm coming, Dad,” she whispered, “Please just hold on.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She tried to think of happier times as she waited for the world around her to take shape. She knew her parent’s marriage wasn’t a happy one...hell, anyone could look at the relationship of Bill and Lydia Woodward and tell immediately that it was a train bound for destruction. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice had tried to stay out of their conflicts and stay in denial that their marriage was coming to an end. As she got older, she recognized patterns in her parent’s relationships that made her wish she could push it all back. Wishing she could prevent it for as long as she needed. Sometimes she’d wake up to the sound of the liquor cabinet opening in the middle of the night, whether it was her father or mother who needed it. Sometimes she’d wake up and peek out of her bedroom door to see her father trudging defeatedly to the couch, carrying one of his pillows and a large throw blanket, a look of disdain and fear in her voice. Sometimes between the walls that she slept in, she could hear her father crying and loudly praying for God to save his marriage, and on the other side of the far wall of her room, she could hear her mother groaning and praying for God to shut him up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When all of that was taken into consideration...it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise when her mother packed up and left, and her Dad told her at breakfast that she’d filed for divorce.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then the actual court date had come, and it was final. She was a third party in a broken home. Then, almost immediately, her mother had served Bill with papers for custody, and the next thing Alice knew, she was being dragged away from Hatchetfield and everything she’d ever known. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For the longest time, she’d been angry at both of her parents. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She hated her father for not making her mother happy enough to stay. She hated her mother for finding happiness in the arms of her old college sweetheart (a greasy man with a dyed-blonde toupee, named Alan). She hated both of them for stretching her between two towns and becoming distant from the only people she felt completely accepted her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It hadn’t always been like that, though. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There had been times before the divorce where all she’d ever wanted was to hang out with her father. She missed the exuberance that she felt as a little child when she’d hear the door to their garage open and her father would step through the door, setting down his briefcase and she’d happily cry out, “Daddy! You’re home!”. She missed the way he’d pick her up and swing her around with a smile on his face whenever he would walk her home from school. Her then-tiny hands being squeezed between his large, soft hands. She missed feeling happy every time Bill would drive her to school or pick her up so they could do something fun on Friday Nights while her mom had ‘Bible study’ (the codename that Alice and Bill had used to describe her mother going to Linda Monroe’s snobby boating club), just spending the time with just the two of them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, as she got older, they both grew busier and busier. She felt like he no longer had time for her, and frankly, as she developed her own life she no longer had time for him. The weekends that she would spend in Hatchetfield mostly consisted of her avoiding talking about the divorce with him, going to Deb’s house to catch up on what she missed, and mostly just blocking out what he would say about her relationship with Deb that came off as insensitive, condescending, and rude. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>After the apocalypse had happened, she soon realized what the problem was. He still saw her as a little girl and she still saw him as the pathetic old man who wanted to hold onto his marriage with everything he had. Of course, they were similar in temperament, which meant they would have times where they didn’t get along. Sometimes she’d be less than kind, sometimes he would be judgemental, but they still cared about one another. Since they’d been crammed in that bunker together, they’d learned to be more accepting and loving where they hadn’t been before the apocalypse had happened. In that PEIP base, they’d had time to actually talk about stuff and process it...and in some ways, they’d found that childlike feeling again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before it was all snatched away from them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When he’d gone blind as a result of Ted’s attacks on the seven people, Alice had wanted to be angry. Why did her father have his sight taken from him while people like her Uncle Paul were still fine? Why did it have to be the man who raised her and not someone else? Still, she’d been grateful that he was alive and she knew there were ways they could work around it. He’d never complained, no matter how hard she knew things were for him, keeping a smile on his face, especially after her Uncle Paul had told them about the baby he was expecting with Emma. Alice had often dreamed of watching her father read her completed plays, smiling at her and telling her he was proud of her. All of those dreams had been snatched away when his sight had been taken from him. Of course, she knew he would eventually learn how to read braille, but she didn’t know of any means on-base where she could print anything (or if that was even possible), so for the most part it was she who would read her work to him. It still was nice for him to listen, but she knew it wouldn’t be the same as watching his expressions as he read. It wouldn’t be the same as what she dreamed...but then again, life was rarely what people dreamed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She thought for a long time that him being blind would be the last they saw the effects of the attacks in February, but it hadn’t. He’d just started to adapt well to his routine and even was able to read a little bit of braille. She really admired the way he was determined to adapt to that lifestyle and for a time, there had been peace in their little family of two (three, if you counted Deb, who’d started to become closer and closer to her father). </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But then, he’d collapsed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t know what to think when he’d fallen. All she could feel was a numb kind of panic. It took forever for her to come to terms with the fact that her father was living through his worst nightmare at the hands of beings who wanted to see the whole world dead. It was almost as if she’d stepped into the plot of a horror-musical, only...instead of throat-slitting barbers and large flytrap-like monsters who could swallow people whole, she was confronted with the issue of letting go of her father. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was funny, one of her issues with him before all of this had happened was that he was unwilling to let go of her...now she was unwilling to let go of him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> Her mother used to always bitterly say that Alice was always a ‘daddy’s girl’, especially after the divorce to get Alice to do stuff she normally didn’t want to do, but now as Alice had spent more time with her, she was glad that she loved her father as much as she did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She loved her father too much to let him die in a place like this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That was why she was here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As the world started to take shape around her, she inhaled and exhaled sharply, bracing herself for whatever was to come. She knew she couldn’t afford to freeze up when the circumstances were as dire as this. She had to save him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, the light faded, and she found herself in a dark room as if she’d done the opposite of what Dorothy or Alice had done in the regard that the world that she’d stepped into seemed to be void of color outside of purple, yellow, black, and grey. It was almost as if she’d stepped into a digital painting of Deb’s in the regard that those four colors were all that she could see. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even weirder, however, was the fact that she seemed to be in a maze of sorts...a maze of mirrors. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the fuck?” she breathed, whirling around to look at her reflection, and she stopped. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, she thought she wasn’t even looking at herself as she took in her appearance. Her face was the same, of course, only, she had a mild tan that seemed to suit the humid air that hung in the ramshackle building she stood in. She was wearing small black shorts that had purple and pink embroidery around the pockets, as well as a bright Fuschia t-shirt that read the words ‘I survived the Eye-Drop, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’ that she’d knotted at her side. Her makeup was smudged, and her hair- which she realized with a start, had been dyed blonde- was frizzy, indicating that she’d probably got caught in the rain. None of these, however, were the most frightening detail, as she suddenly took note of a long-barrelled rifle in her hands. It looked like a shotgun, but her mind was so overwhelmed by the new scenery she was surrounded with she was unable to decipher the actual make, or what it was that she could do with it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was then, that she heard a bone-chillingly familiar voice...maliciously echoing among the mirrors.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alice…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her voice was caught in a choke at her throat, making her lungs suddenly feel like they were tightened painfully inside her chest. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Al-Pal....” It echoed, making her want to shrink into a hole, “Where are you hiding?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no mistaking whose voice it was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad…” she whispered, so quietly that he couldn’t hear her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could hear the eerie sound of his footsteps against the decrepit wooden floor, and the sound of something heavy being dragged behind him. She looked at the rifle in her arms and realized with a shock through her body that they weren’t just fighting...it was likely they were trying to kill one another. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Allie,” His voice, so unlike the gentle and kind father she’d known echoed making her stumble backward, “Where’d you go?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His voice went up in pitch as it used to when she was a little girl and would play hide and seek in the backyard. How cruel was it that he was using old nicknames and old tricks to harm her? She mentally cursed the spider bitch and the cyclops bastard that had forced him to do this. The people that had made him a puppet in his own worst nightmare.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She stumbled back suddenly, unsure of what she should do. When Miss Holloway had told her about what she would have to do to ensure that they were safe, she didn’t think that this would be the case. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her breathing was growing ragged and her hands began to shake as she desperately tried to keep herself quiet. As she stepped backward, however, she hadn’t noticed that her grip on her gun had faltered, dropping it to the ground with a loud clatter. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She stifled a terrified yelp and prayed with whatever she had that he hadn’t heard that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She fell back with a terrified cry as the mirror right in front of her was smashed in, shards of glass flying past her face and scraping her cheeks. She screamed as the silhouette of her father, wielding a large, purple wooden mallet that hung beside him lumbered forward. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There you are!” he cheered gleefully. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She screamed as he brought the mallet down again, smashing it hastily into a mirror making more glass explode around her. She didn’t reach for the rifle and instead rolled around, the material of her shirt getting cut on the glass and her legs being scraped as she did. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad!” she screamed, tears filling her eyes, “Dad, please!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She scrambled away as he brought the mallet down, smashing three more mirrors at a time. She cried out as she curled in on herself as she tried to move away from the heavy swings of the mallet, until she felt her back press against the cool glass of a mirror, a chill shocking her into stillness as she looked up at her father. The kindness and gentleness of his eyes had been replaced by violet. Violet malice. Gone was the dark brown that had once made her feel like everything would be alright, especially in times when her anxiety was at its worst. In the place of that gentleness and love, there was only purple rage.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad!” she screamed, pressing up against the mirror as he approached, the mallet swinging slowly as he reared to bring it back up again, “Dad! This isn’t you!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, you’re gonna stop running from me,” He huffed, clearly missing her words, “I’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>make</span>
  <em>
    <span> you stop running.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad, please!!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face, “Please!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hold still!” he shouted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice couldn’t close her eyes as he lifted the mallet again, feeling her heart nearly pop out of her chest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How had this all spiraled out of control so quickly? How had this all lost control? She could only stare up at her father as he prepared to bring the mallet down on her, almost looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>eager </span>
  <em>
    <span>to do it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She gave her mental apologies to all of the people back in the waking world who she was letting down. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew she failed them as Bill lifted the mallet over her, his eyes filled with no regard for her fear.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She braced herself for whatever agony that was to come staring straight up at her father and cursing whatever had made him like this. She wished she could have spent more time telling her father how much she loved him. She wished she’d known how much he loved her before the world had ended. She braced herself for the pain...when it didn’t come. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her father had frozen, his gaze trained not on her...but on one of the few remaining mirrors. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly, his gaze softened as his focus went to his own eyes, and the malevolent lilac shade that covered them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned from the mirror as his mallet lowered slowly, deliberately to the ground, his eyes going to her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was then that she realized just how much she was shaking. Each ragged breath felt as if it took an eternity to draw in, filling her with a raw kind of fear as they stared at one another. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly, the purple melted away from his eyes, as voices she couldn’t recognize echoed throughout the empty space, seemingly emanating from the mirrors themselves, as if ghosts were calling back to them, making her heart pound more and more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you waiting for, sir?” one of the voices spoke, sounding enthusiastic and taunting, “Only two bucks for a whack.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still, her father didn’t move.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I gave you the child price, sir,” another, almost too-friendly voice echoed back at them, “Take care of her, Daddy.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice whimpered and curled in tighter on herself as another voice chimed out, sounding like a cartoon character.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“C’mon Papa Sniggle!” it cheered, “Whack that Snuggle-bug!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A chorus of voices chimed in, chanting, sounding as if they were hungry to see blood. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“WHACK HER! WHACK HER! WHACK HER!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fucking whack her, dude!” A teenage voice chimed in, sounding almost feral.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>However, instead of heeding the demands of the unseen choir, the mallet fell from her father’s hand, clattering to the ground with a dull thunk. His eyes were gentle as he fell to his knees in front of her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No…” he breathed, his voice now containing its usual gentleness, “She’s...she’s having a panic attack.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was she?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She took one look down at the way her knuckles were white and shaky, the raggedness of breath complimenting the twist within her chest, feeling as if there was a knife twisting between her ribs while a rope tightened around her windpipe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, yeah...that made sense. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s alright, Alice,” her father….the man she</span>
  </em>
  <span> really</span>
  <em>
    <span> knew him to be ...knelt down before her, reaching a hand out to her, “Look at me, sweetheart. Look at me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice hadn’t even realized she was avoiding her eyes as she looked up at the tentative, gentle smile of her father. The man who raised her to be the woman she was today. The man who made many mistakes, just as she did, but had loved her unconditionally through it all. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gone was the vibrant purple rage...and in its place was the gentle brown that belonged to the man who’d held her hand through it all. The man who used to love putting “magic” Hello Kitty bandaids on her scraped knees. The man who was just as much an enthusiastic theatre-goer as she, who would always sit in the front row and cheer as she took her bow at all of her school plays, though her ambition was to be a playwright. The man who’d hugged her and told her he was proud of her when she came out to him, even though she feared his reaction.   </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her father.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was unable to keep the harsh sob from leaving her as she stared up into his kind eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad!” she burst forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, something she’d wanted to do since he’d first been taken from her, burying her face in his neck. The mere scent of him was enough for her to start crying.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay Allie-girl,” he whispered, holding her closer, his hand cradling her head as she sobbed, “It’s going to be okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad…” she sobbed, “I missed you so much.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At those words, she felt her father freeze, as if suddenly he’d turned to stone. She pulled back with a gasp, “Dad?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, he looked as if he were staring into space as if he couldn’t quite understand a word she was saying.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad?” she whispered as his eyes widened.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned to look down at her, his eyes were wide and his gaze soft.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Al-Alice?” he whispered, tears filling his brown eyes.     </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad?” she breathed, daring to wonder if his memory had been restored, “Are you-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where are we?” he breathed, answering her question as he looked around with wide eyes, “How did we get here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She let out a hoarse sob as she buried her face in her father’s shoulder, holding him tighter as she cried. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You remember!” she cried, “You remember…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alice,” he breathed, pulling back and cupping her face, “What happened? I remember b-being in the apartment...and hearing Xander there...but suddenly...I was in the car with you headed here…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes softened as more tears filled his eyes, a hoarse cry leaving him as he looked at her with so much love in his eyes, “I...I can </span>
  </em>
  <span>see </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice laughed tearfully and nodded, “Y-You were attacked...b-by Ted, do you remember that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, flinching at the memory, “And I lost my sight, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice nodded again, wiping away at her tears as they were quickly replaced, “You collapsed...you and the others he attacked….you wound up here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded as if he didn’t understand what she was saying, but knew that whatever it meant it wasn’t good, “And...where is </span>
  </em>
  <span>here...exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a Nightmare Dimension,” Alice explained, trying to get ahold of her breathing as she held onto her father for dear life, “You and six other people were trapped in a manifestation of your worst nightmare.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She swallowed hard as horror washed over his face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then...how…” he murmured, “How did you get here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled breathlessly, “I was the only one who could reach you. We met a woman who could send the consciousness of people into the Nightmares to get you guys back...and...well…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alice!” he gasped, “You can’t be here! If this is my worst-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I couldn’t leave you here to die!” Alice cut him off, “I don’t have many people left! Deb and I have been on our own since you collapsed!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill looked like he didn’t believe that, “What about your-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uncle Paul was taken too,” she interrupted, “And Emma had a lot more on her mind with the baby, she didn’t need to worry about us too...I just...couldn’t leave you here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and looked down, “But it doesn’t matter, you remember...and soon you’ll be free. That’s all that matters.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was staring at her for a moment and she looked down, the tears still slipping down her face as she fiddled with her fingers. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alice,” he whispered, “Look at me…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Reluctantly, she looked up at him to find that his eyes were filled with awe. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re so brave,” he pulled her to him in a warm hug that made Alice feel like crying all over again, “My brave girl.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>“It was all I could do,” she whispered, “I couldn’t just let you die.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>He sighed and hugged her closer, “I wish you hadn’t had to make that choice.”</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment they just sat there, holding one another and allowing Alice to finally realize that for the first time in five weeks, she was hugging her father, before suddenly the salesman’s voice was back, sending shivers up her spine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You weak, weak man,” it tutted, “That’s not how it’s done, sir.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice curled closer to her father, whose eyes were filled with fear. Her eyes darted around the maze of mirrors, looking for any space where the doorway would open up. Miss Holloway had said that the doorway would open up soon enough, so where was it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is an amusement park, sir,” the unseen man’s voice continued, “But not for </span>
  </em>
  <span>your </span>
  <em>
    <span>amusement.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The terror that rose on her father’s face was enough to make her own breathing grow ragged again. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At that moment, she was reminded of the fact that her father was a favorite. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A favorite of one of those fucking monsters.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is Watcher World, Bill!” the excited man’s voice called out again, “Everything that happens here is for </span>
  </em>
  <span>his </span>
  <em>
    <span>amusement! And Blinky can’t stand this contrived, sappy-dappy bullshit!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You thought that you would ever be able to escape?” the salesman’s voice went on, “I don’t think you understand the hold that he has on you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck you!” her father shouted out, suddenly, rising shakily to his feet and taking Alice’s hand in his, but she didn’t rise with him, “I’m taking my daughter and I’m leaving! I don’t give a damn what your goddamn master wants from me!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a chorus of both laughter and horrified gasps as the unseen voices went into an uproar.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You made Blinky cry!” one of the voices shouted. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Blinky wants blood!” the voice of an old woman cried out before gleefully adding, “And guts!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice’s eyes went to the rifle only a foot or two away from her as the salesman’s voice returned.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And he </span>
  </em>
  <span>will </span>
  <em>
    <span>have them, sir,” it crooned, almost as if he were poising to sing a swan song, “He’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>take </span>
  <em>
    <span>them if he needs to. He’s always watching. But...I guess sometimes that’s not enough.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice’s hand settled on the rifle as the man’s voice echoed the final words. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Goodbye, sir.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, the room was enveloped in silence. A terrifying, bone-chilling silence made Alice almost certain she could hear her own heartbeat echoing throughout the room. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, she just looked at her father, both of them terrified of what was going to happen, when all of the sudden, in a large cacophonous crash, all of the mirrors shattered. Her father threw himself over her to shield her from the shower of glass as they both cried out in shock. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Bill pulled back, however, the loud sound of maniacal laughter erupted throughout the room, making them both turn as the large, purple, fuzzy figure of the aforementioned cyclopean horror emerged, his large purple arms outstretched as he ran for them. As her father curled in on himself, Alice raised the rifle and took aim, the fact that Blinky was running in a straight line making it easy for her to pinpoint the center of his eye. Running solely on adrenaline, she pulled the trigger.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her bullet found its mark in the middle of the monster’s eye.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck...you…” she panted, “Blinky.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Blinky stopped in his tracks, a loud screech erupting from him as his hands fumbled at the eye, which started to crack as though it was one of the mirrors that surrounded him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, a bright light erupted throughout the room and Alice turned to see the doorway of light that Miss Holloway had described had formed beneath the exit sign of the funhouse. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As her father watched the monster writhe, Alice grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet, “There! Run!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She pulled him along, running as the pool of purple, slimy blood started to expand, the creature still screaming and writhing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were just about to reach the doorway, before Bill dragged them to a stop, “Wait!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What!?” she cried, “Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He paused for a moment, just taking her appearance in, “I just...I want to look at you. I want to remember what you look like...in case I’m still blind when I wake up.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled tearfully and fearfully as she glanced over to where Blinky had stopped screeching, the puddle of purple slimy blood increasing hastily, “Even with this hair?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, “Even with the hair.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked over at the puddle again, which was rising in volume and starting to expand to what looked like a small pond. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She squeezed his hand, “We’ve got to go...now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of her face before nodding. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just as the blood had risen to a tidal wave, chasing after them, threatening to catch them in its wake, she pulled her father through the doorway. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was consumed by light, but her hand never left her fathers as she led him. It was so bright she closed her eyes,  unable to see anything or hear anything until finally she was met by a warmth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly, she opened her eyes and found that she and her father were standing in the middle of a large field of flowers, looking warm and soft in comparison to the cold darkness she’d been met with when she’d opened her eyes in the maze of mirrors. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We made it!” she panted, turning to her dad, “We made-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The look on his face was sad, as she realized he was looking in her direction, but not </span>
  </em>
  <span>at </span>
  <em>
    <span>her. Her heart sank in her chest when she realized that his sight had been taken from him, “Oh…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sensing the sadness in her voice, she could see him manage a small smile for her, shaking his head softly, “It’s okay, Alice...we made it out of there, safe and sound. That’s what matters.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He held open his arms for her, and she ran forward, wrapping her arms around him more fully, feeling the relief and adrenaline fill her, the realization of what she’d just accomplished making her have a sense of something she’d not had in the longest time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway opened her eyes again and looked over at the remaining travelers, making John straightened and waited for a report. Admittedly, out of the different travelers, Alice was one of the many people he was more worried about. The knowledge of her father being a favorite of one of the more obscure Lords in Black made her situation somewhat precarious. He hated the fact that Alice had been their only option to save Bill. She was a strong and smart girl, but she was still a child, essentially. Just as Lex and Hannah were...but the truth of the matter was that Alice was the only human that Bill would have been around in his dream while all the rest would undoubtedly take the form of agents of Blinky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Given their experiences with the zealots of Blinky in the past, especially when they’d been attacked all those months ago, the fact that Alice and Bill were roaming in a world surrounded by them. He could remember so clearly how the Barker had easily been able to get into his head. He could remember how weak and pathetic he felt at the mercy of the man. He’d felt so helpless and as if all of his insecurities about his role as a leader painted out on a canvas before him, only to find that he’d been manipulated all along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed as he watched Miss Holloway for a moment, waiting for what seemed like an agonizingly long time before she sighed and turned around, a soft smile that gave him hope on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alice made it,” she smiled, “She has Bill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, Xander released the sigh of relief that he’d been holding in for what felt like an eternity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No interference from Blinky?” he asked, worrying for the girl and her father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed and nodded gravely, “A little, but they managed to hold him off long enough to make it through.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded and breathed a sigh of relief again. That meant that they now had three more people to retrieve and two travelers to send in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over to where Becky sat on her gurney, her eyes filled with determination as she played with her fingertips in her lap, looking over at Tom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Becky,” he called over to her, “Are you ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The redhead seemed to swallow hard for a moment, before looking over at John and nodding, “I’m ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded and started to relay the informational protocol that they developed again when he heard Emma shout. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Becky!” she called, over the sound of Miss Holloway’s energy reverberating throughout the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky looked at where the woman was sitting on her own gurney across from where Emma was sitting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shorter woman nodded, at her, a look of respect and determination in her dark eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bring him home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment where the two women just looked at one another as if they both had a mutual understanding of what was about to happen. Though no words were exchanged, everyone could see that the message that Emma was conveying didn’t lay simply with bringing Tom back. In some ways, it was a plea with Becky to do everything she could to save one of the few members of the family Emma had left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded as Becky settled back against the gurney, the protocol continuing as Miss Holloway stood still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew how much Becky had been through. Hell, even if you didn’t know the details of her past, you could tell just from looking at the woman that she’d been through a lot. You could see behind her green eyes that there was a strength in her joy and the love that she gave the world around her. There was something that few were privy to see, and she’d been generous with it all the same. He could always admire the strength and sweetness of the woman’s heart. In some ways, she was a reminder to him that there could be good in such a dark and broken world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that Emma’s words reflected Becky’s primary directive; bring Tom back, but it also made it more and more clear that the bond that Becky had with everyone around them. With Emma, it was more clear, seeing as how their personalities diverged completely, to the fact where it was clear that the redhead wasn’t her</span>
  <em>
    <span> favorite </span>
  </em>
  <span>person in the world. Part of that, John was sure, had to do with some sense of loyalty to her deceased sister, and another part of it had to do with a lack of understanding of how Becky operated in general...but now, they had a bond. Similar to the way that Becky, who’d had next to nobody when she’d first been recruited to PEIP, now had a family that loved her. A family that wanted to see her succeed in this mission, but also return safely back to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the final protocol was read off, John turned to Becky and saluted her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Godspeed, Becky Barnes,” he murmured, “Godspeed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Miss Holloway’s energy stretched out as it had with the other travelers before, and embraced Becky, making the woman fall back gracefully into a sinking sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And John felt himself hope that everything would be alright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky was a good woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was anyone who could convince Tom that his existence wasn’t supposed to be consumed by evil, then it would be her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky gasped as shades of red and turquoise gave way to the world that surrounded her. It looked as if mixed paint were taking forms and shapes all around her as familiar voices surrounded her. She could hear her own voice, intermingling with Tom’s and Tim’s. In its chaos, she could hear a distant melody, like one of the songs he used to play on his guitar back in those more simple, warmer, happier days of high school. Things had seemed so simple then. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What she wouldn’t give to remember how easy those days had felt….just once. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew hardship was supposed to make you stronger, and she felt like a stronger person now, but she could have done without the pain. She could have done without the years of shrouding herself in darkness.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But...that didn’t matter now. They’d found their ways back to one another, and she’d found herself realizing more things about herself that she liked. She realized how strong of a person she could be, and how wonderful it felt to know what she needed to do without sacrificing her morality.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew that she could use this to bring Tom home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was strange, she’d been dreaming of the day that she could get Tom back in the previous weeks with both a feeling of hope and dread. She knew she should be scared of the world she was entering, as it was a twisted manifestation of the man she loved’s worst nightmare, but after hearing of so many different successes among the others, she was filled with a newfound sense of determination and a strange sense of calmness in the wake of it all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway hadn’t been lying in her briefings when she said that going into a person’s Nightmare Time would be overwhelming. The colors and sounds seemed to dance around her in some strange ballet that was constantly crescendoing. Though she wasn’t necessarily moving, as the colors around her shifted and changed, she felt as if she were being dragged through a chameleon-like landscape.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, the colors and lines around her solidified into a space around her, and the first thing she found was that she was in her house. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not the home she’d made at PEIP, but the house she lived in when she lived in Hatchetfield. The house she’d shared with Stanley. For a moment, her breath had been taken away, worrying that in Tom’s nightmare that Stanley was still alive and she was in danger, but as she looked around, she noticed that the house looked brighter, there was no hang of smoke in the air, and beer bottles didn’t litter every single available space on the counter. Better yet, whatever pictures of her and Stanley that they had (there weren’t many) were absent from the walls, allowing her to take a sigh of relief as she considered where she was.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked down and found that she was wearing the old turquoise scrubs that she wore when she worked at St. Damiens. The children always loved seeing her turquoise scrubs, or the light pink ones with the turquoise flowers on them. On the counter in front of her, she found her ID Tag for the hospital, a smiling, younger face of her grinning back up at her while ‘Becky Barnes, R.N.’ was clearly printed in blocky letters, hanging off of a retractable lanyard printed with pink flowers, a gift from a former patient. Had she not been mistaken, she would have been convinced that this was her house just before she’d been recruited by PEIP, when she’d cleaned it up to sell it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The clatter of something that sounded like the front blinds made her whirl around and her breath was caught in her chest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Standing before her was Tom, looking just as she had always remembered, just more exhausted, as there were dark circles under his eyes. He wore a flannel that looked somewhat dirty, and his curly hair was somewhat disheveled, as if he was a new nurse spending their first time on the night shift, or had pulled an all-nighter when studying. He looked as if he were in the middle of a conversation, pacing around the kitchen with fear in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom…” she breathed, barely above a whisper. The mere shock of seeing him was enough to make her forget her overall goal.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s not acting like herself,” he was saying, the sound of his voice making her heart leap in her chest, “I just spent all day looking at women so she could run one over!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite the absurdity of the claims, all she could do for that moment was stare at him. It had been too long since she’d seen him standing and walking around, worrying in his gruff way. In some ways, while she knew they were still in the middle of his worst nightmare, she could only stare in awe at him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom…” she breathed again, unable to completely process the fact that he was standing right before her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t do it, but I might have to!” he went on, his eyes wide as his breathing grew more ragged, “She wants a body. Sooner or later, I’m gonna run somebody over! That’s why you have to stay away from me, Becky. Stay far away.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was then that Becky’s mind snapped into gear. A small part of her mind berated herself for being so caught up in the awe of seeing him, that she’d lost sight of her mission, which was to bring him back home, but she now knew that he was still trapped so deep into this illusion. She knew what it was that she needed to continue and finish her mission.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She needed to convince him of the truth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“As of now, I’ve had to drive Jane everywhere,” Tom raved, his eyes wide as he continued to look towards her front windows, peering through the mostly-shut blinds, “But I’m afraid that soon she’ll be able to drive herself.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was then, that Becky laid eyes on the bright red 1986 Foxbody mustang in her driveway. Its headlights casting beams through her blinds, almost dulled by the ever-present mist. The night was dark, but it sat there in her driveway almost as if warning her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She swallowed hard as she remembered that the worst version of Jane’s spirit remained in the car. To make matters worse, she wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Becky’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>body for her own.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom was panting as he paced around her kitchen, looking filled with fear. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She knew that if she were to hastily drop the truth that the world around them was a conjuring of his own mind, it would likely only distress him more and push them farther and farther away from remembering the truth. The truth that the real danger was in the outside world and that Jane’s corrupt spirit was just there to keep him trapped within his own mind. He didn’t know the truth about the world, but she couldn’t just drop it on him like it was an anvil and he was Wile-E-Coyote.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He continued to vent, his words talking about how she needed to stay away from him and she could only feel saddened. She was saddened that the image of his wife had manipulated him to doubt himself in the ways that he very clearly was. She was sad that he’d been forced to believe that this was his reality. And worst of all, she was sad that he was so convinced that this was real that he was willing to sacrifice any ounce of his own self-respect, safety, and happiness for the sake of appeasing the spirit that was playing with him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she stared at him, she was reminded of all the nights she’d spent alone over the course of the previous couple of weeks while they tried to formulate a plan. Waking up and remembering that he wasn’t there was always a painful experience but she’d done her best to keep it all together for the sake of his son. She’d done what she could to make sure that she was in the right place when it came to coming up with the perfect way to save them. Tim deserved to have his father back. The world deserved to have Tom Houston back in it. No matter how difficult it was for her to keep herself under control when it came to introducing him to the truth </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, his eyes met hers and he chuckled bitterly, “I know, Beck...I know I must seem insane to you-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head, planning to ease gently into the truth of the situation, “No...it’s not.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes widened, “W-Wait...you believe me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, “Miss Holloway said Jane would be a car here...but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss...who?” Tom asked, “Becky, I’m telling you right now that you need to stay away from me or Jane might kill you!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know, Tom,” she nodded, trying to ease into the conversation as best as she could, keeping her tone gentle and understanding and not condescending, “Do you know how Jane’s soul ended up in the car, to begin with?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s like I told you!” Tom sighed, running his hands through his messy curls, “Her soul got transferred into the ‘stang when our car was hit by some dark magic!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dark magic!” she nodded, she could work with reminding him that way, “Did she ever say </span>
  </em>
  <span>whose </span>
  <em>
    <span>dark magic it was?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know,” Tom sighed, “It was just the words of some batshit crazy literature professor on some strange tape she was playing the night of the crash...but that’s not important!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He got closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye with a look of immense concern and fear, “What matters is that you’re safe! That’s all I care about, Beck. If she knew…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He trailed off, a frightened look in his eyes. He bit down on his lip and simply inhaled and exhaled, “Goodbye, Becky...please, for your own safety...stay away from me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly he removed his hands from her shoulders and gave her one final look of guilt before pacing towards the front door.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom, wait!” she called, running after him and trying to keep him from leaving.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Seriously, Becky!” he whispered, his voice shakily as his eyes darted back over to the car in his driveway\, “If she sees me and you, I’d hate to think of what she could do...please, let me leave…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He pushed past her again, still set in his ways to get to the door. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No...she couldn’t let him leave that easily. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t let this mission fail that simply.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her mind raced as she tried to think quickly of any fast way she could start to recall those memories back to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was it the Lords in Black!?” She blurted, desperately hoping she could at the very least poke at the memories she knew for sure that he had.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>Just as he was about to turn the handle to her front door, he froze. He looked over his shoulder, his voice shaky and his face pale, “Wh-What?”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>“You know what I’m talking about,” she murmured, trying to keep a handle on her voice, “You know you do…”</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“N-No…” he shook his head, working at the door again, “I don’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, you do!” Becky insisted, running to the door and pressing herself against it in a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving, but keeping her voice low and serious, “Apatha? Blinky?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes widened as she continued to wrack her brain for all of the other childish Telle-Tubby-sounding names, “Tinky...and Wiggly...you know about them, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked confused for a moment, which had to mean that she was making a dent somewhere. That had to mean she had to have hit a chord of familiarity. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“H-How…” he started.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom,” she cut him off, looking him in the eyes, ready to deliver the blow, “You and I both know of the Lords in Black because we know this isn’t real.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes widened, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to suggest that she was crazy, but she continued to talk, trying to get the point across.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Think about it!” she went on, “You know those names, and you know you haven’t just heard them from those tapes…You know them because the real world. Our world...was overtaken by them...you know this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Becky,” he began, “What the hell are you…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were attacked,” she went on, “You were a Captain in the ranks of PEIP and the head of the Operations department. You and several other people were attacked by a man named Ted! Do you remember that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom said nothing, his eyes searching her in confusion. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and shook her head, “You’ve been trapped here for so long, but Tim and I’ve been waiting for you to come back! Emma too!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma and Tim! Maybe she could connect with him on that front.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tim doesn’t want to meet his new cousin without you!” she went on, “He’s waiting for you! Don’t you want to meet your nephew or niece with him?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the hell are you talking about, Beck?” Tom asked, “Emma’s not pregnant-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She is!” she nodded, “You remember? They told us at a briefing and you cried...and we were all so happy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She felt tears come to her eyes as she continued to talk, trying to bring back any memories of what had been theirs. Memories of the life where she’d felt happier than she’d ever felt in her marriage, despite the apocalypse.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You and I both work for a military group known as PEIP,” she murmured, tears filling her eyes “We work under the jurisdiction of General John McNamara and his husband, Xander Lee. We reunited a few months back because Emma was having seizures and there were strange happenings around Hatchetfield. We realized that Paul, Ethan Green, and John were trapped in a place called the Black and White and the Foster sisters helped pull them out! Not long after, the world ended, and the Lords in Black destroyed a cave, a-and we thought that John, Xander, Emma...and Tim...were killed.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But...Tim’s fine,” Tom murmured, looking very confused.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s right, he is!” she nodded, speaking quickly now, “But we didn’t know that they were alive. We found out that one of your superior officers had sabotaged them! But...But we got them out. We got them back...and then you were taken. You...and Paul, and Lex, Hannah, Lucy, Bill, Ted...all of you were taken.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A tear rolled down her cheek.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just want you to come back to us, Tom,” she sighed tearfully, looking up into his eyes, “I just want you to come back to </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come back to me and Tim….come home.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sniffled, the weight in her chest that had been building up over the course of the previous couple of weeks starting to release. More tears rolled down her cheeks as she bit down on her lower lip. She hadn’t realized the toll that his loss had taken on her. She’d done her best to maintain control over herself, allowing others to cry when they needed, typically people like Ethan and Emma, who had so much more going on in their lives, but she’d forgotten the use of letting her own fears and pain out. She forgot how easy it was to let in build within her until the pressure made her want to explode. She supposed that the fact he was so close yet so far away made it easier for things like that to come out and break. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please…” she whispered, looking back up at him, “Come home.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a moment of silence where he just looked at her, a strange look in his eyes, and she allowed herself to hope for a moment that perhaps she’d broken through until he sighed and started to put his hand on the door again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>“Goodbye, Becky.” he murmured sadly, gently pushing her out of the way, “I’m sorry.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>Her heart sank for a moment, then all of a sudden, an unfamiliar impulse washed over her. The impulse that she felt when she was a mere girl of fifteen who’d wanted to kiss the sweet, burly boy that sat in front of her during Government and English. The impulse that had emerged in her chest whenever she walked into Emma’s hospital room all of those months ago and found that he was there. </span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, fuck it,</span>
  <em>
    <span> she thought.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before she could think of anything to say, she cupped his face in her hands, almost crying harder at the feeling of his familiar, rough beard, and lifted herself up onto the balls of her feet to meet his lips.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, he froze, as if he didn’t understand where that had come from, but he didn’t pull back, his eyes widening before falling shut, slowly melting into it. After a moment, her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, a motion that he quickly reciprocated. There was a moment, where she could have sworn she heard him gasp, so she pulled away, looking at him intently and noticing that his eyes had softened and he stared at her in bewilderment.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Becky…?” he breathed, his voice filled with confusion.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom…” she murmured, praying that perhaps that had been the motion to snap him out of it, “Do you…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah…” he breathed  his eyes wide as he looked around and then back at her in bewilderment, “How the fuck…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like I said,” she breathed, “You were attacked…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” he nodded as he pulled her into his arms into a warm hug, “I remember.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he hugged her close, she exhaled shakily and allowed herself to release some of the stress and pain that had been compounding itself for the previous weeks. In such a cold and dark and desolate place such as the confines of his own nightmare, she allowed herself to feel at peace, to feel at home as she always did when she was around him. He broke away briefly to look down at her, tears forming in his eyes before he gasped.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tim…” he murmured hastily, his eyes wide, “Where’s Tim?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s safe,” she assured him, cupping his face gently as she looked into his eyes, “He’s in the real world waiting for this mission to work.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And the others?” he asked, “Emma?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emma and the baby are fine,” Becky nodded, “Emma’s going to have to retrieve Paul, but they figured out a way where they can do it without having to hurt their child.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul was taken too, then?” he sighed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded solemnly, “Everyone who Ted attacked, including himself, ended up being dragged to places like this. So far we only have you, Paul, and Ted left to get out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded and looked up, “So...it works? They got out okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, “So far...they’ve gotten them all out, and now it’s your turn.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and looked out the window, a look of fear in his eyes before nodding determinedly, “Then lets get the fuck out of here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled and wiped away a few stray tears that had risen in her eyes. God, her heart had missed that so much. She had missed his gruff nature, hiding the sweetness that went deeper than anyone would have assumed, given his burly exterior mimicking that of a stereotypical lumberjack. God, she’d just missed him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled lightly again and he cupped her face gently, wiping away a few stray tears, “What?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing,” she hummed softly, leaning into his touch, “I missed you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled softly and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, “I missed you too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, they just sat there, their foreheads leaned against one another until Becky realized that they were standing in front of her front window.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom…” she murmured, breaking away, her heart suddenly pounding, “The windows…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom’s eyes widened as he turned to the open window, the blinds not drawn so there was a perfect angle of sight from her front drive, where the car remained.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So...they’d forgotten about Jane.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit…” he cursed, quickly grabbing her arm and pulling her back from the window, retreating further into the house.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you think she saw us?” Becky whispered, looking back towards the windows.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe…” Tom whispered, his voice filled with that same fear that he had </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly the light shining through the windows from the car’s headlights began to move against the walls of the house, the growl of the engine could be heard from inside the house.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom’s eyes widened as he turned to her, “We need to-” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of metal and glass breaking as the ear-piercing noise of metal scraping against brick cut him off as the cacophony rose like a tidal wave.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky wasn’t even given time to process the fact that the Mustang had gone through her front wall before Tom was grabbing her hand and bolting for the back door. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To her surprise, the car wasn’t completely damaged. Minus what looked like a few dents in the hood as well as a few cracks in the windshield, it appeared relatively fine. Dust and soot from the damaged walls fell upon it and the windshield wipers went, swiping across the dust as if some invisible passenger within it had pressed the button to make it so. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom grabbed her hand and started to pull her towards the back door, throwing it open and letting the chill night air blow in. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Run!” he shouted, pulling her outside. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky didn’t even turn around as she heard more rubble collapsing in on itself as the car jerked forward, causing damage to the house as the car- </span>
  </em>
  <span>she- </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried to catch them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Becky ran out into the woods, she hoped that perhaps the car had been trapped inside the house, but instead was met with the even more shocking and nauseating sounds of crashing, making her imagine the car getting through the thin walls and furniture as if they were nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No mistake about it, this would be the second time in her life that Becky Barnes would be running from that house for her life. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Miss Holloway went rigid, not twenty minutes after Becky had been sent into Nightmare Time. Somehow, Xander felt that it wasn’t so she could tell them that Becky had already succeeded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The energy surrounding the woman seemed to shift and screech, making most people cover their ears. Flashes of black and red emanated from the energy surrounding Becky and Tom, making sounds of surprise and alarm erupt from all corners of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” Xander turned to Phillipa and Kamaria, who were monitoring Tom and Becky’s vitals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Both of their heart rates are elevated,” Kamaria reported, her eyes wide, “But we cannot discern why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something’s wrong.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone turned to Miss Holloway, her voice echoing throughout the room as if she’d just delivered a death sentence. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to them, and with an immense shock that rippled throughout the room, they found that both of her eyes were ink-black. Not only that, but inky black tears were rolling down their cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Holloway,” John called, keeping his voice calm for the sake of the mission, “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman nodded, but the movement was stiff and painful as if she were fighting against gravity to get her head to move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Xander asked, moving away from his station to approach the woman, watching as the kaleidoscope of color that surrounded her seemed to grow darker and writhe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Miss Holloway shook her head, wincing as she did, “But something’s wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed and paced around, looking over Becky and Tom who looked as if they were both simply trapped in a night of peaceful sleep, almost as if they were blissfully unaware of the difficulty going on around them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment of brutal silence, all eyes on Miss Holloway as she kept the spell under control, she grit her teeth and cracked open a black-painted eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re in danger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“C’mon!” Tom shouted, pulling Becky through the woods, the both of them sprinting for their lives as they were caught in the headlights.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky’s breath was ragged in her chest as she followed them, her legs aching as she tried to keep up with Tom. As they had aged, they’d lost most of their stamina, and running through the Witchwoods had become much more difficult than all the playful jogs through the woods they’d had as kids. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His hand was still tight around hers, begging her through physical contact to move faster, pushing her persistently to keep moving.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Behind them, she could hear the roar of the engine belonging to Jane chasing after them, the car menacingly accelerating through the trees. How she drove without hitting any of the large trees in the way was beyond Becky, but it was terrifying. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The light of the moon was almost crimson as they ran underneath the dim light, the light from her headlights flickering in and out as they ran behind trees. Still, they kept running. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky’s eyes were searching the dim light of the forest for the sake of locating whatever door Miss Holloway would send to them, trying desperately to find their escape route. They couldn’t keep running from Jane, and she was fairly certain that the possessed car wouldn’t stop until they were dead, which would have meant that their mission was a failure. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep going!” she shouted, Tom’s hand still in hers, “If you see a doorway of light, run for it!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He gently tightened his grip on her hand, the sound of more branches snapping as Jane gained on them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, the rushing of the wind rose in volume and a blinding light shined before them, and with a small breath of relief, Becky saw the door that Miss Holloway had conjured for them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There it is!” she shouted, using her other hand to point to where the light was shining from between two trees, “We’re almost there!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They kept running, the sound of the autumn leaves crunching underneath their feet as they paced. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Almost there,” she could hear Tom murmur as if he were trying to convince himself of the fact as he ran.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were so close to the doorway, and Becky found herself filled with exhilaration. She just needed to keep running. Just a little longer and she would have succeeded. Just a little while longer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could hear the roar of the Mustang’s engine as it lurched after them, making an image of a furious Jane from high school appear in Becky’s mind. She hadn’t yet directly interacted with the demon car yet, but judging from all that Miss Holloway had told them about it, she intended to keep it that way. The last thing she wanted to do was have her mind overtaken by the corrupted ghost of Tom’s wife. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked over her shoulder for a brief second and felt her heart stop in her chest briefly as she realized that the car was much closer than she’d thought. And judging from the incline in the tree-filled terrain, she found herself and Tom slowing down, which meant that it was more and more likely that Jane would catch them and kill them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“TOM!!!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The garbled screeching of the car behind them made Becky cringe as she recognized the distorted, furious voice of Jane echoing back at her, only prompting her to want to move her legs faster. She had to get away from the car. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, as a large tree came into view right in front of them, an idea came to her mind. She prayed that it would work, but if she wanted to try and avoid death by a corrupt version of her partner’s deceased wife, she needed to act quickly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Without warning Tom, she jumped forward and shoved them both off to the side as they met a small decline in the terrain, knocking them both to the ground and out of the way of the furious Mustang. As they tumbled into the dry and scratchy autumn leaves, Becky found herself on top of Tom’s chest and she looked up just in time to see the car drive past them and careen straight into the tree.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jane!” Tom shouted, his eyes widening.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They could hear the car shrieking viscerally, making it sound as if she were in pain. It hurt Becky’s heart to listen to it, but she had to remember that it wasn’t real. She had to keep going.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, hey,” she cupped his face as they got to their feet, his eyes still on the distressed car. She couldn’t tell if the guilt and fear in his eyes were from the fact that it was Jane’s voice screaming out, or if it was the sight of the damaged car bringing memories that had never existed, “It’s not Jane. That’s not the Jane you knew and loved...okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He said nothing, his eyes still filled with pain before managing a little nod, taking her hand in his own. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She inhaled and exhaled sharply as she looked back at the car, hearing a distorted voice crying out for Tom, telling him to come back and free her, but he squeezed her hand and looked away from the wrecked car. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and offered her a small smile, “Let’s go home.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They turned to the glowing doorway of light, a few yards away from where they stood. As they approached the doorway, she turned to him, “You first.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He raised an eyebrow, “What? Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I need to see you leave,” she whispered, “I need to make sure you make it out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Becky…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She held up a hand and sighed, “I just...I need to </span>
  </em>
  <span>know </span>
  <em>
    <span>that you made it out, okay? I’ll feel better knowing that you made it out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked down. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to leave Nightmare Time until she was certain that he was free. She didn’t want to leave and not know whether or not he really made it out.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We can go together,” she conceded, “But I want you to go through first, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was silent for a moment before his eyes traced over her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay…” he whispered, “But I’ll be holding on to you, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, “I’ll be right behind you...I just want to make sure you make it out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He squeezed her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead with a small nod, making the trapped and mostly-wrecked car screech in indignance. For a moment, an expression of guilt flashed across Tom’s face, but he shook it away to offer her another smile.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They walked closer and closer to the doorway, the both of them swallowing hard as they stood in wait. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled at him, “You ready to go home?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, smiling softly and lovingly at her, “I’ll see you on the other side, Beck.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still holding her hand, he started to walk backward, smiling at her as he started to go through the doorway, slowly being consumed by it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Once he’d finally disappeared from her sight, his hand the only thing in the Nightmare as it was still holding hers and extending through the doorway of light, slightly pulling her forward, before-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her hand was ripped from Tom’s as trees around her suddenly collapsed and before she knew it, the air was ripped from her lungs and agony enveloped her whole, and she was being tossed through the air as if she were a rag doll. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She hit the ground a few moments after she realized that the car had hit her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Jane was in her head. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As Tom emerged into the daylight and the warmth, it felt as if all of the heaviness, exhaustion, and pain had been washed away from him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He opened his eyes and found himself in a large, beautiful field of delicate flowers, the sky a shade of grey-blue dotted with bright vibrant orange and pink clouds. Everything looked soft and warm in comparison to the cold and rough edges of the world he’d known for however long he’d been in the trap of his own making. It was almost as if he were breathing fresh air for the first time in what felt like an eternity. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We made it!” he breathed, smiling to himself as he took in the sights around him, turning to see Becky smiling at him so he could feel the grace of kissing her again, “Becky, we made- Becky?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky wasn’t standing behind him, the phantom feeling of her grip on his hand lingering like a ghost.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Becky?!” he called out, whirling around, his heart pounding in his chest as he didn’t see her, “Becky!!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn’t there. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was supposed to follow him through.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But she wasn’t there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What had happened.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Becky!!!” he shouted, his voice rising in volume as the panic rose. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why had she let go!?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His heart pounded in his chest as he ran forward, trying to go through the doorway trying to find her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t lose her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d risked her life to save him from himself. To see him safely returned to their family and to the people he cared about so that he might help give them a fighting chance. She went through his own personal hell to try to retrieve him because he’d been lucky enough to have someone as incredible as her to fall in love with an idiot like him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The thought of losing her to a nightmare that had been built for him terrified him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he tried to run through the doorway again, he was met with the force of softness, gently pushing him back into the world that Becky had told him would keep them safe...the daydream that Paul and Emma created...as if he’d run into a mattress. A mattress that was effectively blocking his way back to Becky.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No!” he shouted, running at the doorway again, and being pushed back with a bigger force, falling back into the soft flowers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This couldn’t be happening.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell did he agree to go first?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He should have made them both go through together. He should have held on tighter to her hand. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As far as he knew, she was still in his Nightmare with Jane. The version of Jane that was hellbent on getting a new body.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, if Becky didn’t make it...Jane would kill her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tears filled his eyes as the hopelessness that had kept him afraid of Jane during the Nightmare welled up in his chest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He fell to his knees as tears fell from his eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky had made everything seem like a home. Even in times where the world was broken, or his family was shattered, she made everything feel light and happy as if everything she did was healing the darkness in the world. A life without her in it...was too terrifying for him to even consider. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was staring into the light doorway, unsure of what else to do, that he didn’t realize the sound of soft footsteps coming up behind him, stepping gracefully through the flowers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His heart nearly stopped at the sound of a too-familiar voice...but it was gentle and sweet. Not harsh and manipulative as it had been in the dream.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not all is lost, Tom.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He whirled around with a gasp.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jane.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky’s mind was so loud.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>It sounded as though she were listening to a large chorus of screams and pain.</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>She could see flashes of memories that weren’t her own, memories that made her feel as if her heart had been turned to lead, sinking her down with the weight of hopelessness that she’d not felt since she been married. </span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Intermingled with the sound of her own thoughts were the shrieks and screams of what she could only know to be Jane’s reverberated through her skull. As she stumbled, the throbbing in her leg and chest making it difficult for her to move, she could hear the screams and cries of Jane as she tried to wrestle with her to gain control of her body, making her movements jerky and unpredictable. Not her own. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU LITTLE BITCH!!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The screech reverberated painfully throughout her skull as Becky lurched to the side, clutching at her head. Judging from the agony she felt in her abdomen and her legs, she probably had a few broken bones, but the urge to get away from the mental cacophony inside her head was more than enough to convince her to keep moving. She needed to get away from the sound of screams and cries that made her feel like her ears were bleeding. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She cried out in pain, just trying to hear the sound of her own voice as images flashed in her brain. A mustang battered and broken on the side of the road. Jane, her body broken and bleeding in the seat next to Tom, the mutterings of a madman on a broken cassette tape, forever trapped within the old player. She saw half-empty bottles of various types of alcohol. She saw mascara stains and stressful all-nighters that the woman trying to invade her body had pulled before she’d gotten her practice. She saw fights with Tom and guilty expressions. She saw Tim’s tearful expression staring up at her as he asked her if she and her husband were going to get a divorce after a bad screaming match- wait...no, this wasn’t her. This was Jane.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get...out…” she grunted, “Of my head…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“IT’S MINE NOW!!!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of Jane’s gleeful screech made Becky tumble to the floor, clutching her head as tears welled up in her eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see stares at postcards with messily-written messages from Emma, tear stains blotting out the ink as Jane wished for her sister to come home. She saw longing stares at a large bright pink and sparkly binder with leopard print on the binding. She saw a neat checklist that had tear stains all over it after a particularly bad grade on a test. She saw torn-out pieces of notebook paper as the lists she’d...no...</span>
  </em>
  <span>Jane </span>
  <em>
    <span>had made seemed to be failing. She saw moments of watching Emma get screamed at by her parents for every little thing she did and fearing that if she stood up for her, she’d get yelled at too. She saw Emma shouting at her to go away, her own makeup smeared as she slammed her bedroom door shut. She saw nights in her new office, crying over a journal of her own when she didn’t want to go home to Tom and give him the impression that she was weak.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God...Becky had never realized how much pain Jane...beautiful, smart, straight-A Jane...really carried with her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You…” she breathed, “You’re hurting.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>More images of pain and self-doubt flashed through her mind as Jane’s screeching within her mind rose to a roar, making her head spin and spots dance in her already-blurred vision. Becky grunted in pain and her hands found what felt like a tree stump. She braced herself against it as she tried to breathe in and out, trying to focus, trying to gain a hold onto her own thoughts,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU THINK YOU KNOW PAIN, BECKY BARNES?!?!”</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> The thing that wasn’t Jane screeched inside her skull, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU KNOW NO MEANING OF THE WORD!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, Becky’s mind was flashing with images of what Jane had been through as a car, the soul of the woman trapped within the auto body parts screaming for help just days after her death. The woman being dragged by a tow truck to Tony Green’s auto body shop, crying for her husband and son and begging them to know that she was alive until she had to wait a year and a half for acknowledgment. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky reeled to the side and leaned up against the stump, pressing the back of her head against the wood to try and alleviate the pressure, but to no avail.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes…” she whispered, “Yes I do…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shakily, she got to her feet and cracked an eye open, searching for the doorway and found that it was still open. She still had a chance to make it through. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU COULD NEVER KNOW THE WAYS I HAVE SUFFERED!!!” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Jane screamed as the images of more painful memories flew through Becky’s mind. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky shook her head, shakily and painstakingly crawling across the dry leaves to try to make it to the doorway. She had to make it out. She had to return to the living. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The same could be said for me…” she whispered, tears filling her eyes as the soreness in her bones and her body protested her moving, but she didn’t care. She now had a family to return to, “You don’t know what I’ve survived.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“YES, BUT WERE YOU A CAR?!?” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Jane demanded, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE TREATED AS AN OBJECT! WITHOUT A SOUL! WITHOUT ACKNOWLEDGEMENT!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE TREATED AS IF YOU LACK FEELINGS! AS IF YOU’RE NOTHING MORE THAN A PIECE OF JUNK!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky felt tears come to her eyes as her bruised ribs screamed in agony as she dragged herself across the ground. Between the pain in her body and the noise in her head, she wanted to just stay still and let herself drown in it, but something inside her was kicking and screaming for life. Something that had woken up inside of her when she’d been breaking free of the hold that Stanley had on her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “Yes...I do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, the memories of the pain and the suffering stopped, and the shrieks of Jane’s pain subsided momentarily, before crashing over her once more in a tidal wave.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I lived with a bad...bad man…” she whispered, reaching a hand out as she tried to pull herself closer to the doorway. Just a little closer, “I married a bastard…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of Jane’s shrieks rose in volume as Becky tried to focus her memories on her marriage to Stanley, no matter how painful they were.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>“At first, it was good…” she whispered, groaning in pain as the memory of that fateful party at the lake came to mind, trying to project it into her mind through all of the bad memories of Jane’s that were circulating through her mind, “But I soon realized how bad it was...but it was too late.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>There was a memory for every single one-sided fight that she and Stanley had. There was a memory for every bruise and scar that his hatred had left on her. </span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She tried to focus on those memories as she pulled herself closer and closer to the doorway. Though it was less than a yard away from the door and yet it seemed so far away. Tears dripped from her eyes as she tried so hard to show Jane all of the pain and brokenness that she’d felt. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I had to save myself…” she whispered, the memories of that horrible night coming back into mind, the glint of the silver knife in his hand as he ran through the woods...these woods, followed through her mind, as if it were a monster coming after her. She remembered so clearly the way that his blood had felt against her face as she’d stabbed him in a desperate attempt to save her own life. She remembered how it had felt to scrub her hands raw as if no effort on her part could ever make her hands clean. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I did what I had to do,” she murmured, more tears coming to her eyes as she tried to think through the pain, exhaustion trying to weigh her down, “But you wouldn’t imagine the brokenness and pain that I felt…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tears dripped from her eyes as she tried to pull herself closer to the doorway. She was almost there. She was so close...just a little more. Just a little while longer and she’d be safe...and the corrupt Jane wouldn’t be able to follow her there. She just needed to keep holding on…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re all a little broken,” Becky whispered, “In different ways...and that’s okay…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She kept trying to focus on the memories of her own pain, as that silenced Jane, for the most part, the shrieking dying down to a dull roar, like the sound of an old air conditioner just coming on, and for a moment she felt as if she was in the clear. She drew in a shaky breath as she started to crawl faster towards the doorway of light, thinking that perhaps she might silence Jane’s corrupted soul, maybe this would give her the chance she needed to escape. Maybe this would be the way she escaped. Her breathing was ragged and she could tell there was blood running down her forehead, indicating that maybe the pain in her head hadn’t just come from Jane’s presence there. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, instead of thinking of the pain, Becky found her mind falling on her family. Not her birth family, of course...the people who’d cut her off when she’d married Stanley and lived in Clivesdale nowadays. She was thinking of her real family. The family she’d found with PEIP. The family she found with Tom and Tim. All of the happy moments where she realized that being Becky Barnes was the best thing that she could possibly be. The truth that she was a positive person in the lives of so many, bringing comfort in times when she needed it and getting comfort and love in return. No longer was her life a constant state of giving, where people oftentimes took more than she had offered. Now she had people who gave and accepted whatever it was that she offered. She had people who truly loved her, and the more she thought about that, the more the pain and the noise seemed to dull.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just as her mind went completely silent, Becky was less than a foot away from starting to crawl into the door when suddenly-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU THINK YOU CAN STOW ME AWAY!?!? YOU THINK YOU CAN STEAL MY HUSBAND?!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky cried out in pain and fell to the ground as the agony returned to her head full-force, the memories of her own life sinking away as they were replaced with Jane’s pain, anger, and sadness.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“P-please!” Becky gasped out, clutching at her brain. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“I MIGHT HAVE TOM ANYMORE,” </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>the false Jane screamed, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>“BUT IF I CAN’T HAVE HIM, YOU SURE AS HELL WON’T!”</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>
      <br/>
    </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“No.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A strong, clear, familiar voice called out, suddenly reducing the false Jane’s screams in noise. The voice sounded so familiar, like a woman Becky would have once known, but at the sounds of the word, Becky’s mind was silenced, almost as if someone had simply turned off the storm brewing inside her mind. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky cracked open a weary eye and found that she was laying at the base of where the doorway of light was still beckoning her home, but her bones were so sore and her mind felt as if it had just been put through a blender, she didn’t want to move. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, a small, delicate hand extended itself through the large wave of light and was held out to her, beckoning her to take it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wearily, Becky lifted a shaky hand towards it, groaning as her bruised and broken body complained. Though Jane’s voice and pain wasn’t there, the pain her wrath and automobile form had taken left its mark. She could now more clearly feel the blood dripping down her forehead, and was pretty sure she had several bleeding scrapes on her legs and abdomen. Not only that, she was fairly certain her legs were badly bruised and a few of her ribs had cracked. Still, she stretched herself upward, trying to grab a hold of the hand that was extended towards her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, her hand made contact with the soft, delicate hand, and she was pulled, with a small gasp into the light. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As she was bathed in light, she found herself covered with a warm feeling that made her feel as if she were being wrapped in the softest blanket in existence. All of the pain and soreness that had wracked her body mere seconds before melted away. She didn’t lose her grip on the hand as she was pulled through the doorway, and she could feel all of her wounds healing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of a large flowery field, the pain and fear forgotten as she felt warmth unlike anything she’d felt before enveloping her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, thank God!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d barely registered the sound of Tom’s voice before he was rushing forward and wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her neck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tom,” she breathed, closing her eyes and holding him close, melting into his touch as she allowed herself to smile.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“God, I was so scared,” he whispered, his voice shaky. He pulled back to look at her, “What happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before Becky could answer, another voice spoke for her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m afraid she had an experience with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky broke away from Tom to see a familiar woman standing a yard or two away from them, looking at them with a soft genuine smile. She wore a white sweater, with neat blue jeans that looked like they’d never wrinkled. Her tanned skin was flawless, and her brown eyes sparkled gently, complimenting the shine of her brown curls.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Recognition washed over her as she stepped away from Tom, hoping not to make this awkward for anyone, “Jane.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman smiled, “Hello, Becky...it’s been a while.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before Becky could say anything else, the woman stepped forward, holding her hands out towards the two, “I’m sorry you both had to see that side of me...she’s…” she looked down for a moment, “...broken...and vindictive. What happened to the both of you in there was wrong and I’m sorry you had to face it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Janey…” Tom whispered, shaking his head slightly, “That wasn’t you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane smiled softly, “That’s sweet, Tom...but in some ways, it </span>
  </em>
  <span>was</span>
  <em>
    <span>..”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was a look of regret that flashed in her eyes as she went on, “It’s like Becky said, we’re all a little broken...and that’s okay, but the version of me that you met within your nightmare time...well, she was darker than most.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane smiled again, turning to look at Becky, with a soft concerned look in her eyes, “Are you alright? She hit you pretty hard.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“She hit you!?!” Tom whirled towards Becky, his eyes wide in concern.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky nodded, still kind of in awe of the situation, “But...It doesn’t hurt anymore…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Beck, you’re bleeding,” Tom mused, one of his hands going to her head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No...she’s not,” Jane shook her head, “Her wounds healed upon entering the daydream. She’ll have a little scar, but physically she’ll be okay. I was asking if…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mentally?” Becky sighed, a soft smile coming to her face, “Mentally I might need a little bit of therapy...but I’ll live,” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Me too,” Tom sighed, looking at Jane with an uneasy look in his eyes, “So...how…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How am I here?” Jane murmured, “Well...I’m sure you’ll recall Hidgens mentioning that we escaped Nightmare Time to here, correct?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s right,” Becky nodded, “He said that Paul and Emma gave you a back door without even knowing it...so…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, I reside here now, yes,” Jane nodded, smiling to herself, “It’s a peaceful life...and I can’t return to my earthly body, so I remain here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom looked around, nodding, his eyes tracing over the flowers, to the quaint farmhouse in the distance, “It’s lovely.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mm-hmm,” Jane nodded, smiling contently, “I’m happy here….and I’m so happy to know that you’re happy in life too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked to Becky, “Which is why….I wanted to thank you, Becky.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Me?” Becky’s eyes widened, “W-why?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“For being patient,” Jane smiled, “For being loving. For being everything my boys need without knowing. I’m glad that you make my son happy, Becky...and I’m glad you make Tom happy, too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky felt tears come to her eyes, shellshocked by the statement, “Jane...I…I don’t know what to say...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman simply smiled and shook her head, “When I died, my biggest worry was that Tom would disappear beneath all of the gruffness again. That it would toughen him up again and Tim would do the same...But…” she smiled gratefully at her,  “You came along and made sure the softness he has didn’t disappear.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky swallowed, debating her next words very carefully, but she knew they had to be said.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love them, Jane,” she said softly, a small smile crossing her face, “They make me happy in ways that I can’t even describe...and I love them for it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane chuckled softly and her smile grew, “And that’s all I could ever ask for.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, the curly-haired brunette turned to Tom and reached out, gently cupping his face, “Hold on to this one, Tom. She’s a rare one.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom nodded and smiled, “Don’t I know it…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky fought against a blush that worked its way onto her cheeks as Tom looked at Jane. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know…” Tom whispered, “Part of me will always love you, Jane.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” the woman nodded, “And I will love you too...but there are always ways to move on. Holding on to me will not help you...if that nightmare taught you anything.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tom chuckled and nodded.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not like you’re forgetting that I ever existed,” Jane smiled looking at him with sincerity in her eyes, “You’re moving on. You’re doing what you need to do to be happy…and Becky makes you happy.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky smiled, tears coming to her eyes as she watched Tom smile and nod, a blush painting his cheeks.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Becky makes me happier than I deserve,” Tom nodded, “Tim too…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And that’s all I ever wanted,” Jane smiled, lowering her hand from his face and simply squeezing his hand, “Be happy, Tom. Be happy, and make sure that Tim is too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I will,” Tom nodded, his voice a tearful whisper as he smiled at his deceased wife, “I will, Janey, I promise.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good,” Jane nodded with a soft smile, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and turning to Becky, who straightened and smiled softly at the woman.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Look after them for me, Beck, okay?” Jane smiled, “You were the mother hen of the group when I wasn’t around in high school, weren’t you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well,” Becky chuckled softly at the memory, “I certainly tried.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane chuckled and smiled warmly again, “Thank you, Becky….I really mean it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, the woman smiled and gestured to the fields down by the farmhouse, where several silhouette figures could be seen, wandering among the flowers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your family’s down there, waiting for you,” she smiled, “Go home...and be happy.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky and Tom both turned to see where the people she was referencing had started to trek up the hill towards them, the noticeable figure of Hannah leading the charge as she tore through the flowers towards them. Becky laughed softly and felt more tears come to her eyes as she saw the faces of some of the people they’d lost, filling her with hope. She saw Alice holding her father’s arm as she led him up the hill. She could see Lex running after Hannah, tearing through the tall flowers, hope in her gaze as she did. She saw Lucy smiling gently as she followed them, followed by Hidgens wrapped in what looked like a bathrobe (why he was wearing that, she wouldn’t dare ask) one hand on his head as he followed, making sure the tie was secure. Finally, she saw Miss Holloway holding hands with another man she didn’t recognize, but she assumed he was the Duke character she spoke so highly of. At that moment she was reminded of the life she had now. She was reminded of the people in life that she had that loved her. The people who valued her life, and the people who were waiting for her in the waking world. Tom’s hand gently slid into her own and he squeezed, before turning around with a soft smile on his face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, and Ja-” he was cut off as they both turned around to realize that Jane was gone, with no indication of where she had gone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A small bittersweet smile crossed his face as he looked off into the distance. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, he whispered a small ‘thank you’ under his breath, and turned to Becky, a small, loving smile on his face. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you, Becky,’” he whispered, “You know that, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Becky’s heart soared at the sound of the words she longed to hear him say for so long, finally revealing themselves to her after long months of waiting and hoping that he would wake up. She squeezed his hand softly and leaned into his side as she nodded, a smile coming on her face as she realized that she had saved his life. That they were safe now, and they were one step closer to completing their mission successfully.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you too.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miss Holloway exhaled shakily, the stream of inky tears finally ceasing as she looked up, making John hold his breath. The revelation that something had gone wrong in Becky’s mission had left everyone in the room on edge. Some nurses off to the side were praying as Miss Holloway worked as hard as she could to keep the spell going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since the revelation that Tom and Becky were in danger had been dropped, there had been no other news as the witch kept the spell going. The inky tears that had rolled down her face had gathered into a little puddle on the ground before her, looking as if a car had left oil on a road. Still, as the woman straightened and looked over her shoulder, the entire room waited with bated breath for news of Becky’s mission, all of them hoping for the best, but not knowing what the worst would have been, even as they braced themselves for it.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“They…” Miss Holloway choked out, “They made it.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>John exhaled sharply as a slight amount of relief washed over him, “What happened?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Miss Holloway looked at Becky and tilted her head, “Becky had some trouble...but they had some help.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>John would take that as an answer for the time being. What mattered was that they’d made it and they were safe. Which meant they only had two more people to retrieve from the depths of what might as well have been hell itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced over to where Emma remained, the woman mostly silent and determined for the duration of the mission. He knew how determined she was to retrieve Paul. Of course, part of her mission was to stay in Nightmare Time until the intersection with Ted’s nightmare occurred, but the fact remained that she was mostly going into the dreams to retrieve Paul. Since the mission had begun, the woman hadn’t said much. Other than her brief exchange with Becky, Emma had mostly been a quiet observer, with nothing terribly abnormal about her vitals that were outside of what Phillipa had already observed. Because of this, Phillipa had stated that they didn’t need to worry about Emma’s health...but the truth remained that Emma was going to enter Nightmare Time soon enough, and while they had faith that it wouldn’t have any effect on the child she was carrying, there was still a great part of it that put John’s nerves on edge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ted and Paul were looking a little worse for wear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the symptoms of being within Nightmare Time were mostly lessened within the other patients, the black web-like veins slowly disappearing from their necks and their vitals becoming less and less extreme, Paul and Ted seemed to be worsening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In some ways, everyone had been holding their breath with Ted when it came to his health. Between all the physical trauma the Lords in Black had been putting him through when he first had been taken by Tinky, and the outward trauma that people had to inflict upon him to keep him from harming anyone else, namely Hidgens shooting him when he tried to kill Emma, and then Emma stabbing him in the leg to get him away from Paul, had taken a toll on the man’s health. It also certainly didn’t help that the man had seized just before everyone had been dragged into Nightmare Time, which was why Phillipa and Kamaria had ordered that people keep a close eye on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paul, however, had just been continually worsening. Unlike the others in their Nightmare Time, the man was already dead, which supposedly led him to be predisposed to worsening vitals. Rather than trying to speed up his condition to fit their timetable, they were trying to slow it down to ensure that the man didn’t die before they could ever have a chance to save him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emma had remained resolute by his side, sitting on the gurney with one hand over her stomach, looking both focused and a thousand miles away with her mind. Part of him wanted to go up to her and ask her if she wanted to back out, but given the woman’s stubborn nature, there was nothing John could do that would convince her to leave this mission alone. And so, they found themselves in another situation where it was up to Paul or Emma to pull the other back from death and what lay beyond it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emma,” Xander called to the woman, seemingly sharing John’s train of thought as he regarded her, “You ready for this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman sighed and looked down at Paul, her eyes filled with the repressed pain and exhaustion that she’d carried with her over the course of the previous few weeks, seemingly being weighed down by it.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Emma murmured, barely audible over the sound of Miss Holloway’s power as it flew throughout the room, the redheaded woman looking noticeably more exhausted than she had before.</span> <span>Something told John that Becky’s encounter with Jane had been less than pleasant and had done something to make the process of the mission all the more difficult.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Miss Holloway murmured, “Because he isn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone turned to Miss Holloway, confusion in their gazes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander raised an eyebrow, “What? What do you mean he’s not ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it’s not time yet,” Miss Holloway grunted through grit teeth, “She’s still alive in his dream…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, right...they had to wait until Emma was dead to send her in, which meant more stalling and more delays until they had everyone they lost safe and sound. He knew it wasn’t right to be impatient during situations such as this, but the truth of the matter was, that with as dire as everything was, he was anxious to see them all well and what was wrong would be righted. That way, they had a better chance at fighting the Lords in Black.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xander sighed and nodded, looking at Miss Holloway, “So...now what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now…” the woman shook her head, sighing softly as she turned her gaze on Paul, one of her eyes turning a stormy shade of blue as she made a connection with his Nightmare, before she delivered one of the phrases John knew definitively that he hated hearing. It wasn’t that she’d been the one to say them, it was just what the saying entailed that he didn’t like...not when he wanted all of them free so they could come home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now we wait.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...that was fun.</p>
<p>Bill and Alice deserve the world. That is all. Thank you and goodnight. </p>
<p>Alice loves her father and she took a risky move saving him the way that she did. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Alice Woodward is a badass.</p>
<p>Bill's free!! (But he's still blind :( )</p>
<p>Stan Becky Barnes or die by my blade.</p>
<p>Becky Barnes loves Tom Houston. She really said 'fuck it' and reminded him through a nice round of tonsil hockey, effectively angering the undead car-wife, as one does, but hey, it got the point across. </p>
<p>Well...car!Jane is gone...but damn, Becky's mind was put through the wringer. </p>
<p>We love real!Jane. Real Jane just wants Tom and Tim to be happy. I really enjoyed writing about Jane as a character, particularly her pain as it's shown through Becky's mind. Of course, none of that pain matters when Jane's dead, as we saw, but it really was fun to explore her character depth that way.</p>
<p>Anyway, two of the best Hatchetfield Dads™ have escaped!!! </p>
<p>Um...Miss Holloway, you okay there?</p>
<p>Paul and Ted are all that's left.</p>
<p>Good luck, Emma. </p>
<p>Please leave comments and/or kudos to let me know what you think!! Your feedback really means the world (and I will get to responding to the comments left on the last chapter soon enough!! This week has just been really busy!!) even if it's just incoherent screeching!!</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading this chapter!! I know I'm posting this super late, so be sure you're prioritizing sleep over this!! Sleep is healthy. This fic will be here for when you can read it!! Make the time for healthy things and take care of yourself!!! Have. a great day and stay safe!!!</p>
<p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. I Can't Find My Way Home, There's No Place to Hide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Mission™ Part Three</p><p>Emma's mission begins.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter title for this comes from the song "The Dreaming Tree" by the Dave Matthews Band.</p><p>!!TRIGGER WARNING!!: Knife, graphic depictions of violence, blood, murder, ghosts, like...a shit ton of blood, guys. It's bad.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>As 23 pulled up to one of the nicer hotels on the more northern sides of downtown Hatchetfield, Paul still found himself reeling at the revelation that he was somehow in love with Emma. The urge to protect her fueling him to continue to follow her and the clone to ensure that she was safe, even though the earlier events at The Birdhouse had proven that his attempt to intervene would do nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As 23 parked, Emma looked around with wide eyes, expertly surveying the parking lot to see if the woman that 23 had married had followed them, her eyes were filled with a look that he could somehow recognize so clearly. It bordered on both fear and contemplation, almost as if she was constantly waiting for something to jump out and bite her. Still, she was smart. Being cautious after what had happened inside the birdhouse was likely the best option. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay…” she whispered, “Coast is clear.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, she hastily opened the passenger seat door while 23 followed anxiously, practically running after her as she made her way quickly around the parking lot and into Woodview Suites, the hotel where he and Emma had spent their wedding night. For a moment, 23 paused, looking up at the hotel with a soft look in his eyes as if he were remembering how happy and at peace they were that night. How wonderful the idea of being married to Emma Perkins was to him. Part of Paul felt bad for him, knowing how difficult it must be for it to come crashing down around him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were about halfway across the parking lot before Emma awkwardly grabbed his arm, “Come on, man, I don’t want to be out if your crazy-ass wife shows up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 looked like he was about to protest, but whatever it was that he said faded with a mumble as he kept up with Emma, following her into the hotel hastily and nodding at the people they passed as if the panic they both were feeling was nonexistent and he, at the very least, was trying to give off the impression that they were okay. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul followed silently, still not willing to take any chances of leaving Emma alone with this man. This clone was hiding just about as much as the woman he’d married.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As Emma practically punched the elevator button and impatiently tapped her foot on the ground eyeing 23 out of the side of her eyes as he stood, rather awkwardly beside her, his eyes anxiously darting around as if he were expecting something bad to happen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After an agonizingly long period of time, the doors to the elevator slid open and 23, Paul, and Emma stepped inside. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As the doors shut, and the rickety old contraption began to ascend the several floors of the hotel, Paul took notice of the way Emma’s hand was gingerly going up to touch at her neck, where there was the sight of red and purple swollen welts forming around the area. It was at that moment that Paul was reminded of the way that the other Emma had savagely gripped at her throat and squeezed, just before she’d attempted to use a bottle to eviscerate her. She hissed as her fingers made contact with a dark bruise forming on her neck and Paul jumped. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you okay?” he asked, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t hear him, and was left feeling empty and sick when she didn’t respond as if he’d never spoken at all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and looked down as she flinched and groaned under her breath, making 23 snap to attention.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you okay?” he asked her, looking at her with concern as he was snapped back to reality.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She scoffed and shook her head, “Your wife ever choke you before?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 looked contemplative for a moment and opened his mouth to speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t…” Paul murmured, “Just...don’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Emma seemed to have the exact same idea as she cut 23 off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t answer that!” she sighed, “It’s just...I thought I was going to die back there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” 23 nodded,  a regretful look crossing his face, “I’m so sorry that happened...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma shrugged, waving him off, “Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more fucked-up…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m…” 23 began, “I’m sorry...for what happened...at the Birdhouse.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma sighed and shook her head, “You didn’t ask for her to be a murderous maniac...or whatever the hell she is…” she paused for a moment before eyeing him suspiciously, “You didn’t know about that, did you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” 23 asked as if genuinely baffled by the notion, “No! No! I had no idea...she...she never told me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His voice was hurt and confused as he looked down before turning back to Emma, concern in his eyes, “But...you’re not...seriously hurt, are you? Do we need to go to a hospital?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nah,” Emma shook her head, waving him off, “I’ve had worse in Guatemala...but if you hadn’t walked in when you had, I’m fairly certain she’d have gutted me like a fish so...thanks, I guess.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The elevator jerked suddenly, somewhat abruptly, and being cut off-balance, Emma stumbled into 23’s side with a yelp, practically falling into him. The man flushed and awkwardly helped her up into a standing position.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry,” he murmured awkwardly, face flushed a little bit as he stood a little straighter, fiddling with his tie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, Emma studied him, looking him up and down and softly shaking her head, as if he were a book she was trying so hard to read, but couldn’t understand a single word that had been written. Paul could only stare in awe at her and wonder why it felt like he’d already known her for so long. Why did he feel like he’d already spent lifetimes with this person standing before him, eyeing the man who was an exact copy of him with confusion. Part of him wondered what she thought of 23. Obviously, they’d gotten off on the wrong foot with that confrontation on the street earlier today, before they’d realized there was more than one person with the same face...but what did she think of him now? She obviously didn’t hate him enough to leave him in that bar with the other Emma, whose wrath had already cost the lives of so many people...in fact, she’d taken 23 with her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A more selfish part of his mind wished that he’d had the chance to meet her before either of them had known that they had murderous versions of themselves hellbent on taking their lives. Part of him felt as if that was something that had been meant to happen...but never had. A wishful side of his mind wished that their paths had crossed before...that maybe they’d be given a chance at life before it was taken from them. Maybe he would have gotten to live a life with Emma Perkins after all...but...life wasn’t on either of their sides.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But that didn’t matter anymore...he was dead. Emma was alive...and he would do anything he could to make sure she got to live her life. Even if nothing he did had any effect on the world he watched, he would try anything to make sure that she got the chance he’d never had...that she would get away from the woman who’d taken her life from her...the woman he’d once loved. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was all so confusing that he’d first fallen for a person who’d been masquerading as her. It felt strange to realize that he loved this Emma when really he’d fallen in love with the false one first. Did that mean that...in some strange way...he would have fallen for this Emma all the same? After all, with the exception of the absence of a wedding band on her left hand, and the bruises she was now sporting on her neck- the sight of which had made his heart ache, she was the perfect reflection of the other Emma. If he’d known when he’d first met that other Emma that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, did that mean that in some ways he would have picked this Emma too? And if that other Emma had chosen 23...did that mean that if they’d been given the chance, she would choose him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook away those thoughts for he knew they no longer mattered. All that mattered was Emma’s safety. Emma’s life now meant more to him than anything in the world. No matter that his name or his face had meant nothing to her. He’d do anything to ensure her safety. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned to 23 and hoped with all of his might that whatever happened, this clone would give the mercy he’d never given his original to Emma. He wanted him to give her the chance at life that he’d never gotten. If there was a small shred of humanity in this person, then perhaps he’d have the sense to let her live.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’d have to be stupid if you didn’t know that sooner or later, 23 would have to choose between his wife or Emma...and Paul dreaded the outcome.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> His eyes traced nervously away from Emma as he watched the number on the elevator screen change from two to three, and quickly coming to a stop. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The old doors screeched slightly as they opened, making Paul cringe as Emma hurried out, digging a hotel keycard out of the pocket of her ripped jeans.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay…” she whispered as she pulled the door open. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As she opened the door, Paul found himself being startled as he recognized the room’s layout. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d been there before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well...not him...but his clone. Paul had just been dragged around awkwardly watching the newlyweds indulge that sweet marital bliss they were experiencing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As he watched his clone study the room, it was almost as if 23 had been living in that moment again with a bittersweet and pain-filled sort of air. It was almost as if the words they’d exchanged seemed to echo through the dismal air of the room as Emma walked over and closed the curtains, the door falling shut behind 23 and making him jump. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you, Mrs. Matthews.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you too, Mr. Perkins…”</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 looked over the room, sadness growing in his eyes as if he were contemplating if every aspect of his life had been a lie. There was a moment of silence as he looked at the room as if remembering how happy he’d been before Emma spoke. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright,” Emma sighed as she looked around the room, sounding as if she was out of breath, “You can lay low here with me tonight.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> 23 continued to scan the room as recognition mixed with a great deal of sadness became more and more evident on his face, “This is where you’re staying?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma shrugged as she moved the large duffel they’d seen her carrying earlier out of the way and dropping it messily in the corner, as if she’d brought home a guest she didn’t know she’d be receiving, “Yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emma...um...the other Emma…” 23’s eyes flashed guiltily around the room before turning to Emma,“...Booked this place for our wedding night.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah, I see…”  Emma mused, her eyes scanning around the room, “She’s a cheap ass too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s thrifty,” 23 argued, making Paul snort at the man’s half-assed attempt to defend his wife’s tastes. 23 sighed and turned to Emma, an insistent look in his eyes as his hands fiddled with the wedding band on his finger, “Look, maybe we don’t need to hide! I’m sure if I just talked to her, I could work this out! She’s a reasonable person.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma scoffed and sank onto the sofa pushed off to the side, kicking off her combat boots, “Tell that to those bikers.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s probably scared, okay?” 23 argued, looking very intent on defending his wife, “She’d never do anything violent unless she felt threatened! And those bikers looked very rude!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like you?” Paul murmured, “I wasn’t threatening you. Didn’t stop you from killing me...so why should it stop her from killing Emma?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You don’t know her, man!” Emma argued, throwing her hands up in exasperation “She’s a liar! She’s walking around with my face, my life, my history!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul’s heart twisted at the indignance in her voice. He knew all too well what that felt like. If there was anything he’d understood as a result of playing an unwilling ghost tied to his murderer, he knew what it was like to learn that your life had been stolen away. Those first few days had been the worst. Between realizing that he was dead, and the man who’d killed him was smiling and living his life for him, he’d felt so much panic and could only scream in hopes that someone would hear him. It was strange how long ago that had been…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell...that had been over a year ago.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d been dead for so long, sometimes he forgot that he no longer had his own existence. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The relationship 23 had with Emma...or the other Emma, as they now knew, had gone so fast, and yet, it was wonderfully paced for them, it seemed. It looked as if one of the few differences between Paul and his double had been that 23 was less hesitant when it came to his relationship with Emma. A little over a year later, and the two of them were already married. Part of Paul was sad that he knew it would have taken him at least a full year to even entertain the idea or dare to hope he could ever be married to someone as wonderful as Emma Perkins. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was snapped out of his thoughts as Emma continued to vent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She even thinks like me!” she ranted as she leaned back into the couch cushions, looking like she had a headache, “You know what I did today? I went and I got an application to work at Beanies. The lady there goes, ‘You don’t need to apply, you’ve already got the job’! I’m thinking ‘Wow, that’s really nice! Maybe this town has changed while I was away!’ But nope! It’s still as fucked up as ever!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 sighed in defeat before sinking down onto the couch beside her, looking at her with a small smile on his face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know,” he murmured, looking at Emma, “I like Hatchetfield. Always have...always will. I’m a one town kinda guy, I guess.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul sighed. He’d heard that phrase come from himself so many times. It was painful to hear it come from the mouth of someone who looked exactly like him...and yet, it wasn’t him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It made him think about how much time he’d wasted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma was staring at 23 with a look that was both a mix of confusion and awe as she shook her head, murmuring slightly to herself, “This is amazing…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is?” 23 raised an eyebrow and looked at her in confusion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That...she picked you,” Emma whispered, “That means….in some way, I would pick you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Inexplicably, Paul’s heart twisted in his chest at the notion. He wondered if she would have picked him. After all, she was looking at an exact replica of him, but there were ever so slight differences in mannerisms that distinguished the two of them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s like…” Emma whispered slightly, still looking at him up and down, “...why?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know,” he shrugged, looking off into the distance, “Maybe you had to be there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something about the words made Paul’s heart twist painfully again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wished he’d gotten the chance to meet this Emma. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d wished they’d at the very least met once before their lives had been tangled with copies of them, people who wanted to see them </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Listen….” she sighed, adjusting her sleeve slightly, looking 23 up and down again, I know you’re having a hard day… not worse than mine...but it sucks to be you right now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 let a small, bitter chuckle loose and shook his head, staring at Emma as if he couldn’t quite grasp the fact that this wasn’t his wife.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You seem like a nice guy...What she did to you is not fair…” Emma went on, still looking at 23 with an odd look of  “And you really saved my ass back there, so...I dunno...You wanna get high and see where things go?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my God…” Paul sighed shaking his head and fighting back against a small grin that rose on his face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Somehow, Emma always could say things that would make him smile in the direst of situations…but still, part of him felt sad. Would she have wanted that with him if he was there with her instead of 23? It felt odd of him to be thinking of that, especially because chances were that he would possibly have to watch his double have sex with some iteration of the woman he loved...again (which, was a lot more awkward for him than it sounded), instead, he decided to focus on the dire situation at hand, not wanting to put much thought into relationship politics, or anything in that regard. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 smiled softly to himself, “Huh…That’s exactly what she said to me the first night we made love.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You just </span>
  </em>
  <span>had </span>
  <em>
    <span>to bring that up,” Paul sighed shaking his head. Why his double had to bring up his inherent horniness subtly in almost any conversation he was having today, Paul would never know. Emma didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that he’d mentioned his first time having sex with her double, and more concerned with the fact that he’d heard the phrase at all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Man!” she exclaimed, looking annoyed, “She’s stealing all of my moves! Anyway...you get what I’m hinting at?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked him up and down again, scooting a little closer to 23 on the couch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean...you’re my husband, right?” she continued, absentmindedly curling a finger through the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid, “I’m curious! If I bought the car...I wanna look under the hood.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But…” 23 looked hesitant, “You’re not Emma.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Emma sighed annoyedly, shaking her head, “I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am </span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not. She’s a murderer, who lied to you this whole time! And I haven’t gotten any action since I left my boyfriend in Guatemala. He wanted to get married. It was getting too heavy...I </span>
  </em>
  <span>had </span>
  <em>
    <span>to get out of there…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and looked down, before looking back up at 23, “So...what do you say? We doin’ this or not?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For a moment, Paul would have thought that 23 seriously was considering it. It was clear that there was some form of attraction, especially considering the fact that the woman before him could have just as easily been his wife...but one look at the wedding ring on his finger made Paul realize that while 23 was a lying, murdering bastard, he was still loyal to Emma. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Um...Emma…it is tempting,” he mused, his hand fiddling with the wedding ring on his finger, “...but I can’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul sighed. Part of him was relieved that he wouldn’t have to watch them do...that, but if there was anything about that decision that became clear, it was that 23 would choose his wife if it came down to Emma’s life or her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 smiled softly, looking down at the ring on his finger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whoever or...whatever...that woman is,” 23 murmured, a soft look in his eyes, as he looked back up at Emma, “She’s my wife.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul sighed and turned to Emma, knowing that nothing he said would reach her, but knowing that it was information she was going to need if she wanted a chance at survival at all in the near future. The truth was there that Emma would never survive as long as she remained in Hatchetfield and the other Emma was hunting her. The woman had already proven herself to be more dangerous than 23 ever could be. If Emma stayed here with 23, inevitably his wife would find her. She would find her and then she would kill her. As much as Emma could hold her own, the truth of the matter was that she wouldn’t be safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You need to get out of h-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CREEEEAAAAAAKK</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of the bathroom door opening stopped him and made 23 and Emma jump to their feet as a figure emerged from the shadows. Blood staining her shirt and skirt, a knife aloft in her hand, a blue eye replacing the brown one that had been stabbed through back at the birdhouse. In some twisted, strange way, she was still absolutely beautiful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma Matthews smiled softly at 23 as he stared at her in awe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m proud of you, Paul.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><em><span>“Holy shit,” Emma breathed, looking like she was scanning the room for any potential escape route.</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>“I knew Emma wouldn’t be able to resist your charms,” the other Emma continued, looking at 23 with a fond expression, “But the real question was, could you resist hers? And you did.”</span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 was just staring at his wife with wide eyes as if he still couldn’t comprehend what was occurring.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma, however, was less speechless, “How did you find us?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s the cheapest place in town without bedbugs,” the other Emma deadpanned, “It wasn’t rocket science, Emma.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Damn…” Emma cursed under her breath, “Well, how’d you know the room number?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you kidding?” the other Emma raised an eyebrow like it was obvious, “Whenever possible we always ask for the same room number. 311...our favorite band.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wordlessly, Paul stepped in front of Emma. Somehow, he knew what was going to happen. He knew somehow, some way, either Emma was going to have to make a run for it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please…” he whispered, not knowing which of the two- 23 or the other Emma, “Please...just let her live.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As per usual, with harrowing and chilling regard, they couldn’t hear his words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other Emma inspected the knife, the bloodstains from the massacre at the bar still present on the handle, though the blade itself had been cleaned. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now…” she mused, holding up the knife and looking at the real Emma, “Let’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>cut </span>
  <em>
    <span>to the chase, shall we?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma shifted uncomfortably on the gurney, the material of the jumpsuit she’d been provided with scratching across her abdomen as she waited anxiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been half an hour since Miss Holloway had announced that Becky had succeeded in retrieving Tom from his nightmare, with only a little resistance from the worst possible version of her sister to have ever existed and that now, the only person left to retrieve the victims, was her. Unfortunately, however, the circumstances of Paul’s Nightmare Time required one of Emma’s worst adversaries of her entire life; patience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She understood the delicacy of the situation. The lives of Paul and Ted were in her hands, and if she wanted to do this mission successfully, they had to wait for a specific moment in time in his Nightmare to pass, but she wasn’t the best at waiting for things like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been waiting for several weeks to get him back. All of the work and preparation and nights where she’d done her best to get some sleep for both her good and the good of the baby all so they could see them back home with them. She wanted him home and safe and awake. She’d waited for this day for so long, and yet, the fact that she had to wait now made every single second feel like an agonizing eternity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept looking nervously over at Paul, his face still covered in medical wiring and tubing, as well as the black web-like pattern which made him look like a corpse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated seeing him like this. She wanted him home. She wanted him to wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, across from her, Miss Holloway looked exhausted. Since working with Becky’s mission, she’d looked like some event had weakened her. As if she couldn’t focus with the same strength that she had for the original first few missions, which was only slightly worrisome, but Emma tried not to get into her own head. If she let her thoughts run wild, she knew that she was practically opening the door for a screw-up. She was opening the door for more fear and pain than she bargained for, and that wasn’t something she was willing to endure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How will I know that he’s ready for it?” she asked, looking over to Miss Holloway, who was looking like she needed to sleep for a century.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Holloway cracked open an eye, this one a shade of stormy blue to show that she’d found a connection with Paul’s mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The risks associated with her mission in particular were clear. Go in too early, and she’d likely get herself and therefore, the child she was carrying, killed. Go in too late, and it was unlikely she’d be able to make a connection with Paul and convince him of what was real. And she knew she needed to connect with Paul fast because then they would have to wait out the moment until Ted was going to be killed and their respective Nightmare Times. This would lead to a complicated means where they’d have to convince Ted of reality and get him to come with them before Tinky tried to claim his soul for his own...no pressure, Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Holloway sighed and looked at her, “You’ll know. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the woman wasn’t already having a hard time, Emma would have likely asked her what the hell that meant, or maybe even ask what it was that she was looking for, but judging from the way that Miss Holloway was focusing extremely hard on what she was doing, Emma bit her tongue and turned to look at Paul again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was eerie...how still he was. It didn’t seem like he was breathing. Of course, he had a tube running through one of his nostrils to assist with his breathing, since his respiratory rate was different from the rest of them, but his chest didn’t rise and fall in the same steady rhythm that everyone else’s did. It didn’t seem right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, if they got this right, that meant he could come home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran a hand over her stomach, feeling a small fluttering sensation as if the baby was trying to reassure her that everything was going to be okay, much like its father always did for her when things were going wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the millionth time over the course of the past few weeks, Paul’s voice echoed in her mind again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s going to be okay...okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She inhaled and exhaled sharply, reaching out so her fingers could brush against his cold and stiff hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evidently, neither version of Emma had any inclination to show the other mercy as they lunged at one another, trying ceaselessly to determine which of the two of them would be the remaining Emma in this world. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As the other Emma swung for Emma, the real one dodged and ran out of the way, sending the other one into the sofa slashing wildly and nearly hitting 23, who fell to the ground and scrambled to the side, watching what was happening with wide eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><em><span>They were ruthless as they fought one another, Emma swinging a lamp pole to try and fend off her murderous double, who seemed like she was much more clear in her intent to murder Emma.</span></em> <em><span>It was clear that the real Emma’s intent was survival, the other Emma’s intent was to kill.</span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop, please!” Paul shouted, just pleading with nobody who could hear him as the two of them continued to fight, “Please stop!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was no use. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned to 23, who was standing by the wall, looking like he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do. His eyes were darting around as he watched the two Emma’s grapple around with one another. As the real Emma swung the standing lamp again, it made direct contact with the murderer, sending the knife out of her hand, flying in his direction as the other Emma threw it, passing through Paul and sinking into the wall of the hotel room with a terrifying thunk a few inches from 23’s head.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23’s eyes widened as his eyes settled on the knife, almost sunken fully into the wall, the Emma’s not bothering to go for it as they grappled with one another, almost fighting as if they both were professionals at it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do something!” Paul shouted at his double, “She’s going to kill her if you don’t stop it!!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two Emma’s were still in their battle. They managed to crash into the bedroom breaking the headboard of the bed with a crack, the two of them trying desperately to survive. The real Emma’s nose was bleeding as she dodged another attack from the other Emma, trying to grapple at her bruised neck once more before she managed to kick her away. They stood staring one another down. The real Emma spit blood, the crimson fluid running in ribbons down her cheek from where something had nicked her just under her eye. The murderous double’s blue eye sparked and twitched, making it more clear that it wasn’t her own.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They started to lunge for one another when suddenly, a shout got their attention.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emmas…” 23’s voice was shaky, “Stop!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two Emma’s stopped before running at one another again, turning slowly to look at 23, Paul turning with them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 stood at the wall, his whole body shaking as he held the large knife in his outstretched arms, his eyes darting between the two as he pointed it at both of him, terror in his blue eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No…” Paul whispered. He knew that 23 knew how to use a knife. After all, the wounds on his stomach and chest proved that the man had killed before and would do it again. But this time, the knife wasn’t trained on him. Now, it was trained on both of the Emmas.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it!” 23 cried in a shaky voice, clearly having had enough, “Just stop it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Both of the E</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Calm down, Paul,” the real Emma whispered, her voice caught in a shaky whisper, “Put down the knife.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, Paul,” his wife whispered, a comforting tone to her voice despite the dried blood that covered her, “Take that knife and stab her in the throat.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do I need to stab anybody?!” 23 cried, “Why can’t the two of you just get along?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, we’re not getting along,” Emma deadpanned like it was obvious, before looking at her double, “You stole my life!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t deserve your life!” the double cried with a smirk on her face, “You weren’t living it! You were running away from it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Only one of us is walking out of this room,” Emma cried with a shaky voice before turning to 23, “Paul...I’m the real Emma. Do the right thing and give </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span> my life back!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What about our life, Paul?” his wife asked, a vague look of hurt in her eyes as she looked at 23, “She’s gonna destroy everything we have!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma scoffed, “What you have is a lie!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><em><span>“What you have…” the other Emma cut in, looking at 23 with a look of deep affection, almost as if she was pleading with him to make the right choice. That he would choose her, “Is a wife who loves </span></em><span>you.</span> <span>I’m</span><em><span> the woman you fell in love with Paul!”</span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, you did it using my face and my name!” Emma cried, her shaky and frightened voice filled with anger. She turned to Paul, “I’m the woman you </span>
  </em>
  <span>should </span>
  <em>
    <span>be in love with!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, if only she knew how true that was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As they spoke, both Emma’s were slowly getting closer and closer to 23. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But she doesn’t love you back!” the other Emma cried, looking like she was partially terrified of the notion of 23 not being in love with her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who knows!?!” the real Emma cried, “I just met the guy, he looks alright!!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul,” the other Emma sighed, her eyes staring her husband down intently, “You made a vow to </span>
  </em>
  <span>me...</span>
  <em>
    <span>remember?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23’s eyes went to his wife, looking at her like he wasn’t sure what to think as she delivered the final kicker.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forever and Always.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Those words seemed to make 23 freeze and Paul felt panic fill him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please,” he begged, “Please let her live! Please let her go!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From his other side, the real Emma scoffed, terror and adrenaline making her shake more, “Vow?! Are you kidding?! Marriage is bullshit!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 crept back slowly as the Emmas got closer and closer, looking like he was five seconds away from a full-on panic attack, a sentiment Paul could share. With each passing second, he was silently begging Emma to run. At the very least she could try to make a run for it while the two artificial versions of them were distracted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m the one you built something with, Paul,” the false Emma cut in, trying to convince him further.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can build something with me! I’m looking for investors!” the real Emma cried desperately, “I’m gonna start a pot farm! We could start it together!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it…” 23 whispered, tears filling his eyes, “You’re confusing me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Think of our home, Paul,” the false Emma murmured softly, looking at 23 imploringly, “Our dreams. Our past. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Our future</span>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The look on 23’s face wavered slightly as if part of his heart had twisted at the notion and Paul knew exactly what he was thinking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A future with Emma. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was all 23 wanted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul knew because he’d wanted it too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The man looked like he was keeping with the words his wife had said as she leaned forward and held her hand out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul…” she said calmly, “Give me that knife…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No!” Emma cried, “Give me the knife, Paul!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Give me that knife!!” the two Emmas shouted in unison.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A look on 23’s face had shifted as if he’d made his choice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if he couldn’t take anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A look Paul knew all too well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No…” he murmured,  tears filling his own eyes, trying to beg with the universe that what he knew was about to happen wouldn’t happen, “Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>23 had made his choice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> As 23 lunged forward, turning towards Emma, Paul felt terror filling him and his blood ran cold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma’s eyes widened as the man lunged forward, stabbing the blade in her direction.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>PAUL NO!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“NO!” Paul screamed as he watched the man run forward. Tears rolling down his cheeks in desperation as the visceral sound of Emma screaming invoked a sense of terror. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He ran in front of her, trying to block the knife from hitting her, ready to take the blow, but could only watch as the knife phased through him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>….and sank savagely into Emma’s chest. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul turned slowly, terror and anguish filling him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And suddenly, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Emma as her eyes widened and tears filled them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked at 23, a look of shock and betrayal in her brown eyes as red bloomed on her shirt. A small hoarse scream of pain left her as 23 looked away and pulled the knife free before bringing it down again, it phasing through Paul, who could only stand uselessly, unable to protect Emma.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At some point, the other Emma had walked up behind the real Emma and held her hand over the other woman’s mouth to stifle her screams as the tears rolled down her cheeks and 23 kept stabbing her, hoarse breaths leaving him as blood covered him completely, not stopping for anything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then...it was silent. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul was shaking, staring at the face of his double, covered in blood...</span>
  </em>
  <span>her </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tears rolled down his double’s cheeks as he dropped the knife, and Paul turned around. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other Emma let go of the real one, letting the body of the woman sink to the floor, and Paul could only stare at her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her final expression of terror and pain was frozen on her face. Her final tears ran clear rivers through the splatters of her own blood covering her face. She sank limply to the floor at the feet of her double, her blood becoming a crimson lake on the old carpet of the hotel.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul couldn’t breathe...not that he needed to, anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This wasn’t supposed to happen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head as he stared at her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tears dripped down his cheeks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was so much blood…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was too much blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though he technically couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>any physical object that surrounded him, it felt as if her blood was covering him. As if he was soaked in it, and he couldn’t get it off of him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, even as the only Emma left alive comforted his double, trying to get him to come back to her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The worst part about it was her eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were looking right at him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But they didn’t see him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They no longer saw anybody.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was unable to comprehend the hoarse cry that left him as he stared at her, shaking, hot tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed falling quickly in rivers that never seemed to end. He couldn’t stop shaking, he couldn’t breathe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m…” he choked, hot tears falling from his eyes as he looked at the body of the dead woman before him, “I’m s-sorry…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No apology he could muster would ever make up for this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This...was as if hell itself had manifested on Earth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was dead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t protect her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hadn’t been able to save her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma Perkins was dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And all he could do was weep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d failed her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma watched as Miss Holloway lurched forward, groaning under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut as if the wind had suddenly been knocked out of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” she asked, sitting up straighter in her seat, “Miss Holloway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman didn’t respond, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her teeth grit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Holloway?” John called from his place by the miniature control center they’d set up for the mission, “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, there was no response from the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked to John as she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Both John and Xander rose from their seats starting to move towards Miss Holloway before the woman held out her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” the woman’s voice was barely audible, “Don’t come any closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John and Xander looked at one another before backing away slowly and returning to their positions before Miss Holloway looked up, her gaze traveling to Paul in a way that sent a shiver up Emma’s spine in a way she didn’t appreciate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma followed her gaze to Paul and what she saw made her feel like her lungs were void of air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thick, inky black tears were rolling down his cheeks in torrents while his chest spasmed slightly. She could hear someone yelling something from the medical station and Phillipa and Kamaria ran over to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with him!?” she demanded, feeling fear creep into her heart again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t lose him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just...couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d already lost so much and taken life in the attempt to ensure her survival. She’d been battered and bruised so many times since this whole mess had begun, but she knew that losing Paul again...and in a way that would inevitably be irreversible would break her completely. Of course, she’d still have her baby, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to raise it without him...she didn’t want to do any of this without him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phillipa looked up at her with wide eyes, the look filling her with a sense of panic she’d not known since he’d been infected,  “We don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well...<em>fuck</em> this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t about to just sit around and do nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started to move to get off of the gurney, just trying to get to him before Miss Holloway shouted for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No, Emma,” she shouted, forcing Emma to a stop, even though every instinct she had was begging her to go to Paul, “It’s okay…Dr. Abadi, Dr. Kirk, you can back away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At those words, Phillipa and Kamaria looked at the woman with confusion, “But he’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Miss Holloway assured them, offering them a somewhat comforting smile before wincing and turning to Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “He’s ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma froze as the words seemed to resonate throughout the room, making a chill run up her spine in a way that she wasn’t sure she welcomed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” Emma whispered, “You’re sure…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded, “It’s time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost as if the words had prompted her to move, she nodded and sat back down on the gurney, getting comfortable, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t tear her eyes off of Paul and the inky black tears that were dripping down his face as his chest jerked up shakily. She leaned over and gently took his hand in her own, just trying to calm herself down and remind herself of what it was that she was about to do. As the black tears pouring from Paul’s eyes soaked into the pillow, and his chest spasmed slightly, she did everything in her power to keep herself from losing it. She’d held it together for this long, she’d just have to do it for a little while longer. She needed to keep herself together until Paul was safe and home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could hear John, Xander, and the doctors talking, running through the protocol that she’d heard them run through while preparing the others for the mission, but her eyes could only remain on Paul, silently promising herself that before John’s voice called out for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tore her gaze away from Paul to look at the General, standing straight and rigid as he looked at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she looked at him, he saluted her, “Bring them home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed hard, knowing that the mission that lay ahead was going to be anything but easy. Unfortunately, bringing two people back from dimensions of their own making, in which their worst nightmares were captured in twisted illusions was easier said than done, never mind that she was worried about the safety of her baby on top of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked back at Paul. She knew with every fiber of her being that she wanted to save him. She knew that she wanted him home and safe, but the last thing she wanted was to fuck it up like she did everything else in her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Holloway seemed to notice her fear, and she looked up at her, “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p><span>Emma inhaled and exhaled slowly. The truth of the matter was that she’d been ready for this mission for weeks. She’d done every ounce of preparation that was required of them for this mission. She’d looked into every possible outcome all the while monitoring the health and progression of all the other victims, worrying that each breath they took would be their last. </span><span><br/></span> <span>Still...they’d gotten everyone else.</span></p><p>
  <span>If they could do it, then so could she. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if she couldn’t...she had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at Miss Holloway, holding Paul’s hand tightly in her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Holloway nodded and closed her eyes, reaching one hand out in her direction, her turquoise-tipped fingers coiling and curling in intricate patterns as if she was weaving a web of her own. Bright energy flashed in Emma’s vision, and suddenly, she found herself being dragged down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Emma was falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Falling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The colors and sounds that surrounded Emma were overwhelming as she found herself surrounded in several bright shades of light and shadow. She could hear voices as everything passed her by, like dust caught in the wind. She couldn’t tell if she was the one that was moving or if the world around her, in its chameleon-like landscape was changing with her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shadows danced around her as the world took shape, but above all else, she could hear a scream. A scream of agony that seemed to carry through the air. Though it wasn’t loud, she could identify the voice and she could identify the pain. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was Paul.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The landscape around her shifted, and suddenly, images appeared before her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Holloway had never mentioned that something like this would happen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like tapestries woven out of pure light and color, she saw faces come into view, but not in the way that she imagined the real Nightmares would appear to her. Rather, these seemed to be as distant and disconnected as certain memories, as if little moments in time appeared around her in small blips of time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The first she could see flying past was herself, inside a place that looked like Beanies, a frightened expression on her face. With a small jerk of pain in her heart, she recognized Paul standing behind her, an equally terrified and confused expression on his face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re singing!” she heard her own voice shout in fear, “Why are they all singing?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We need to run, Emma!” she heard Paul’s wonderful voice...the voice she missed so much echo back, as their figures turned around, holding onto one another as they ran from whatever it was that they were looking at, “Don’t look back, just run!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The image flew past her, melding into the colors and light, disappearing just as quickly as it came, another image flashing before her eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The image was of her again, sprawled out on the ground, blood dripping from a superficial wound on her forehead. More concerning, however, was the fact that there was something that looked like rebar sticking through her thigh, blood dripping profusely from the wound. However, she was staring up at Paul again, a fond, albeit pained, look in her eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If we get through this,” she heard her own voice enter her ears again, “I would love to see a nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>movie with you...but in case we don’t...kiss me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay…” Paul’s voice said calmly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just as quickly as it had appeared, the image was gone, leaving her bewildered as the image continued to shift and change. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell was this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then there was another image, Paul standing beside her, smiling, dressed in his red Christmas sweater. She was before him, dressed in a draw-string green winter jacket with the large beanie covering her hair, an uneasy expression on her face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey,” he was saying to her, his voice soothing, “Everything’s going to be okay...okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” her image spoke, smiling softly, repeating the words she’d spoken to herself just mere moments before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma inhaled and exhaled as she watched that image fade away again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Somehow, hearing his voice speak those words made her more and more convinced of the fact and more determined to get him back. He was gone and she wanted him back. She wanted him home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even if things weren’t okay now, she would work her hardest to see them okay again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Images flashed past her in rapid succession, words she could have sworn she’d heard him say before, but in much different situations, echoing in her ears. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see the two of them, dressed in the same winter attire as before, clinging to one another for dear life as they stared into the distance, terror in their eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see herself tugging on his tie over the counter at Beanies to kiss him as he left, shitty black coffee in hand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see flashes of a life they’d once had in resets before the one where she’d lost him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She could see the fleeting moments of peace that they had before the apocalypse came and destroyed it all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But for the most part, what she could see was happiness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A happy life with Paul, brief as it was, was all she could ever ask for.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, the colors and sounds faded, and she found herself standing in an unfamiliar room. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It looked to be some sort of hotel suite from what she could see...a </span>
  </em>
  <span>very </span>
  <em>
    <span>trashed hotel suite. Judging from the way that a floor lamp was busted and tossed aside, there was something that looked like a knife mark in the wall, the furniture all tossed aside and messy, as if either a very horny couple had stumbled into it, or someone had gotten into a fight to the death. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Judging from the scent of blood that hung in the air like a crimson curtain, the latter was far more likely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She glanced down and held back a gasp as she suddenly realized that she was soaked in blood, large blooms of red caking the ratty old grey sweater she was wearing. Gingerly, she ran her hands down her stomach (which was strange to look at, as seeing it without the baby bump she’d been sporting over the course of a previous couple of weeks was something of a shock- she felt like she was missing something), and found several wounds of different sizes marring her body...the cuts deep, and very clearly the reason why her heart wasn’t necessarily beating anymore. She gasped as her fingers gently ran over the affected area, where the wounds didn’t hurt anymore, but it was clear that they’d punctured her organs quickly, and she was bleeding on the inside and out. However, the way that she’d died, she guessed it must have been awful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay, Paul…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She jumped at the sound of her own voice and turned to see something that made her lungs tighten painfully.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Standing in the doorway of what looked like the main bedroom of the suite, was...herself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only...something was very different. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For one thing, this version of her that she was looking at, was absolutely soaked in blood, her grey blouse and maroon skirt looking as if she’d been doused in red watercolor as she stared up at…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She held back a gasp as she recognized him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul?” she whispered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was him, shaking and covered in blood as he stared at the other version of herself, but not making direct eye contact with him. He was wearing one of his work shirts and a tie, his blazer abandoned on the tossed-over couch, but covered in blood. Tears were dripping down his face, and his breathing was shaky, but as he blinked, and looked down, it became more clear to Emma that something wasn’t right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe, baby,” the other Emma instructed him quietly and comfortingly, gently placing her hands on his upper arms, checking to see if that was okay with him before moving closer, “It’s okay...it’s over. She’s dead.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah...right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma exhaled slightly as she realized that rather than looking at the real her and Paul, she was looking at the doubles Miss Holloway had mentioned. The false versions of her and Paul who were hellbent on taking their lives for their own identities...and judging from the fact that Miss Holloway had stated that Paul was already dead, and the fact that Emma couldn’t feel her own pulse, they’d succeeded.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which meant they couldn’t see her. Since she was dead, she was technically a ghost...which meant the only person who </span>
  </em>
  <span>would </span>
  <em>
    <span>be able to see her, would be Paul...theoretically speaking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She swallowed, ignoring how dry her throat felt, and turned back to the couple as the other version of her started to lead her husband, who was shaken and staring blankly ahead to the bathroom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We need to get this cleaned up, Paul,” she was murmuring softly, “Why don’t you shower first...I’ll start on cleaning all of this up, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other Paul, whom Emma decided she immediately hated for two different reasons (The first of the two being the fact that he’d evidently killed her, and the second, more imperative one, being the fact that he’d killed Paul and taken his place, or at the very least convinced him of the fact), nodded slowly and walked into the bathroom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey…” the other version of herself whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes, “I...I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other Paul’s eyes softened and his voice was barely above a whisper, “I...I love you too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With that, the two of them simply nodded at one another, and the other Paul closed the bathroom door, no doubt going to clean the blood off of himself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As the other Emma set to work in fixing up the room, Emma decided she wasn’t about to pay her any mind, instead sauntering over to the bedroom on unsteady legs, taking measures to step over things, even though it was obvious that the false version of herself was unable to see her. It was strange, she didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>like she was walking on anything solid. In fact, she felt as if she were phasing through the air itself, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was finding Paul. Surely, he’d be nearby...right? She was fairly certain that Miss Holloway had mentioned that he’d be close by if she found their doubles.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The scent of blood grew as Emma got closer to the bedroom, moving through the banged-up doors to find a trashed bedroom, the headboard cracked and smaller pieces of furniture thrown about. She looked down and found at her feet, there was a bloody kitchen knife. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma was just about to look up from the knife, when she took notice of several small dark spots in the carpet beside it, leading into a trail that grew thicker and thicker until it was a full puddle at the foot of the bed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma’s eyes followed the trail of what she could only assume to be blood, until all of the sudden, she beheld something that stole any potential breath she might have had.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Honestly...she didn’t know what she expected, so this should have been something…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was her own body...not breathing or moving. In some ways, the body she was staring at appeared just as she was appearing now, with the same wounds and bloodstains as her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t that the sight of her own corpse frightened her...it just wasn’t something she was expecting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sound of a faint voice would have made her heart stop as she tore her eyes away from her own corpse trying to find the source. The truth of the matter was that hearing that voice again suddenly brought her to pause.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was his voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked up and had to hold back a gasp as she felt as if her organs were doing flip-flops inside of her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kneeling on the other side of the body that had once been hers, was Paul, his eyes were filled with a blanker look than the look on the other Paul as he stared down at the body before him, and his face was pale as tears fell from his eyes in a steady, unending stream. He was shaking as he stared at her body, his breathing ragged as he stared down at her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry…” he whispered again, “I’m so sorry…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul…” she breathed, unsure of what else to do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If her heart were able to beat in her strange ghost state, she was certain it would have been pounding out of her chest at the sight of him. She couldn’t find any words at the moment. No words she could find could subscribe to the torrent of emotions she was feeling at the mere sight of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh God...what had they done to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The longer she stared at him, unable to form words, the more she realized that he, like her, was covered in bloodstains. Across the white shirt that was underneath his brown blazer, there were several large, erratic blooms of blood, as if he’d been stabbed repeatedly and without mercy. The sight of it was enough to make her lungs feel tight and as if she should start crying....but she wouldn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul didn’t seem to notice her, simply staring down at the corpse before him with wide eyes, tears pouring from them without abandon, shaking and breathing hoarsely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, Emma wanted to just run to him and hug him...it seemed sort of underwhelming to want that from a reunion, but after being alone for so long she just wanted to hold him. She just wanted to be reminded of how it felt to love and be loved by him. But...she also didn’t want to overwhelm him, and judging from the fact that he was staring at her corpse, the idea of running to him and hugging him, especially when he was staring at her dead body didn’t seem like such a good idea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul…?” she whispered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no response from him again, as he just continued to stare aimlessly, his words repeated and silent as if he was holding onto them like a mantra.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry,” he choked out again, “I’m so sorry...Emma...I couldn’t-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His words were broken off by small, hoarse sobs. Almost as if he couldn’t hear her voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul,” she repeated, a little louder, “Paul…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes widened and he released a shuddery breath before slowly looking up at her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She felt a sob build up in her throat as she looked at those beautiful blue eyes, filled with tears and puffy. She’d not seen his eyes in what felt like lifetimes. The eyes she hoped their child would have. The eyes that could make her feel as if everything was going to be alright, even as the world was caving in around them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He flinched as he made eye contact with her, and looked as if he wanted to look away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emma…” he breathed, his voice growing strained and smaller than before, he seemed frozen for a moment, just staring at her as tears dripped down his cheeks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She just stared at his tearful form, his whole body and bloodstained suit shaking as he took her in, more tears filling his eyes as he looked away from her, guilt filling his eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After a few moments of just staring at one another in stunned silence, his breathing began to pick up speed, growing even more hoarse than before. He scrambled backward in a panic, just staring at her like he didn’t know what else to do, before stopping. He just stared at her, tears filling his eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She felt tears sting her own eyes as she stared at him, all words running dry as she took him in. God, after weeks of just watching him remain frozen and still like a corpse, just seeing </span>
  </em>
  <span>moving</span>
  <em>
    <span> was enough to make her want to cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul…” she whispered again, starting to internally berate herself for only saying his name and not something else that would probably help the mission go along faster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Emma…” he murmured through his hoarse panting, “I’m sorry...I’m s-so sorry...I-I didn’t…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He broke down into tears again as he buried his face in his hands, and Emma slowly started to move towards him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I couldn’t- I tried…” he broke down, “I’m s-sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, Paul…” she whispered, as she moved closer, “It’s okay...It’s okay…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s n-not…” he murmured mournfully, shaking his head and drawing his knees close to himself, “It’s not...not okay. I should have-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and wiped at his eyes shaking his head.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe, Paul,” she soothed, trying not to cry with him as she slowly moved closer and closer to him, “Just breathe…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked back up at her, a large amount of guilt in his eyes, “Oh...shit...you probably don’t know…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She raised an eyebrow, “Know what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The man...who killed….” his voice hitched on his words but he swallowed,  “Shit...I mean, he’s...not me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m</span>
  <em>
    <span> me...I think. He’s a fake...like me, but not...just like that other Emma.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma nodded slowly, realizing that he’d likely thought she didn’t know about the clones, “I know, Paul…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And...he...he...um...killed me…” Paul went on, rambling through the truth behind the doubles, “And he married the other Emma...and now…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His voice hitched in another sob, and he looked down miserably, “I-Just...wait…” he looked up at her with wide eyes, “You’re...you’re not freaked out...you’re not…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed and shook her head, fighting back tears, “No...I’m not.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“W-Why?” He murmured, tears filling his eyes again, his voice picking up speed as he continued to ramble, “H-How are you...I mean, you’re Emma...so that makes sense...but why are you not afraid? We’re both trapped alone in this plane of existence because we have some fucked up-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul,” she sighed, tears dripping from her eyes, “Please...breathe…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He froze as a few tears slipped down his cheeks, as he took in the sight of her. She wiped her eyes, trying so hard to just keep it together for this mission, just until she could remind him of what was real. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh...Emma,” he whispered, a guilty expression on his face. He shook his head,  “I’m so sorry...I’m just rambling and...And I didn’t even ask you if you’re okay...I mean, you don’t even know me...you probably don’t even trust me after what </span>
  </em>
  <span>he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did...and I wouldn’t blame you...but-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head, a sob working its way up her throat, but instead, it came out as a laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was so Paul Matthews.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To worry about inconveniencing another person only to be sent into another rant altogether. Of course, she didn’t miss that in circumstances where he was hurting, like now, but God, it made her remember all of the endearing things she knew him to possess. All of the small things about him that made her love him even more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She needed to remind him of what was real.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But first...there was something she needed to do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I…” she whispered, looking up at him, “Can I hug you…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes widening, “Y-you...want to hug me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” she nodded, “Is that okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked down at his hands for a moment, “B-But...you hardly know me! I mean, technically, we just met…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled tearfully and shook her head, stifling whatever disappointment “I know you more than you think...but if you don’t want to, that’s okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No!” Paul said a little quickly before catching himself and looking down, “I mean...I’ve...um…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His next words broke her heart and made her wish she didn’t have the sense to ease into telling him that the world around him wasn’t real.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d love to…” he whispered, “I’ve...um...I’ve just been alone for so long…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her heart could have shattered at hearing that. It was almost as if his Nightmare had forced him into a world where he didn’t exist again, only to be completely alone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here, there was no John or Ethan to acknowledge that he’d once existed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was nobody to realize that there had been a difference between him and the man who’d killed him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There were no anomalies to indicate that he was trapped in another dimension.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here...it was just him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was alone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d been alone for so long, trapped in his own mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forced to watch his worst nightmare become a reality before him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She cut him off as she scooted forward hastily and threw her arms around him, just wanting to hold him for the first time in what felt like it was too long. She pulled herself closer into him, even as he reacted with some slight shock, unable to keep herself from holding back as she held onto him for dear life. Nothing else mattered at that moment as she was suddenly refamiliarized with the feeling of holding him in her arms. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reluctantly, and shakily, his hands wrapped around her back, holding her gently, as if he didn’t know what to do in this situation. As if the mere feeling of holding a person was so foreign to him he didn’t know what to do. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma felt more tears come to her eyes as she clutched him closer allowing the sobs and fear that had built in her chest since she’d lost him come crashing down upon her in wave after wave. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was holding him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For the first time in forever, she was hugging the man she loved more than anything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t understand why the notion of such a thing would make her feel as she could cry about everything in the world, but as she held him, as she refamiliarized herself with the feeling of loving him, she felt as if everything was so...</span>
  </em>
  <span>right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Even as they remained in the middle of a nightmare that had kept him trapped for so long, she felt as if she was safe. As if the world hadn’t become even more fucked up than before. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She buried her face in his shoulder as she held him closer, with him reciprocating as if he were just trying to understand that he was actually hugging someone. As if he’d forgotten what it had felt like to be held. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I missed you,” she whispered, unable to stop the words before she said them, just holding him closer as she cried. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He froze and pulled away slightly, looking at her with a tearful, confused expression, “M-Missed me?” he looked like the idea of someone missing him was foreign to him, as if he didn’t know how many people were waiting for him in the waking world. As if he didn’t know how loved he was by their family. By the people who loved them and treated them like they had an actual family, “B-But...you d-don’t even...kn-know me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma chuckled tearfully and shook her head, looking back up at him, trying not to make him uncomfortable, so she backed away just a little bit, his hand in hers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Well...you see. That’s where you’re wrong,” she sniffed, smiling up at him, “I told you this once, and I still mean it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul’s eyes were filled with deep confusion as he looked at her, still crying, but most of the anxiety and anguish were replaced by questions she hoped she could find a way to answer. She took a deep breath and looked up at him, speaking clearly, her voice unwavering. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d know you anywhere.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He froze, his eyes widening as he stared at her. For a moment, she thought she might have said something wrong, before the look in his eyes changed. Instead of fear and confusion, something like a melancholy sense of recognition and hope washed over him, looking as if shock worked its way into his gaze.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His mouth hung agape as he stared at her, tears filling his eyes once more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s…” he breathed, making another sob catch in his throat, “It’s you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled and nodded slowly as more tears fell down his eyes, “It’s me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A single tear rolled down his cheek as a small, disbelieving smile teased at his lips as he stared at her, “Emma…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled, caught in a sob, “Paul.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They stared at each other for a few more seconds before he unleashed a shuddering laugh that sounded more like a sob, more tears pouring from his eyes, “Oh...Oh my God.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He pulled her forward, and into his arms, holding her tight and burying his face in her neck, crying harder than before, holding her both gently and firmly, as if he didn’t want to let go of her for anything. His hand cradled her head while he held her close, just hugging her tightly and securely. She started to cry harder as one of her hands went to his hair, and her other arm just held him closer to her, the both of them sobbing as they hugged each other tighter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He pulled back slightly so he could cup her face gently, resting his forehead gently against her own.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“God...Paul,” she whispered, meeting his eyes and laughing tearfully, “I missed you so much.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I...I don’t…” he whispered, his eyes wide and darting around, “What happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She exhaled shakily as he went on, his hands resting on his shoulders as he looked around the hotel room, pointedly avoiding the body behind them, “I-I remember being with you...in our apartment…” tears filled his eyes, “I remember...trying to listen for you...but...I couldn’t-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He gasped suddenly and looked down at her stomach, his fingers gently going down to where the baby bump was absent, and several stab marks took its place. Tears filled his eyes as he gingerly drew his hand back from the blood on her sweater, looking up at her with immense concern, panic in his eyes, “The baby! Is the baby okay?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t get the chance to respond as his breathing started to grow in pace. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He started to hyperventilate, “I-I don’t know what’s happening! I-I c-couldn’t hear you...and I woke up here...and-” his eyes fell to the body behind her, the blood still flowing and staining the carpet. He looked like he was about to be sick as his eyes widened, his breath picking up speed again as he went pale. He wouldn’t stop shaking and the tears seemed to flow in an endless cycle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She cupped his face gently, “Paul...baby, don’t look at her. I’m here...it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He blinked and looked at her, not entirely meeting her eyes as he tried to slow his breathing, “I...I don’t know where we are...I don’t know-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, hey,” she tried to soothe him, resting her forehead against his, “It’s okay...I need you to breathe with me, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She followed the four-seven-eight pattern to the best of her ability, trying to guide him through it as best as she could, despite her own shaky breathing. If they were going to succeed in this mission, they’d both need to calm down. She couldn’t stop shaking as she held him close, trying her hardest not to lose her mind as she held onto him tighter. After a while, his breathing calmed down and he cupped her face again. He was still crying, but he just stared at her, “What...What happened? Where are we?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma inhaled and exhaled sharply, preparing to drop the bomb of the false reality on him. It was obvious he knew that this wasn’t real, but the actual concept of </span>
  </em>
  <span>where </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly they were was something of a puzzle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do...do you remember Hidgens telling us about a forest? A nightmare forest dimension?” she asked, trying to ease into the conversation as easily as she could, “Nightmare Time?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, slowly, as if the dots were connecting. His eyes widened as the lightbulb seemed to flicker on, “You mean…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“When Ted attacked you in February,” she nodded, “He attacked you with some kind of venom that Webby made...it trapped you in your own Nightmare Time…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He unleashed a shuddering breath, “And...that’s what this is?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mm-hmm,” she nodded, “We didn’t know how to get you out until a few weeks ago…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked down, looking like he was afraid to ask the question that was on his mind, “H-How long have we been here?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma sighed, fear gripping at her heart, “I’ve only been here for a few moments. How...how long do you think you’ve been here?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul looked down at her stomach as if he was afraid of the answer. Though there was relief in his eyes at the idea that she’d only been here a few moments, the slight amount of unease in them put her on edge. The thought just occurred to Emma at that moment that he might have thought that missed the birth of their child.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Over a year,” he whispered, his voice filled with a sense of harrowing disdain, “I...I died a year and a month ago...here, anyway.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit…” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears once more at the notion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Over a year.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For him, he’d been living in his worst nightmare for over a year.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, she couldn’t imagine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“B-But…” he whispered, “If none of it was real...th-then how long has it really been?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><em><span>She inhaled and exhaled sharply, “Five weeks.”</span></em><em><span><br/></span></em> <em><span>He exhaled sharply, his eyes widening again, “Five weeks?”</span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded slowly, squeezing his hand as he looked around. Once again, his eyes went to her stomach, “A-and...the-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The baby’s okay, Paul,” she affirmed, squeezing his hand, “Not due for another eighteen weeks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He exhaled shakily again, shaking his head, “Five weeks…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She nodded, “We met a witch...kinda like Hannah...who could help us. She sent me here to get to you...to remind you of what’s real and get you home.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed as he took her in, his eyes processing all of the new information. He looked around the room, his eyes still somewhat wide, as if the reality of it all was crashing down around him before he looked at her again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head, “You shouldn’t be here…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You shouldn’t either,” she whispered, cupping his face, “Nobody should. But I was the only one who could reach you...which is why we had to wait until after…” she sighed as she became aware once more of her own body laying behind her in a bloody pool, “What matters is that I’m here now and I’m gonna get you home.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hummed and nodded before his eyes widened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What about the others?” he asked suddenly, “The other people Ted attacked...did they get trapped here-?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His voice trailed off as she nodded, sad to give him the news, “But they’ve already been rescued. We went in a specific order,” she explained, “The only two left are you and Ted...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wasn’t thrilled to tell him the next part, “Which...is why we need to stick around.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and looked down, “Emma…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He doesn’t have anyone to get him, but your Nightmare and his intersect at several points,” she explained looking down, “And...as shitty a person as he is, nobody deserves to die here...so while I’m not thrilled about it...we can’t leave him here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked up at him and he nodded slowly as if accepting the truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They both knew that they had every reason in the world to leave Ted here...but they couldn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But…” she murmured, bringing a hand up to cup his face, her thumbs gently wiping his tears away, “Let’s not think about that now...I have you back…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her words broke off into another stifled cry as tears stung her eyes, the waves of emotion crashing over her once again. The reminder that he was standing before her making her feel so many things at once. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She cracked an eye open to look at him, to find him smiling sadly at her. Without words, he pulled her to him again and wrapped his arms around her again, enveloping her in a warmth that the cold atmosphere of this nightmare seemed to lack. He buried his face in her hair as she held him closer, crying into his shoulder and holding on tightly, unwilling to let go. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She couldn’t believe it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was right here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d found him...just as she’d always promised she would.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She could hear the doubles behind them continuing the cleanup process as Paul got out of the shower, the other Emma having changed into clean clothes from what she presumed was her duffel bag, but Emma couldn’t bring herself to care. She was holding Paul in her arms again, and he knew who she was. He knew that the world around him wasn’t real...and he knew that he had people he was going to come home to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But still, to be alone in a dimension where his worst nightmare was reality...for over a year…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She pulled back, one of her hands running over the bloodstains on his shirt, where the other Paul had stabbed in repeatedly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurt to know that he’d felt the pain of death here. It hurt to know that he’d wandered in some strange form of isolation for so long.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She glanced at her own shirt, where several stab wounds were trapped in the eternal visage of bleeding, and flinched.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well…” she breathed, “We certainly got fucked-up...didn’t we?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled lightly and pulled her to him again, “I missed you, Em.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She settled her head against his chest, the bloodstains not staining her in any way as she just held on tightly to him, before her hand went up to cup his jaw, the words she’d wanted to say for so long finally finding their way to her lips.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She met his eyes...those gorgeous eyes that her life had been miserably void of over the course of the previous weeks that had felt like an eternity. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two of them were still crying as they clung to each other, the two of them desperate to never let go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you, Paul,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she held him closer, “S-So much.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He unleashed another shuddering breath before looking down at her, a smile crossing his face through the tears. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead of saying something, he used both of his hands to cup her face and before she could think, his lips met hers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tightly as her heart sang, filled with warmth and joy that she’d not realized just </span>
  </em>
  <span>how </span>
  <em>
    <span>much she’d missed. Her hands knit into his hair, reveling in how soft it was as she kissed him gently. It wasn’t overly passionate, or lustful, but was soft and gentle, like seeing the silhouette of one’s home in the distance as one approached it after a long journey. Like the first few beams of sunlight in a beautiful morning, slowly bringing back the warmth that was absent from the world for so long.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When they broke away, she just wrapped her arms around him again and pulled close to him, just holding him and letting herself be held by him as their doubles continued with their business of covering up a murder. Honestly, Paul and Emma couldn’t give two shits about what they were doing...because right now they had each other, and that was all that mattered until they could reach Ted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul exhaled shakily, sounding like he might start crying again as he held her close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, making Emma feel as if, even in the middle of an apocalypse outside of this nightmare, everything was going to be okay. As if everything in the world had been put on hold. She just clung to him, relishing in the fact that even though they were in an illusion, he was still there. He was holding her tightly and safely and securely. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Even though they were ghosts in this dimension, he was alive to her and alive to reality, and that was all she could ask for. He knew who he was and he knew who she was. He remembered the future they had, the life they’d brought into the world, and the family they had waiting for them...and that assurance gave her the peace of mind she wished she’d had weeks ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He kissed her head again, tightening his grip on her as he cried lightly, burying his face in her neck, his hands fiddling with the end of her braid before he whispered words that made her feel like she could start crying all over again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you too, Em.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed shakily and just tightened her grip on him, both of them crying into the other’s neck, clinging to one another as if they were the only floating thing in the middle of a dark and stormy ocean.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if the other was the faith that kept them fighting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if the other was the lighthouse in the distance, beckoning them home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if they were safe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if they were home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And they were...Emma knew. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because home was with him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And they’d do anything to protect it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>---</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed in relief as she felt small waves of comfort and joy emit from the bond shared between Paul and Emma, telling her that the two had found one another, and serving as a balm in comparison to the dull pain at the back of her head that had been there since Jane had tried to claim Becky. Keeping her hold on the woman had been difficult, and had she not been able to maintain it, she would have lost everyone...and the mission would have been a failure. Still, she’d managed to hold on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Holloway cracked an eye open and looked at the unconscious Paul and Emma, a nurse standing by to monitor the fetal heart rate of their baby as one of Emma’s hand’s stretched out to still hold Paul’s, even though they were both still as death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She caught her breath as she turned to look at the General and Xander, who were waiting with bated breath for her report, waiting for any response or truth she could have provided to allow them the at the very least relax in terms of whether or not Emma had made it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma’s got Paul,” she panted out, eliciting a collective sigh of relief from the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She got him?” Xander asked, his eyes wide as he rose from his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, “She got him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nodded, a soft look of hope that she knew he wouldn’t dare show completely crossing his face, “Good...then we’ve only got Spankoffski left to retrieve before they get to the back door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, “Let’s hope nothing goes wrong before then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if to punctuate the statement, a small throb of pain at the back of her head made itself known, making her grit her teeth and hiss in pain. She did her best to keep a hold of herself as she focused mostly on keeping Paul and Emma aloft in the Nightmare wherever they were. Until they got to the daydream, they’d have to depend on her to keep them from getting lost in it, and if anything went wrong before they could make contact with Spankoffski, she could easily lose her hold on all of them, and that was something she couldn’t risk. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she had to keep going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to ensure that they stayed alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to ensure that they all kept at it and made it out safely.</span>
</p><p><span>Hannah had trusted her to do as much. </span><span><br/></span> <span>She just needed to hold on a little longer. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>You may try, Witch. </em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...keep in mind this was the first half of what was supposed to be part three so, it's not over yet...</p><p>But...Paul and Emma.... :)</p><p>That is all. </p><p>Thank you.</p><p>(Also, what is up with Holloway?)</p><p>Please leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think!! I finally wrote a chapter that wasn't over 15K for this arc (I'm very proud of myself for this)!! Thank you for listening to me talk about metaphors and rant about Paulkins!!!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!! I know this update took a while, but I had a lot of exams and...life...so there was that 😂 I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope you have a wonderful week!!!</p><p>My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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